death of the old narrative…

yesterday my parent’s thought their cat joey was dead or gone and mourned her in shock until the moment she sauntered out of the cabinet, hours later, as if nothing ever happened. there are so many metaphors to this experience. i thought my feelings for him had passed but they haven’t (can’t control the feelings). i have to be strong because i only will open my heart to the man who wants my heart and my true self. i am an emotionally available woman in search of an emotionally available man. how to live in grey areas? you must hold dual perspectives. you must also ditch the narrative that something is wrong. you must allow yourself to be messy and vulnerable. being strong means being tender. exploring the undefined because we share some mutual love, while at the same time, not allowing myself to create a false story. this is not wrong or right, good or bad. it is grey. the relationship i know i want is one in which two hearts find home in one another, are best friends, feel mutual attraction, share mutual values, where we both really like each other, and we are rooted in love. cement period. some things are certain. i am certain of what i want. i am uncertain how much i can dabble in what i do not want because of what feels good. i hold the dual perspectives of certainty and uncertainty, of light and dark, as i ditch the idea of wrong, careful to seek only availability. intimacy is scary and i welcome being scared with the man who wants to be scared with me. what hurts is not being wanted or chosen. what is challenging is to refrain from is, turning not being chosen into an “i am not good enough story”. what feels great is the mutual connecting. love is grey. i am living so many plan B’s right now. the grade A dreams are not manifesting but i keep discovering that plan B leads to a new version of plan A…as if life is telling me, “i know more about what you need than you do”.  i am learning to feel beauty in what manifests. even death, illness, loss, and confusion. the beauty of pain is in the rawness and vulnerability that awakens. i give but i contain. i am open and closed. i am making a pearl inside. earlier this week, shame for being me was sizzling through my nervous system. fear to be seen in the eyes of others was ablaze. embarrassment in every direction. kool-aid man busted through my wall and made me aware that i was being hard on myself. i realized it and then saw just how mean i was being to myself on many levels. the way i had been narrating my self was crappy. mean girl crappy. i stopped right away, allowing the mean narrative to slither back into the earth. i allowed shame to sizzle through my body, without giving it words or meaning, honoring the feeling. within hours, the shame dissipated, for i had discharged the energy of it by not giving it a story to cling to. there is another story that wants to emerge from deep inside. this story cannot come out if the shame story is in the way. i am devoting myself to this deeper story. basically, i am making room for new stories. new myth. the external world mirrors my internal world by being tenuous and strange, uncertain and surprising. no more heavily shellacked perceptions, except for the perception that love is all.

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