Within the circle, with fire, water, earth and wind, asking for calmness to subside my sickened stomach. I crave a cigarette, but look down at the stack of neatly written letters in my lap.
I ask my mind to calm, so I can visualize this experience and breathe in every nuance. I exhale agitation and nervousness. Inhale peace and acceptance.
Do I care at this moment that who I am is being challenged?
No, I don't think I really do, so I sit with my fears and hurt and let the salty water fill my senses.
The first letter I burn, I visualize their face within the flames, and snip, my imaginary scissors cut our tie.
I patiently allow myself to feel this void.
As I speak the second name, I feel my tension turn into tiny tears that blur my vision.
"I release you with lo...."
My nose is running and eyes watering quite out of control.
I remind myself to stay present.
"But I don't want to let you go." Is the devil on my shoulder. I think I might be sick.
I dig deep, willing myself to feel this, every part of what this is.
One after another, some in groups, others solo, my letters catch flame and burn up into nothing but ash.
I finally make it to the last one, and I am clinging. This one is an after-thought. This one hurt. This letter I only wrote a few short hours ago, and a little heart is drawn by the name it holds.
My chest feels like a sucking wound and my nose has already been wiped on my knee a few times, so I discover a new wiping location.
Deep breathe, I can do this.
Amidst the ashes of all the others, I lay the letter down. I am crushed, devastated and barely functioning. If I had to move for any reason, I am sure my knees would buckle and I would be out of luck. Fingers crossed, no sudden tsunami.
As I say the name, an then the words to follow, my shoulder devil is screaming no, no, no! What kind of fool am I? Can I take it back?
Flames devour the name, and the little drawn heart. With a deep breath, I am done.
The moments that follow are a calm collection of thanks. Thank you for not backing down. Thank you for staying present. Thank you for releasing these ties. I am not dead, and as the experience settles, I realize my hollowness is slowly evaporating.
I live a state of hollowness, but I don't have to any more. All of these things that made me feel small, invisible, useless, dehumanized, stupid for wanting, thinking or being....they are lost in ash. Yes I loved each and every name attached to those letters. I will not love them any less.
The act created this space that says "I will not live by your standards, or accept being your leftovers"
I am indeed my own person, with my own dreams and thoughts, hopes and fears. I know that others know this, I'm not an idiot...generally...but this is my signal to be done.
I wrote a letter to my future husband, and even though I forgot to mention that I would prefer he be straight...I covered all the bases.
So back to the beach, as I exit the safety of that space, and face the inevitable ups and downs life has in store for me:
I feel lighter. Safer. Calmer.
I still have leaky eyes, after I wash the soot from my arms. But I think that slow bleed is one of patient acceptance. The storm in my belly has died, and I can swallow without a lump in the way.
One step closer to being my authentic self. Baby steps, but still moving.
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