It was during my first trip to ‘the Kimberley’s’ that I fell in love with them. Dominating the rugged and dry landscape, the boab trees commanded my attention. There was something about their bulbous shape that just made me want to hug them. This I did, more then once and with their wide girth my hands never fully surrounded the trunk. Adding to my joy and never ending sense of wonder was the uniqueness of each boab, never did two ever look the same.
Whilst the boab trees scattered the land, it was an incredibly rare sight to see a boab flower. The pods that encase and protect the seed have a soft velvet cover. They hang delicately from the branches in stark contrast to the solidness and security that the round trunk provides. Whilst I had seen images of the flowers in books and read of their healing potential and indigenous connection it was not until my next trip a few years later that I would witness a boab flower in full bloom.
During this second trip, I was moving through an incredibly difficult period with my marriage ending only a few months prior. I headed to this region as I knew the land would be very healing. It was a true gift for me to witness a boab in full bloom, it felt like an offering from the Gods. I resonated with the flower and reflected upon her process of blooming. What an incredibly amount of tension and force would be required for her to break free from the protective shell, a shell that once protected and kept her safe yet now it was limiting. As a seed within the pod, she hung unwavering throughout the rains, scorching sun, humidity and winds. Clinging to her one substance, the tree. Yet she knew she was more then the seed. Patiently she waited until it was her time to push through the shell and break free. She was still part of the tree, yet she was expressing her uniqueness and shone for those with eyes to see.
The reflection given to me was clear. I too needed to break free from the shell, to become who I could be, to bloom beyond what I knew was possible. It would take incredible effort and force; tension would be present through the breaking down of old ways. Yet it was a process already underway and one that could not be stopped.
My love and connection with the boab tree went to a whole new level throughout that trip. She is a healer for me. Some pods had dropped to the ground and opened revealing the innerness. Soft and velvet the petals still wrapped upon themselves, frozen in time. Yet those that bloom are exquisite to behold, the large fragrant flower with its fleshy white to cream petals commands your attention. Its numerous stamens shoot upwards towards the sky.
It’s a powerful healer as a flower essence as it can assist in the breaking of strong, deeply ingrained negative family patterns. Resulting in deep personal transformation, it is a profound healer working initially on the spiritual level, and then working its way down through the emotional and mental bodies.
If you are finding it difficult to break free from limiting and/or repetitive patterns, behaviours and mental mindsets perhaps consider the boab essence?
The Doctrine of Signatures is interesting in so much that you will often seen groups or clusters of boab trees. Like a family quite often becoming enmeshed in one another, the boab essence addresses this restriction.
Personally the boab flower essence is the one constant on my bedside table. Its incredibly powerful and supportive through the personal transformation processes. Sometimes ‘the ties that bind’ also restrict and prevent your growth.
The boab provides the strength needed to release the old way and enable more of your true spirit self to anchor.
It was through reading Ian White’s ‘Bush Flower Healing’ that I became aware of the connection the Indigenous communities have with the boab. The traditional birthing practice in these local communities involved the use of the boab flowers. If they were in season, the woman would dig a hole and line it with boab flowers. The woman in labour would then squat over the hole and deliver the baby into the cradle of flowers. As the baby was birthed its first contact was with the boab flower, a cleansing of family patterns. Truly wonderful.
I do have a love affair/obsession with boab trees, even to this day 7 years on from my first encounter images of them adorn my study. I make no excuses for this strong connection with this tree that I feel.
A true gift that when prepared as an essence enables us to step fully into who we can become.
had been putting off writing for the day when I had ‘it’ all sorted, the day
when I would feel no angst, no fear, no worry or doubt. That magical day
when ‘it’, life was all okay, that I was okay and then I would be ready to
write, to share, to action the inner force to get it out on paper.
became aware of an interesting dynamic though, every time I started to feel
like I, it was all coming together something else would happen and it felt like
I was right back at the beginning, amongst the mess and insecurity of my
life. I realised that if I wait for that magical day, I may never write.
there is the first note to self, life is not about having it all sorted, life
can’t be planned, controlled and organised according to what we wish.
Happens. Whether we are consciously engaged in it or a passive
waiting is the action of the passive bystander. Waiting for that perfect
moment, waiting for the other to change, waiting for more, waiting for less,
waiting for what exactly? Conscious engagement is choosing to step up and
to be the active participant, choosing the way you want to engage, the way you
want to respond, the way you want to feel, to live. So here I am now,
finally getting it out. For I get it now that if I keep waiting for it
all to align nicely that which I seek and feel impressed to do may never be
given the air to breath, the water to grow and the sun to nourish.
The truest sense of safety come from a place so deep in you it is
out of sight. Yet it is filled with the richest of love, the purest of
insight and the warmest compassion. Once activated its brilliance
can flood light on even the darkest, coldest and scariest of places within you.
As a child my safe space was with my nan. Every school
holidays I longed to be with her, in her home surrounded by her love and embraced
by her presence. It was here where I felt accepted for who I
was. There was no fear of reprimand, abuse or isolation. Her house was
tiny, run down and in need of restoration. Did I care? No. Did I
see this? No. That tiny single fronted weatherboard house in Richmond was
a beacon of love. A refuge for a child who craved acceptance and a space
to be who she was.
As I grew this home continued to be a place of nurturance.
Eventually spreading its love to my children who quickly realised the depth of
love their great nan radiated and held for them too. Looking back love
was the only thing she had to give. She wasn’t a financially abundant
woman. Born during the Depression she grew up in an inner city suburb of
Melbourne which was heavily hit throughout this period of time. Times
were tough. She married young, supported a husband and raised 2 young
sons, lived through World War 2 and once her sons were married looked
after their children (me being one of them) through their formative
years. Family was her life, her centre and everything gravitated around
It was a natural evolution for me to see family in this way
too. A product of my environment. “Blood is thicker than
water” I would hear many a time. Referring to the importance of family
and blood ties. This conditioning of your biological family being
the single and prime point of focus and safety would prove to provide me
with a constant source of reflection and reviewing opportunities as I moved
through extreme periods of loss and grief. I still come up against an
internal conflict in many moments of what is my primal importance? Where
does my biological fit in the scheme of my existence, where do I as spirit fit
in this mould? What is my centre and what do I orbit around?
I sense it is a natural necessity that a child relates with their
family as their centre and primal provider of safety. As an infant
and then a young child we have no other family as a reference point. We
experience what we have and take it as the way. We realise quickly what
we need to do to be loved, to receive care (in whatever form we can) and to
So my family, albeit not perfect was my centre. I gravitated
around my family, with my nan at the core.
As we begin to gravitate around someone else we move away from our own centre. Our reference point is no longer authentic. We can lose our ability to know who we are and make our own choices. in the incessant need to orbit around another we can unconsciously seek to be like them, live like them and perhaps become them.
In my craving for the sense of safety, security and love my nan
provided I began to mould myself. I looked to her. Like a sponge
soaking up water, I began to soak up ‘her’. I took on her perspectives,
her stories, her parameters, her way and in every single adaptation I lost more
of myself and my ability to know who I was and how to ultimately stand on my
Somewhere within me I must’ve thought that if I could create the
life she had that this would make me feel safe. That the experience she
gave me could be recreated by giving myself a life she had. It seemed a
simplistic life model, one that many used to seek. Get married, have
children, support your husband (who will in return support you), run a
household, provide a home for the family, grow old together and look after
grand kids. This to me was my sign of safety. It was based around another
and the environment one live in.
As I moved through my life I rarely queried the parameters I had
put around it, around myself. I rarely looked around or stepped back far
enough to look at this model, this family through a different window. I
was in one room of a house and never ventured out. Later in life I was able to
see my nan’s life in a different light. I saw her struggles, her fears of
a husband that drank, spent many hours at the pub and in moments was
abusive. I witnessed her attempts to keep us safe in a way that she most
likely longed for. She was giving to us what she crave for herself.
I became aware of the lack of financial security that existed, yet also a
mother who gave to her sons what she could financially to ensure they had a
good life. I began to feel a woman who never allowed herself to
dream, to never ask herself what she wanted. Her life existed purely for
another. How suffocating that must’ve been. Yet I sense she never
realised she could consider something else. It wasn’t what you did
then. You took your lot in life and got on with it. She left school
at 14, worked in a shoe factory, married young. She spent her whole life
in one house, only moving out when her health deteriorated to such a point she
needed 24/7 care. As I grew and began to see her life more clearly I
realised it was her and her love that made me feel safe, not her life or the
So as I grew I fell in love with a young man who became my
husband. We married young, travelled overseas and had steady careers.
We built a home, had 3 children, went on family holidays, moved
interstate a few times. Our life together was mutually supportive and the
foundation was steady. We shared dreams and our 3rd space our
relationship, our family, our life was precious. I gave myself to it in
such a way that on reflection was unhealthy. I was doing what I thought was
necessary. I too wanted to create a family life that provided me and my
children with a sense of safety. I invested my life in my family.
Craving security from it, getting my identity through it and handing myself
over to something outside of me. I had found my new centre to gravitate.
My safe space was in my family.
When my marriage ended, it felt like I ended. My world
imploded. I had no centre. Nothing to gravitate around. I was
completely devastated and utterly lost. I had no reference point to be my
own centre, to find within myself what I needed to give myself, I had no
ability to feel safe within me for me. I had never experienced myself
like this before, I was freaking out because I didn’t know who this person was
inhabiting me. I felt like a complete foreigner. Yet for all that I
screamed no one heard, no one saw and I couldn’t get out. I was in this
experiencing in this life and I didn’t want it.
Throughout those initial despair ridden months i was surrounded by
My children by necessity were in my space. How confronting
it must’ve been for them to watch a mother crumble. A woman who
previously held a family and home together, who was efficient, functional and
always present. A woman who know could barely move, cried continuously
and was engulfed in grief that looked like it would completely swallow her
up. It wasn’t for them to save me, yet I know they tried. I had to
protect them from my experience. It was a continuous dance of feeling my
way through without impacting them too much, yet also being in the space as
they moved through their own feelings and allowing them to do so with as much
love, support and respect for them I could muster. It was tricky and
messy. I knew I needed help and it wasn’t for me as a mother to lean on
my kids for it.
We were all going through this family breakdown individually yet
also as a whole.
My external family were on the other side of the country, and
whilst my mum came over for the first week , after that we were all on our
own. I knew my kids had their friends who would provide support as
My prime support system consisted entirely of one person –
my counsellor. One sole being who stuck close by me and gave me
what I needed until I reached a point where I could start to give to
myself. Sometimes this is the way. Temporarily we may need
support from another and that is okay. I was guided to find my way
through this fog. Time and time again I was encouraged to go within
myself, deeper and deeper, feeling by feeling to discover my own answers and
She was my sounding board, my reflector, my compass, my
beacon. It was not a place of dependency, it was a space of confront
through truth, it was a place I could be messy. I felt
cocooned, embraced, championed and supported. Where every
thought, feeling, word, action, reaction, response I brought in was okay.
Everything was validated and in allowing this – I began to realise that
one of the first steps is to allow yourself to be exactly as you are. For
as long as I tried to ignore what I was really feeling and hear it and feel it
and see it and touch it – i was being untruthful to myself.
I was pushing away huge parts of myself that i didn’t want to
own. Once I was shown and encouraged to lean into myself, true healing
commended. I discovered how to hold a space for myself wherein I could be
okay with whatever was going on – I learned to listen to me, to see me. I
dove right in.
It was a space where:
could just come out
emotions could be expressed
was beginning to establish between my inner and outer worlds
connection with self as a human spiritual being was strengthened
had told myself for years were lovingly confronted
time again I was encouraged to go beyond my experience and look for the gift
continue to look for where my choice is in what i am experiencing
rise above by going to the depths of my existence
heal through compassion, nurturance and integrity
Nothing was ever skimmed over, being thorough all the way in,
nothing was left unturned.
Transformation through acceptance.
This was the space I was held in and ultimately I learnt to give
This is the safe space.
That I have co-created and continue to nurture and respect.
In this safe space.
I am okay.
And therein began the process of creating my own safe space, a
place that already existed and in doing so began the process of finding me.
I would hear it often from people “just move”, “ just make a start”, “keep
going” as helpful as they thought they were being – it just didn’t help.
It’s a really tough gig to be told to move when you don’t want to and you have
no idea where you are moving to. It is scary as hell.
I simply didn’t want to move. I wanted life to stand
still. Actually I wanted it to go backwards. I wanted to be
able to rewind my life back to certain moments. I longed to undo
conversations, I yearned to put in conversations that I didn’t have, I craved
to relieve the glorious moments and to have the opportunity to play it all out
differently – but I couldn’t.
Having someone to tell me to look forward when all that looked like was a
big black hole was like having salt poured onto an open wound. Of course
their intention was not to cause harm, however it didn’t help. If
anything it put more pressure on what was already a pressurised
environment. I was in a pressurised environment.
Internally I was cooked, my nervous system on high alert, my heart was
pumping its hardest to keep up, my lungs were doing their thing on limited
activity, my eyes were dull and my complexion pale . My emotions
were in a constant state of flux, my thoughts were having a wild old time and
every survival strategy I had been taught to put in place was
activated. The warning bells were loud.
No one knew what my internal world was like. So whilst I looked
okay, I operated relatively okay – no one actually knew what was going on
So yes it is important to keep moving however it is vitally important to
get the support system you need to heal. There is a time to go within to
stay still, to feel and heal. Like the seed in the ground.
Hibernate and do what is needed. There will be a time to move and begin
Do not force the healing process, it takes time. Be gentle, kind and
compassionate. Your heart will let you know when it is time to move.
I am not exactly sure where to start. I know I need to move, make a
start and being creating a new life. One chapter closed, beginning a new
one. But where do I start?
The beginning? Middle? or End?
Do I start at the beginning? Do I know where the beginning ‘is’? Not
sure I can pin point where this journey started. Depends what perspective
and approach I want to take. Is the beginning where my life journey
started or when this hugely challenging and confronting chapter of my life
started? and when did it actually start? Is it possible
it has been slowly unravelling over a long period of time in such a way that I
didn’t notice? Like roots of a vine spreading underground popping up
through the soil randomly. Is it possible that my marriage – the one
thing I adored and prized more highly then life itself – was slowly transforming
that i didn’t even notice? I imagine it may have been like cancerous
cell. People have cancerous cells within them for years before they are
diagnosed with the illness. Perhaps a marriage starts to disintegrate in
such the same way. Where we are oblivious to what is actually going on
within as there are no visible signs.
Do I start in the middle, in the midst of it all? The middle is
messy. I sense we are always in the middle. Because I sure as
hell don’t feel like I am at the end. How would I know that is has ended?
and what exactly am i referring to here. What would the end look like?
What would it feel like? What am I doing? How different would my life be?
Is that how we know when something has ended. Is this a way to ascertain
when we have finally moved through a tough time and the chapter has
ended? Maybe there are certain markers we can look for that would suggest
that for now, a large percentage of what was needed to be experienced, felt,
healed and transformed has been done. Meaning that we can move into
Perhaps its not so much, one phase ending but of a continual rolling
motion through experiences. Maybe its not of looking for where something
began and ended but to sense yourself in the midst, in the centre of your self,
your experience. If we place ourselves right in the middle, the core we
can see all around. We have a 365 experience. Maybe viewing life
this way enables us to find a pivot point from which to view and move.
As it ends it begins
Maybe from this vantage point we can see that nothing really begins or
ends. It never really leaves. It is all around us, within
us. Nothing is ever separate. Perhaps we are not walking a linear
time line, one straight line that our calendars and clocks would endure and
dictate. How different would it be if we experience being right in the
middle of our life, and that our life is right in the middle of all of
So if there is no actual beginning, or end to this chapter, to this experience
– all of a sudden the way forward becomes clearer. I don’t have to
worry about starting or finishing in the ‘right’ moment. I can
choose from ‘here’ what needs to be experienced, related with and the direction
I decide the direction, impressed upon by the life force within me.
One step, one step, one step …. that is all that is needed.
Life will unfold in this manner, like the rose buds blooms.
The importance of acknowledgement as you start to move once more
One of the most helpful processes I undertook was taking stock of where I
am at right now. This can be done many times. Quite often I felt
like I wasn’t getting anywhere. I was in a constant state of
uncertainty and overwhelm for many, many months following the ending of my
marriage. All I could see was where I wasn’t.
But this incessant activity of looking at what ‘wasn’t’, totally invalided
where I had come from. Take it from me, where you are right
now means you have moved, you have stepped, you have healed and you have
survived. Yes you may not be where you would like to be, just yet,
however you have moved and made progress. If we don’t take time to
stop, look around and review where we are right now, what is in our lives now
(that previously wasn’t), what is no longer in our lives (that had to be let
go) we are doing ourselves a huge injustice.
Self compassion guides us to say “Hey, well done, look where you are at now. Look at the steps you have taken. You did this, no one else – you did it. Nice one. Self compassion then takes our hand and says “keep going”. We have a way to go, work to continue, we are on our way.
So take stock of where you are at right now. Grab your journal and
write some answers to the following:
What have you healed?
What do I have in my life now, that I didn’t and
I am grateful for?
What is no longer in my life that I am grateful
There came a point along my healing transformational journey that I
realised I was waiting. Sitting in a holding pattern. Not
moving. Sitting within my existence. Grabbing my writing journal I
sat and allowed this one to share with me. Fascinating what was revealed
when I invited ‘the waiting one’ to be heard.
Keep writing, allowing free flowing stream of consciousness … what is in
me waiting to be heard, waiting to be written, waiting to be expressed, waiting
to be born.. I wonder… in the deep recesses of where I am …what and who is
Listening to the waiting
Why was I in this position where I felt I had to wait? Did someone tell me
to wait? Perpetually waiting. Yet in this state of waiting, much
was put off, put on hold and stifled. Perhaps it is this itself that
has been waiting, the state of waiting has been waiting to be
heard. In this free flow the waiting is now speaking.
It feels no barriers, no limits, no restriction, no need to filter or no
one to tell me off. Tell me off for speaking inappropriately, behaving
inappropriately, not doing, not acting out of fear of reprimand for doing
whatever it is ‘wrong’ or not correct.
What if I don’t want to wait anymore? What if there is no longer any need
to wait? What if all those ones who told me to wait are no longer
here or play a part or influence me? What if I have been waiting for those who
told me to wait, to let me know it is okay to go. To move.
What if I think I have been told to wait but in actuality I heard it once
and never knew it had expired. How long ago did it
expire? How long have I been waiting, holding, putting off out of a
fear of reprimand? How long will it take to stop?
What is it I have waiting for? At what point did I start
waiting? Did someone tell me? Did I think I had to wait?
What waiting needs
Waiting for the go ahead. I have been looking and all I have
seen is that I have been waiting for ‘them’ to tell me it is okay to start, to
be me and live my life. I have been waiting for ‘them’ to let me
know I don’t have to do their way anymore. That it is okay to live a
life that is fulfilling to me, in a way that feels so, so, so right
for me. A rightness that comes from deep within my core, the place
where my inner voice speaks. The one who keeps saying “I have your
back”. “I have your back” from what? From being hurt by
others. The one who seeks to protect from further
attack. The one who guides me and the rest of my team as to how best
look after us, to nurture, to love to heal.
The consequence of waiting
Waiting can result in patterns of procrastination, putting things off,
stifling creativity, inhibiting growth, limiting the experience of joy, creates
patterns that whatever is done is not enough, creates perpetual doing in order
to achieve. To achieve the go ahead to live, to be me.
Why is it that I still feel a sense of having to get approval, the okay to
stop waiting and start living? Heavily engrained. Observed. Set
in place. The way. The family way.
Wait until the kids are grown, till they have finished school, till they
have left home, wait until you have enough money, wait until everything is
sorted, wait until you have been told you can, wait until it works for everyone
else, wait until your husband says you can, wait until your parents have died,
wait until you know more, wait until there is nothing else left to wait
for. The thing is waiting in itself creates more waiting. It
is not the answer it seeks.
The only answer to waiting. Is to stop.
There is no ones whose permission I need to stop waiting.
“I don’t know why you do this to yourself!” His words penetrated sharply into my heart. The awkward silence between us had been shattered. Feeling his frustration toward me shook my core. My husband always been my lighthouse, my rock, my safe shore. Ever dependable he was my steadier. Never had a harsh word been said. Until now.
This outburst of exasperation had rocked me. Leaving me vulnerable. My lighthouse had turned his light off.
It had been a long, hot, exhausting and challenging day. Today had been the beginning of our trek into one of the remotest regions of Western Australia.
We had done what we could to
prepare for the journey. The back of the
4WD was full of food, water and other necessities. Where we were heading there was no phone
coverage, no internet or shops. Whilst
we had travelled to Central Australia many times this journey would be
different, we knew that and were aware of the need to take this trek
seriously. Remote outback Australia it
not to be taken lightly. The land
commands respect. She is both rugged and
harsh whilst being breathtakingly beautiful.
My response was lightening quick. The words flowing like water from a damn that had just been burst. “I do this to myself because it helps me to grow. I love this country deeply and passionately and I want to experience it, and experience me in it. I need to get out and explore more of what I think I am.” I too was feeling frustrated. From the moment we hit the track I was engulfed with fear. I was scared and uncomfortable. The voices in my head already ripping into me far more than his words could. How stupid I had been to think that this trip could be done?
Silence once more permeated the air between us. Our outbursts releasing pent up emotions. Ilooked at him, searching his face for some resemblance of the gentle and caring husband, I had known for close to 20 years. Nothing. He had gone. The man with his hands on the steering wheel had his eyes fixed diligently on the 4wd track in front of us. Concentration taking its toll.
Months of planning and preparation
had gone into pulling this ‘holiday’ together for just us. Our first time away for many years without
our children. I thought it would be a
great opportunity for us to connect more deeply and get to know one another
I didn’t see this coming though. How was it that with every kilometre that we
drove deeper and deeper into Country the more further away from one another we
seemed? How was it that the more
remote we travelled, the more suffocated and claustrophobic I felt? The silence so deafening, I wanted to
scream. I needed to run back. Back to the safety of the life I had
known. Keeping all in order. It was too late though. We had begun.
The journey commenced.
Unconscious and out of sight we had agreed to undertake this
There is only one road in and out to El Questro. What was becoming increasingly clear was that who I was going in would not be who I was coming out. Already on day 1, I was unravelling. We were both challenged.
This was not a trip of coming together but of journeying deeper into ourselves. Two souls. Once we turned onto Gibbs Rd, it felt as if we had entered a completely different time paradigm. Nothing we knew would be the same again. What we felt we needed, we didn’t. What you think you want, you don’t. There was only one road in and out. No where to run or hide.
1. a consideration or estimate of the similarities or
dissimilarities between two things or people.
Comparing oneself to another can be detrimental to one’s sense of self. Always will there be differences. We are all unique individuals endeavouring to be the best version of ourselves.
this the only comparison? Between us and another? Recently I
discovered an internal comparative dynamic running unconsciously which has been
having detrimental effects to self and my ability to step fully into the new
life. The comparison of myself as I am ‘now’ to the self I was, before my
divorce and the changes (to my life and self) that ensued and necessary.
Two Libby’s clashing and comparing against one another. An
internal battle hidden deeply out of sight.
roles deeply imbedded of being a wife and full time mother had created a
persona that I solely identified with. Here now, the roles have gone and
with it the ‘Libby’ I was for over 20 years. Loss, sadness, confusion and
grief experienced deeply. I have changed through the divorce process and
it has been necessary to let go what I was and begin creating me ‘anew’.
the life I had continues to dissipate into the ethers, more and more spaces
frees up for me – here – now. I have found this space to be a
terrifying experience. The silence of an empty home deafening.
huge gapping whole was present when my marriage ended and my husband moved
out. This took many years to adjust to. Since that moment
both my sons have moved out of home venturing on their own. Each one
leaving a void, an emptiness needing to be filled. My daughter now on the
precipice of her own journey. Each departure stripping me bare. The
role as wife removed, the one as mother shifting and changing.
Roles that I came to realise I identified as. Dangerous on
reflection. Yet many of us do. No judgement.
I learn to be with me now and explore my innerness I am clashing up against who
worlds colliding; married with kids compared to divorced with an ever emptying
nest. The worlds don’t match. How could they?
have been comparing who I am now to who I used to be, what I sense to do with
what I used to do, how my life is now to how it used to be. A constant comparative flow.
the lovingly familiar ‘old’, my ‘new’ has had trouble stacking up. It has
no strength. It is newly forming, like an embryo it needs nurture and
care. Yet in the looking back and seeking who I was, I have been
neglecting who I am growing into now. So much energy has been invested in
looking back and seeking ‘her’ that is has been at the expense of creating a
space within something else can grow.
of self to self is damaging, restrictive and not supportive to growth.
I ‘was’ is loved however full attention and presence must be brought into the
here and now. As I free up all the angst, wishing for what was, judgments
and frustrations of these two worlds colliding, I can create a pristine
environment within which a new life can be created.
oozing into the spaces previously taken up with comparison.
Whilst I have battled around in loss, grief in all its glory has also
given to me.
Grief is a very powerful force. It’s
intensity governed by how great your capacity has been to love another and to
be loved by another. The depths of grief is often in direct correlation
to love. This force can be destructive and will wipe you out like never
experienced before, yet it is also a creative force unlike any other.
When my marriage ended grief was my faithful companion for a couple of
years, and even now there is residue of this loss. Fighting against this
force though intensified my experience. When I allowed myself to succumb to it
and rides it waves, my experience began to change. I worked with this
creative force, through its destructive nature.
Grief reveals you. Never before had I felt
so vulnerable and exposed. I felt I was naked to all who saw me including
myself. The defences were down, I crumbled in front of my own eyes and I
had to own aspects of myself that I had spent years trying to hide. Grief
is messy, it has no timeline or structure. It doesn’t care who you are,
what you’ve done and what you have. This can be scary. Embracing
the revelation of who you actually are is a gift she gives you.
Grief is a reservoir. When I was battling
my ‘divorce grief’, I found myself feeling this loss within previous loss
experiences. My brothers death, my parents divorce, family breakdowns,
my nan’s battle with dementia it was all there within as if waiting for the
light to be shone on it. Anything that I had not previously felt and
healed was stirred up. The ‘sludge at the bottom of the pond’ is what it
felt like. Grief is like that, classic Freud – its repressed, out of
sight, unable to be dealt with until this force pushes back on itself enough so
it is brought to light.
If you are battling with grief I encourage you to get the support you