“We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and a presumption that once our eyes watered.” - Tom Stoppard
I get it now. Finally, this past year makes sense.
I lost so much more than I could have possibly imagined - love, pride, confidence, security, direction, friendship. It felt like the ground buckled under me and every time I tried to stand up again, my world shook violently; I have been terrified I would never find a foothold. But here it is.
The thing about loss is that when the dust settles and the fires burn out, there is just... space. Room to stop, get my bearings and see far into the distance. Room to stretch my arms and legs to the limit and reach toward something. Room to turn around and walk away. Room to just be.
The void, the solitude - they're really possibility. Without walls or strings or weights, I am free to rediscover myself, create a new life, fill up this newfound space with anything I choose. Or preserve it, leave it blissfully still and quiet for as long as I like... It's mine.
So this is the lesson: I was broken down so I could rebuild myself, discard the fragments of old lives and loves and bind myself together lighter and braver than before. I lost my way so I could discover I was on the wrong path. My heart was broken again and again so I could learn to mend it on my own.
And now, it starts.
No comments:
Post a Comment