healing

Listening to kd lang. Something really haunting about her voice. Draws me deeper into myself. To the confusion and sadness I can't express. Like a raincloud that won't burst. A wound that smarts.  
I feel strength I have never felt before. Change is before me. The sun is rising. My future is bright as the sun as it shines. And I am excited for what tomorrow might bring. Exhilarated - truly!
But try as I might, there is a piece of not being good enough. Fortified by the misappropriated curse of someone whom I cared for who chewed up my essence and spit it out. And with so much shame in that hollow and sick heart, cannot face me with truth. With honestly only he knows. I only get to view the cowardice. And it makes me sick. It makes me think twice about my ability to have read what was before me.
I flinch when I think of how I have allowed this to affect me. We spoke of grief at Circle and God knows I have studied it endlessly. I deal with my grief. It is experiential - coming in huge breaks and finally now in softer waves. My grief is absolutely real. I feel it. I allow it in. And after it brings me to my knees, it moves slowly through my body. It whispers into my ear. It is the air I breathe. It makes the hair on my skin rise. How long can it feel like torture? I suppose until my dignity reenters. And it has. And it feels good to reclaim myself. But the grief still remains of words not said. Of truth not shared. Of pain of the rejection I never deserved.
The lesson in it all, as I shared at Circle, is my ability to truly experience every feeling. I love very deeply. And in that, I grieve very deeply. Everything I experience and express is my truth and my emotions are raw and honest. So my experience was absolutely real in every way. My only assumption is that what was returned was an untruth. An illusion. Something I was meant to believe so that I would act based on believing something so much more than what was really there. 
So I was duped. I was used. And that person gets to live with themselves for the inauthentic person they truly are. Their loss. The punishment for it is that they get to continue living their miserable lie of a life. Unhappy. Unloved for their authenticity. That kind of life is nothing I would ever chose to live. And isn't that the saddest ending for a story you've ever heard?  
The lesson? Not sure there is one. Because I trusted and believed. I took the story that was told at it's face value. I trusted and opened my soul. So I was real. I was genuine and I gave freely with only goodness and hope in my heart. And I would do it again. Perhaps not so easily. But I am here to live. To really live. And in living, you will get hurt. The hurt helps you grow and appreciate the joy that will once again surround you.
And I am once again surrounded by great joy. Now, if I could just see myself as absolutely good enough. Then I think I will have finally learned my lesson in all of this.