you & me

I Did Not… I Do Not… Want to Write This.

 

This is the piece I never wanted to write.

This is a truth I did not want to hold. But I will.

The life I desire and am committed to asks that I let go of what is no longer true.

I did the first part of this piece almost six months ago.

This second part feels even harder because some of me has been waiting to be rescued (again) and I’m finally owning that he’s not coming.

No one is.

It’s me.

I get to rescue me and this is part of that process.

I’ve been working with the energy of trust for pretty much all of 2021, and like all things true, they often choose me and I later decide to consciously accept.

Lord knows I’m a struggler and will often long it out… this one has been a very deep lesson that has brought me to my knees.

The work I do is based around connection and relating, so it feels right and true that I share part of my own direct and fiery initiation to my next level of becoming — for aren’t we always becoming until we breathe our last breath? The spiral draws us inexorably onwards, like it or not.

In 2018 I met a man I thought I’d be with for always. I could feel the truth of us, like a memory emerging. Oh, this is the place…

We got together in the reals, finally in spring 2019 — equinox, to be precise — after hours and hours of video calls and messages. It was like the best adventure sex dream when we met and I was one smitten kitten.

Both in love with love, both raw from fresh heartbreak, both sensitive AF. Man, it was beautiful.

(I do not want to write this)

We wanted the same things, the chemistry was insane, and I felt I’d manifested him when he showed up fulfilling 95% of all the qualities & desires I’d written about three months before we met.

We met each other’s families, parents, children, 70th birthdays, divorce proceedings, ex-negotiations, money loaned, trips taken, hotel stays, morning routines noted, coffees drunk, kisses shared, showers taken, business plans, joint venture dreams, photos — so many photos.
All. The. Fucking. Things.

(I do not want to write this)

You know that Anne Lamott quote about it being your story? And that if people wanted you to write more fondly about them, then they should have treated you better? Yeah. It makes me smile now because I used to agree with it, but I’m not sure now.

I do believe you must always speak the truth about what you see and feel, but only directly with those involved, and if you’re gonna write it down, clean it up first.

Reactive words are like little daggers, and I, for one, have zero inclination to inflict pain or leave violent residue to be remembered by.

I’ve had plenty of reactivity in the past months for sure, (and will have again, I’m a human and I don’t avoid it) but none of it has stuck because I choose to shift it — which I celebrate as a mark of my evolution and conscious capabilities. It’s nothing to do with anybody else’s behavior, and there’s a power in that. And a freedom that I am fully here for.

I actually do think everyone is doing the best with what they have available at the time.
And when that best is no longer aligned with what is wanted, you learn to walk away.

All this is to say, though I’m sure I’m not flawless, I’m pretty fucking awake and there’s nothing but love left here for that man, whichever way you slice it. That’s true. I know it in my bones.

The depth of this connection and the subsequent loss of it has taken me out. Fully.

And when I talk about trust, this is what I’m saying – it’s been the scary-ass dom experience I never could have prepared for, with life shouting ‘On your knees, bitch’ over and over as I stubbornly, chin up, refused the surrender.
Sigh.
Such a bratty sub.

I do like a challenge but this has been some next-level shit, and I am humbler and steadier because of it.
(Some after-care would have been nice, but whatever. Maybe it’s on its way.)

I trust what’s true.
I trust my body.
I trust life is always working out for me.
Most importantly, I trust myself.

And that’s how this all began.

Back in July, crying in my then kitchen because I could feel the dissonance in our connection. I could feel the lie in my body.

So I called it.

“If you’re not both feet in, I can’t do this. I won’t.”

Every single cell in my body was begging to be wrong, to have him protest but protest he did not.

Fuck.

Now I really, really have to walk the part of my talk that feels like dying. The part that knows you have to let people be who they really are and do what they want to do, which means if he truly wants to walk away I have to let him.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

(I do not want to write this)

Owning my sovereignty has never looked uglier or felt more impossible than it has these past six months. One thing I can say is that I’m not afraid to go to the depths, not one bit.
Crying until I’m sick? Check. Staying awake for 48 hours straight? Check. Drinking three smoothies in one week instead of eating any food and losing 10 kg? Check.

It’s not a badge of honor or a twisted mark of how much I love either. It’s truly allowing my body to purge and heal at a cellular level. I know this because it was temporary. The minute it felt untrue, a semblance of normalcy resumed.

It’s the relinquishing of control, of being seen to be right (ooh, that’s a big one). It’s a cracking open and spilling of my heart’s gooey contents all over the floor. It’s surrender to what is.

I’ve had some incredible support from facilitators, friends and family that I can’t even begin to tell about.

And I’m strong.

(No bricks were thrown through windows, no cars keyed, no shade thrown, either on the internet or in conversations.)

Because the truth is, the medicine was, the gift was — another deep look at my abandonment wounds (that go back generations BTW), another pass by codependency, a bigger farewell cuddle for the last vestiges of anxious attachment, a chance to step more fully into the full power of who I came here to be and an opportunity to really choose open-hearted love even in the face of incredible pain.

This might have a Part Two. I don’t know. I need to digest.

I hope there is something here for you.

The ever-loving optimist,

Jemima

***

Jemima House is an author, self-mastery guide and Yoga teacher with over 25 years of experience. Jemima teaches the highest levels of embodied wisdom, deep connection and full expression so you can dissolve old conditioning and enjoy satisfying, true relationships in love and business. She is creating communities of heart-led visionaries and entrepreneurs committed to truth, freedom and authenticity through her powerful 1:1 and group programs. Connect with her via her websiteInstagram or Facebook, and get her book “Magic & Ordinariness” on Amazon.

***

{Join us on Facebook, TwitterInstagram & Pinterest}

Comments

Rebelle Society
Rebelle Society is a unique, revolutionary online magazine reporting daily acts of Creative Rebellion and celebrating the Art of Being Alive. Rebelle Society is also a virtual country for all creatively maladjusted rebels with a cause, trying to lead an extraordinary life and inspire the world with their passion. Join us on Facebook, Instagram & Twitter for daily bites of Creative Rebellion. Join our Rebelle Insider List along with over 40k Dreamers & Doers around the world for FREE creative resources, news & inspiration in the comfort of your inbox.
Rebelle Society
Rebelle Society