I Surrender: Moving Towards Wholeness After Heartbreak.
I thought love always wins.
I thought the flame, even the smallest flicker of the last ember, could be revived.
I thought that’s how the story goes.
Tonight, I feel I may have been wrong, naïve to what I so badly wanted to be true.
I thought you would hear my words and know the answer in the depths of your soul.
But tonight, I can’t run, I can’t hide, I can’t distract myself, I can’t force you to wake up.
Please wake up and dance with me.
Tonight, I stay seated. I sit with the pain, the heartache, and the despair of your unanswered call.
I think about living the rest of my life without ever knowing what we could be. The life we could create. The unique reality that can only be manifested through the fusion of us.
Your gentle heart, your rich laughter, your vibrant wild side.
My fiery spirit, my compassionate soul, the twinkle in my eye.
Together, our reality would transcend the material realm of this Earth. The realm we are all unconsciously waiting to be liberated from.
I reach out to touch that reality with my fingertips, but it’s just out of grasp. I struggle, fight, and plead.
Then, I surrender.
I feel hollow inside. There is an empty space where my heart is supposed to be dancing, leaping, singing, beating to the rhythm of the sunset sky. Instead, it’s quiet.
The lack of sound reverberates into the physical pain that squeezes my chest.
I let the grief permeate every cell of my body. I let it consume my thoughts, my emotions, my being. There’s nothing left of me to fight what I’ve been trying to keep at bay.
I usually fight my hope of hearing from you. I fight my desire to bring you up in conversation. I fight my wonder of what you’re doing in this very moment, if you’re thinking of me, if I’m going to get another 3 am call from you confessing your deep longing for my being.
But tonight, I have no fight left.
I long for your being. I long for us to lie under the stars once more, even if it would destroy me after the moment had passed.
I don’t have the sparkle in my eye that says, it’ll be okay in the end. Tonight, it’s not okay. I’m not okay. I only hope that one day, it won’t hurt so much.
Tonight, my fire is dim. I long for the day it will once again breathe life into the people I’m surrounded by. The day my fire will crackle with the laughter that heals even the darkest of valleys within the soul, my soul.
I know they say that time heals all wounds. But really, I think, if we’re lucky, time helps us develop compassion and softness for the scars that the wounds leave behind.
Time allows us to surrender to the grief so it can transform into a new and beautiful manifestation.
I’m not there yet. I’m not entirely sure it’s possible to get there or how.
So, for tonight, I surrender to the reality that is sitting beside me, yet can’t be touched.
I surrender to the unexpressed love that lives just beneath the surface of my everyday existence.
I surrender not because I’m weak, but because the only way out is through.
I surrender because I want to move towards the wholeness that waits on the other side of this heartbreak.
Caitlin Climes is rooted in a wild wonder of the world she finds herself immersed in. This past fall, she spent time traveling throughout Thailand and Bali to explore new ways of being. She has experience as a public speaker, co-founder of an environmental organization, outdoor spiritual guide, and a leader of camping and adventure trips around the world. Caitlin has always been interested in exploring the human condition, and now seeks to understand how writing can be used to spark and cultivate the subtle state of awareness that connects our experiences. She feels the interconnectedness of all life, and aims to manifest her awe through the written word.