This, of course, is the ‘after’. Believe me, I am plainly aware of stepping clear of that crucible which still holds shards of my spirit – where heartache brought me gasping to my knees. It is a rare lifetime that holds the epic transitions, which cause war and the greatest idyllic poems and plays. That rarity is mine…rewind… In the beginning, the love was sweet. With curious minds and hands, we felt it gently morph, thick and syrupy and fluid, into a warm and lovely honey. It was always comfortable and fun, with unspoken and honoured commitment, and the air (thick with pleasant pheromones) had a prevailing calmness. The busyness of life, with its own transitions, kept on, like the hive enshrined the honey. The love strengthened – kind / exciting / balanced / reciprocal. It was perfect.
Or not. When I was told this love could not bear the test of time, that the end was imminent, I wept, though with disbelief. Believing a solution could be found, I struggled as if to end world hunger, to find the cure for cancer, and maintain world peace, all at once! I desired to maintain this addiction, to keep my jones… my honey… Instead, I unraveled and found myself destroyed.
The pain was amazing – that which Shakespeare writes of. It was visceral, a physical ache in my chest throbbing to every cell. I lost weight, money and friends, and gained associates in Captain Morgan and Mary Jane . During those periods of crushing heart chakra’s, Uberwoman was the last thing on my mind. Simply getting through the day / hour / moment required the resolve and strength of all the Super Women put together… apparently very sad Superwomen.
Still, there was a friend who stood by me. After putting up with, "Why me?!”, I was told to a) forgive myself; b) offer forgiveness to those involved, and c) shut-up and get on with life. Ahhh, transition… that very honest slap made me realize how my heartache was my new addiction. Again I was enshrining honey, though this time of a poisonous sort. Crying myself to sleep every night and writhing in the muck offered me martyrdom, where others could offer sympathy, and I would gain their attention and pity. Another spoonful, if you please.
So, I started climbing to the mountaintop again, occasionally with one of those raggedy remains of transformation stuck to my shoe. Staring into the mirror, I changed my outlook and this time saw a handsome, pudgy Uberwoman staring back. Perhaps her suit was ill fitted and her cape needed a patch or two, but Uberwoman she was – and is! Today my outlook is where I choose to create my reality, and I choose to create Uberwoman everyday, atop the mountain, in sexy exertion.
Ahhh, transition… were it not for that, I would not know the taste of my honeyed addiction. For that, Will wrote, "Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.” Here, here!
Sandra Chow, Avatar Master in Campbell River, creates her reality while observing her beliefs to see if they’re working for her – or not.
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