Undammed

There I was.

It started with an inexplicable torrent of tears while at the beach with my kids. Maybe the cracks started showing up weeks earlier while in Greece, a trip to reclaim that sacred destination as my own, traveling solo for the first time to the place I first visited on my honeymoon. They certainly became more visible through the (Hindu) holiday season – nine days of fasting on my own, no longer celebrating the day dedicated to married women & their husbands, trying to recreate a sense of family for my kids during Diwali. It undeniably ripped open at my youngest’s birthday dinner (read unchecked tears and feeling completely alone while sitting at a table full of my family members), following the evening I felt my heart shatter into a thousand pieces all over again.

This season has been hard. I know it’s not just me. Every client I have spoken with has expressed a similar ambivalence, a mixture of hope & dread, gratitude & exhaustion, perhaps glimmers of joy shrouded beneath a fog of deep sadness. Some refer to it as ambiguous grief, the outcome of intangible yet remains so palpable in one’s psyche.  It’s a time of transitions, an uncertain-magical-unnerving-liminal period beyond the certainty of what was, but faaaaar from any recognizable sense of what will be. It evokes a desire to cling to the past, to crawl back under the covers as it were – as dysfunctional as it may have been, there is still a comfort to viscerally knowing what it felt like, having a sense of how to get through it, and knowing that it’s survivable.

That fist of clinginess is exhausting though. It’s like running up the downward escalator. We get nowhere fast and eventually end up tumbling back to the present moment. Less resourced, completely exhausted, and facing the wrong direction. Ass backward, one might say.

So here I am.

The dam, the façade I had built to make myself believe I was in control and healed, that I put in place to make myself believe that the world believed I was solid & stable & secure & worthy & valuable (ah, there it is again – “am I good enough?!?”) has crumbled completely. It feels like all that was choked up behind it has rushed out and is consuming me from the inside out.

I started feeling more irritable, more on edge. More arguments with my daughters. Choice words then deafening silence with my ex. Isolation and tears, so many tears. Punishing my body & soul by not going to yoga classes or practicing meditation. A quiet anguish resulting from internalized anger of not being seen & heard, from the fear of losing those whom I have opened my heart to (again).  At least part of my anxiety leading up to the elections, and the disappointment, rage, and angst coming out of it may have been an external reflection of all that was seething and churning deep within.

I am feeling the sharpness of my edges. It hurts and stings and is deeply uncomfortable. I am hitting against boundaries & riverbanks that I didn’t know existed. As the river of life attempts to rush through and regain lost ground, I am noticing all kinds of rubbish & rocks impeding the flow. Bruises and overwhelm as the current dips, whips through shallow parts, and pools in fissures. I am a far cry from reclining on a raft over smooth & serene waters.

I think it’s better than hiding though, unconsciously holding onto & re-enacting familiar ‘good girl’ patterns that prioritize others comfort over my well-being. This patriarchal disposition of not allowing myself to recognize anger, of questioning my own needs let alone allowing myself space to feel desire, is entrenched, embedded, entangled deep within me. I certainly don’t have answers, but I am beginning to ask better questions.

I imagine this is the path of healing. Often intense, fierce, and unexpected. And then, like a river flowing, expansive, spacious, full of new vistas and possibility. A place of lightness and surrender. It may feel like I am back in the same place, but I have to believe I am moving through the gyre, a little closer to knowing my Self & living my purpose.  

This too shall pass. The flow of the river will even out, currents will calm and as life blossoms beneath the surface, a sense of equanimity will ripple across the surface. It’s inevitable. In the meantime, I must unclench my fists and open my heart & palms to take it all in. Practice coming home to myself. Let go, and let come. In time….

I Am. Sohum.

Men may dam it and say that they have made a lake, but it will still be a river.

It will keep its nature and bide its time, like a caged animal alert for the slightest opening.

In time, it will have its way; the dam, like the ancient cliffs, will be carried away piecemeal in the currents.

- Wendell Berry