While seeking solace for an unexpected sadness recently, I came across Rebelle Society’s wonderful advice for a broken heart.
My heart is not broken, merely bruised; my pride is dented, but intact. I know this because I know how it feels to have your heart shattered into a million pieces and each individual piece trampled on over a period of time. I remember what it felt like to lose someone I truly loved… and though I am sad, I know this is not that same broken feeling. Though I cared more than a little, it was never meant to be a long term thing.
Reading it, surrounded by the kind words and happy wishes, hilarious observations and unicorn pictures from my beyond amazing friends and family, I began to remember other things, too.
I remember how much I treasure my solitude and my ability to be happy alone.
I remember how lucky I am to have friends and family who see through my insecurities to the beacon of light underneath. They know me even better than I know myself, and they guide me back to myself when I lose my way.
I remember fleeting and enduring passions – for horses, skating, sewing and more.
I remember the feeling of freedom and independence that was hiding under the longing to belong.
I remember that I do belong, many times over, with the people who accept me and love me exactly as I am.
I remember that friendship (with people and with animals) is the most precious thing in the world.
I remember that once, from the depths of darkness, a newer, happier version of me emerged. Though I am nowhere near darkness from this particular episode, I am still excited to leap forward into the next edition of myself.
And along with the remembering, I realised that I have, in the last few years, been building not just a lifestyle but also myself.
Of course I have grieved, I have been sad. But I can feel myself already leaving the disappointment behind and bounding forward into another phase of my life.
What do you remember when you need to reconnect with yourself? What gets you through periods of sadness?
photo credit: Chris Gin via photopin cc | This post first appeared on Letters from my Twenties.
