It’s summertime in Ontario, the sun is shining, the weather is scorchio, and the outdoor swimming pools are open as part of the gradual re-opening of our public spaces. I’m surrounded by breathtakingly beautiful garden flowers and my vegetables are starting to reveal themselves to me in the raised beds I haphazardly seeded, planted, and cultivated many weeks ago. We are also now able to see more people than previously allowed, and we have “pods” and “bubbles” of chosen family that we can hug and get close to.
With all this progress, it’s been a difficult few months for me as I’ve predictably let myself feel the pain of others I care deeply about. It is at once a fatal flaw and something I’ve learned to treasure, because to deny or lose my compassion would surely be the death of my soul. However, I’ve needed to find a way to manage my feelings more constructively for a long time now. In the middle of this pandemic, which I really think has exaggerated our responses to everything thrown at us, I believe I am close to figuring out how my brain and heart work together, which may be the key to avoiding the emotional meltdowns that have plagued me in the past.
It has always been difficult for me to understand and accept that for some, the healing road is inside their heads, and that they need complete withdrawal to figure things out. I am prone to endless overthinking, and detours to dark thoughts and the worst possible scenarios when I am troubled for myself or others, but there is never a doubt that I need the proximity of my closest friends as company to feel better: their laughter, their banter, and their occasional counsel and advice for all the mental torture I put myself through as an empath is how I eventually regain my balance and climb out of my sadness. As a result of my extroverted nature’s methods, the hardest thing for me to accept from those I care about is their shutting me out for their own self-preservation. It is, however, one of the most important things I am making the effort to understand and support because I value all my closest friendships and need to respect that for some, their paths to self-healing are unique and essential for recovery. In my own struggle to let go and grant my friends the space and time they need, I think 2020 is going to finally teach me to let go of many things that have weighed me down throughout my life. With some luck and hope, there will be a beautiful win-win at the end of this transitional chapter.
Here are my take-away lessons:
1. While I am happy to allow others the pleasure of helping me (as the hugely missed Neil Peart so eloquently put it), I need to accept that some of my closest and dearest do not feel the same need and are much stronger for going it alone, and this is absolutely fine.
2. The special friendships of those in my circle that I call my “anam cara” (soul friends) are for life, but there will be times when we may be apart because one of us needs the distance, and this too is absolutely fine. The pauses for renewal will only make the reunions sweeter for the longer passage of time between them.
3. I must trust that if I have treated my dearest friends to the best of my ability and have not caused them the pain they are experiencing, that they will seek me out again when they have dealt with their troubles. I must then have the patience to wait for them to return to the wider world, and greet them without judgement and with open arms when they emerge.
My inner witch has much wisdom to whisper in my ear when I listen to her above the noise, and she is telling me very strongly to honour and respect the wishes of those I love the most so that, in future days, we can resume our camaraderie and pick up where we left off. She leans in and reminds me that while I wait, I also need to work on keeping myself whole, and that any lingering thoughts must focus on the sweet memories and ties that bind us together: laughter, banter, chats, our mutual love of music, books, and good food, drink, and company. She has assured me that these sacred friendships are lifelong and always worth holding onto by letting go, and I believe her.
8 comments:
My life is so much the better with your presence. I consider you to be a great friend despite the probability that we may never meet. I will never, ever need distance. However, if you need it that is fine with me. <<>>
Aw, you’re so sweet. You’re a great friend too, southern Scotsman. Aren’t we meeting up at the US liberation party on November 3rd? �� I don’t need distance, way too social for that, but thank you. xx
You are truly blessed ... listening to our inner voice is key. Some of us are so caught up in the turmoil of what has become our 'new normal', we don't listen.
You’d think our inner voice is louder now, no, Rosemary? xx
Yes, it is. The trick is to listen, and to trust what you hear.
One of my own greatest lessons in life is to take actions that belong to others less personally.
I tend to soak up other's emotions and the result is they become, quite unnecessarily, mine. I am still learning to create the appropriate barriers to protect myself.
Everyone has their own story and we see only the very surface from our outside perspectives.
Thus, I understand completely, Anne-Marie xx
So difficult when you love people dearly and their current story is a sad one. I know you get this, my western witch sister. xx
A lovely reflective post, Anne-Marie, and one with which I can identify on both sides. I too take on my loved ones troubles. I wrap myself in them like a coat in winter, which is hard to take off. I do this especially with my daughters, who mostly manage to sort their own problems out, while I’m still wearing them. On the other hand, I’m one of those that retreats into a shell when the going gets tough, so I know that feeling. Letting go is liberating. You, I know, will always be there for your loved ones when they’re ready to share again. Xx
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