A little more than a year ago, I heard the words that changed my life completely. In all honesty, I don’t precisely remember what those words actually were. I do recall wondering how a very simple sentence could feel so much like a physical blow. I was surely mortally wounded, for how do you survive when your heart has been brutally ripped from your chest?
Now, 374 days later, I’m pleased that a shattered heart didn’t actually kill me. It in fact remade me, restored me, allowed me to fly free. It reminded me to see myself. It wasn’t pleasant, it wasn’t by choice, it left seriously ugly scars, but hindsight wields the light of clarity. I’m confident that the emotional revolution was essential and the present journey righteous, albeit sometimes frightening and uncertain.
September 21st should have been my wedding anniversary. Instead it was the one year marker of the Big Break Up. (Yes, in case you’re just joining this drama, The Douche left me on our anniversary. Classy.)
It seemed prudent not to stay home by myself, brooding over past. Instead I took a little weekend road trip to visit some amazing friends. And when I say amazing friends, I really mean people who have been unconditionally supportive. People who I rarely get to see, but still knew exactly what I needed. People who gave me staggering gifts of self, time, talent, and profound spiritual connection.
I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again – it is not trials or travails, heartbreak or pain that brings me to my knees… it is the unsolicited, unexpected, selfless kindness and unreserved expressions of love that brings me to tears.
Amazing friends. Oh, and really good sushi.