Twisted Knife

Our true nature comes out when we having nothing left to offer. Who will I be when things get really, really hard? And then, get even harder and more confusing. Right when I think I might be turning a corner, something else slaps me down. Today I lost my job.  

Quick backstory: I'm the Creative Director of two national yoga magazines. I work incredibly hard and passionately. As I've said time and time again, it is my dream job. After you passed away, I requested three months off and was given the green light with full support. Apparently, I was replaced two months ago and not told until today, when I let my job know I was ready to return after the three months, as agreed upon. Rant, over.

Unfortunately, we can't always rely on other people being honorable. We live in a dog eat dog world. Those who succeed often do so by knocking people down along the way. And that's OK. Such is life. It may not be the method I would choose, but it's none of my business. I am not in control of other people's empires. I only can admire what they created, offer my appreciation, and help when it's accepted. When it's no longer wanted, I move on. I will not fight. If I want to be in control of my own empire, then I will have to build one myself.

I imagine myself like an onion. Layer after layer has been peeled away. Soul mate, best friend, lover, biggest fan: gone. Big, protective layers are peeled away, revealing raw flesh. Plans and security for the future: gone. More layers peeled away. Job: gone. Another layer peeled, leaving the core exposed. My eyes are teary as the delicate center of the root is left vulnerable. When that which makes me who I have become is taken away, what remains? When I dive in head first, give my everything, open my heart – and am robbed – how do I react?

As we arrive into this life we are born pure. Then, we start to pile layers on that shape who we become. But when those layers are ripped off, even at our most shattered, our pureness remains. We may really have to dig for it, beneath dirt and grime, anger and fear, disrepute and sorrow – I have faith that our virtuosity endures. So here I lay, shattered, broken, crying – yet somewhere, beautiful and pure.

The hardest part for me today, was that I needed you. You were the one who would know exactly what to say to make me feel better. You would give me the best, longest hug. You would kiss my forehead in a way that breathed peace into my chest. You would tell me you were sorry that this happened. You would take my side and talk a bit of shit. Then, you would explore the other side, being reasonable and fair. Together, we would discover that there is no right or wrong, there is simply what is and what is not. You would say something that gave me hope for the future. Then, you would hug me again - an even better hug than the first one. You would kiss my lips and love my body tenderly. You would hold me while I cried, not saying a single thing for a very long time except "It will be OK. I love you." As the knife that resides in my chest was twisted in deeper today, I really needed you. But you were not there. There was no you. There was no bear. There was no fox. There were no blinking lights. There were no visitors from the other side. There were no dreams. There was no hug. There was just me. I had to look at myself – raw, confused, hurt – and choose to be righteous, to be healthy, and to have faith.

You once told me about scream therapy. You had an ex-girlfriend who made you incredibly angry. You told me when she really pissed you off, you would get in your car and turn on Pantera or Marilyn Manson and scream at the top of your lungs. You would scream and scream and scream. When you told me this, I think my eyes were as big as my face. I never once saw you angry, so the whole scenario was beyond me. I couldn't believe someone made you angry enough that you would even want to raise your voice. You were always so gentle. But, we all go through shit and at the time, it had helped you.

So today, when confronted with what could be anger I decided to give scream therapy a try. As I drove home from yoga and up the long hill to our house, I gripped the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white. I opened my mouth to scream... but nothing came out. I tried again. I gripped. I opened my mouth to scream. All that came out was a choked sob. And then another sob. And another. I pulled over because my eyes needed windshield wipers and they don't make those yet. I crumpled my head into my hands as I gasped sadness to the universe, 'Well I'm down, so you may as well just keep kicking me.' In that moment, I remembered times when I used to tell you, "I don't get angry, I just get sad."

The universe has me on my knees. She's stripped me of some of the most important things to me. Love. Security. Career. But she hasn't taken everything. In my practice tonight, I tapped into my strength. She can take my love, she can take my security, but for now, I still have my body. So I danced with my body on my mat. I practiced grace as I played, breathed, loved, and balanced. Also today, I reached out to my loved ones. She can take you, she can take my job, but I still have support. And friends helped to soothe my weariness. And now, I sit here and I write. She can take my best friend, she can take my stability, but she can't take my words. She can't take my freedom. So I kneel. I am naked, I am raw, and I am crying. But I am still here. And, dammit, I will not loose faith. And as my true nature is forced to be revealed, I will discover my identity.