Collapsing | Rebuilding

Getting to know myself has been one of the most difficult, and wonder-filled things I’ve done in life. This morning, it’s felt something like standing over top a dark abyss…or maybe it’s more like looking out into the cosmos, to the beyond the beyond, wondering what the heck is all in here. Either way, it’s me, looking into me, and finding an expanse I have been unaware of for a long, long time. What am I going to find in ALL of me? The thought is intriguing and chilling as hell.

If anything has been a slippery slope, it’s been this.

About three years ago I was abruptly shaken awake. It was as if I had been, my whole life, walking alone along a stretch of pristine, white snow. The landscape serene, yet inside, I was strong-willing myself to make it across its wide expanse. Here and there, haunting vespers would wisp by, nudging an internal unsettling, reminding me of the layers of chilled darkness that lay just below the snow covering and icy wall beneath me. Trusting that this layer of ice was strong enough to keep me and all that I carry above water, I walked further out to the open until a loud POP shot beneath me. Okaaaay….careful, Lisa. Tepidly, taking another few steps, and CRACK, I felt the earth shift under me. Shit, I’m in danger. Slowly, carefully I inched forward as the ground splintered and squeaked out its warnings. And then, one step too many, the ground caved and fell away, and in I plunged. Utter shock. Complete submersion.

My life after childhood had been as serene as this stretch of snow. My young years were filled with so much chaos, but as an adult, I had created a life of stability, certainty and safety – in my home, in my relationships, in my faith. And then my early 30s hit me like a ton of bricks. Two miscarriages, POP POP; a car wreck that landed my two girls in the hospital, CRACK; residue and triggering of undealt-with childhood trauma, CREEEEAAAAKK; foundational and core beliefs and relationships crumbling under the pressure and acceptance of cold, hard reality and SNAP. DONE. Overtaken by the frigid waters.

What I thought had been solid ground underneath me was actually something so delicate and fragile, it was absolutely inadequate to support the weight of all my hidden fears, suppressed emotions, and unspoken truths…all of the DEEP that I carried in me….

For a long time the illusion that I had built up and projected to others, the illusion that told others, “See, I’m normal! I’m just like you! My life looks just like yours!” felt like the only thing keeping me from plunging into the dark and dangerous waters below. And it did. It served its purpose for as long as it could. But as I look back, I see how this illusion, and all of my striving to keep it up and running, was actually the thing keeping me from experiencing all I needed to become fully alive. Living under the vague and unrelenting terror of falling through is not living, not really. I needed to fall through to see that I would find my way out. To see that the waters would not kill me. To see that she had lessons to teach me. To see that I would fall, but then I would rise. And if I could do it once, I could do it again, and again, and again.

Loss and enlightenment had shattered my house of cards, and I struggled to keep upright the few cards I had remaining. But then there was that heartbroken, exasperated, given-up, blink-of-a-moment of surrender, and there I knelt, open and empty handed, as the last of my world, as I had known it, fluttered away.

It just wasn’t working anymore, and I had to stop forcing it.

There were so many moments that led to this moment of surrender. So many times I was confronted by a new situation that sparked a truth or reality that directly challenged beliefs I had held my whole life. In my bones, I will always remember the feeling of those angst-filled, heart-stilling, breath-sucking moments of, Oh shit, that kind of makes sense. But IF that is TRUE, then… So many new encounters, new friendships, new life experiences, new pain, that led to the chipping away. The chipping away of my beliefs about God and ‘His’ requirements to be in good standing and security with ‘Him’, beliefs about my roles and duties to the people I was partnered with, beliefs about who I am and how I fit in this world. And over and over I was faced with the choice to accept or suppress these new realities. I guess, basically what I’m saying is, this deconstruction was no act of rebellion. It was a creeping awakening. At times it was torrential, others subtle, but always persistent.

I find it interesting that I don’t really write about the specifics of my deconstruction, that I’ve never really written it all out. I think it’s because the actual itemized list seems to cheapen the actual experience of it, or maybe I’m still trying to protect people’s feelings, or my own, or maybe all of it. But I’m seeing, that’s not really the point for me anyways. For a while, maybe. For a while, I was very concerned about where I landed with everything. Finding THE truth. Reconciling EVERYTHING…relationships, faith, injustices. But looking back, the process, the journey, this has been the only REAL thing all along; the process of deep exploration into what I’m made up of. And this uncovering has changed me, no doubt. It has surely led me to different beliefs about myself, about the world, about God/Source/Ultimate Reality, about humanity. But those things, if they can change once, they can change again. So, there’s no need to become too attached to them anyways.

And I’m never thinking anyone should believe about their life what I believe about mine, or that their understandings should exactly mirror my own, because no one has lived life in this body, through these eyes. So I have no desire to defend my beliefs or ease someone else’s anxieties about my beliefs. They are my mine to weigh and hold responsibility for. I get this one life that I know of for sure, and I will take responsibility for my footprint. I’ll also leave others to take responsibility for theirs. Maybe there’s no need to compare the specifics, but commiserating the experience together…that seems more productive.

First the falling, then the rising. First the the deconstruction, then the rebuilding…the individuation…this process of becoming aware of oneself, of one’s make-up, and the way to discover one’s true, inner self. Coming aware to the self that was, is, has always been, before there was loss or fear or abuse or teaching or obligation or stereotypes or judgement or expectations. The self that exists regardless of our relation to others or to this world. The brilliant essence that simply IS.

It is your, it is my, I AM.

And it is hard and gritty, this process of individuation. It takes courage and resolve because a lot of people will not understand your need to become an individuated and self-realized human, and many will simply be incapable of supporting it. Many people will see your changing and shifting and it will stir up the insecurities they find in themselves (but remember it shook awake the insecurities in you as well). When you start opening yourself, surveying your internal landscape, cleaning out your old and festered wounds, others may feel the light shining a little too closely to their own. When you stop using your old ways to cope with the uncertainty of this world – whatever those coping mechanisms may have been…relationships, religion, behaviors, beliefs – it will feel unsafe for others, just as it felt unsafe for you at first. When you start having your own thoughts and beliefs, to those close to you it will feel like separation, for you it will feel like separation, because it is separation – and separation is painful. But just remember pain is not bad. Pain is temporal, and under the right care, it is transformative. And we have everything we need to care for our pain. (I did a talk on this recently – you can check it out here.)

Because I’ve changed, my relationships have changed and had to undergo their own testing, working through, and rebuilding. There has been insecurity and posturing and releasing and grief and blossoming – all the things. Parts of my old self (a self that many people have known, loved, and grown very accustomed to) have been, and will continue to be, burnt away as new elements are being forged. AND there are still parts of me that remain unknown, even to myself. Not knowing what will shift and what will stay has required a flexibility and a letting go in my relationships. An acceptance. A grace. It has required an unconditional love, a love not conditioned on belief, or thinking, but a love just because. A love that rounds hard lines tender, soft and fleshy. And often times, this is a kind of love you will not find reflected back to you. Often times, you will need to create this love on your own.

This road is a difficult one. This road is one that asks us to deal with the pain and suffering that is ours to suffer – no more deflecting it, no more suppressing it, no more pushing it on to others, no more covering it over or sweeping it aside.

And because this road is so difficult, it requires our awareness, our presence, our patience, our tender care, our compassion, our gentleness, our loving-kindness. These are the most precious gifts we could cultivate within ourselves, and for ourselves. And when they are blossomed in us they can’t help but radiate from us. Ah, how beautiful!

So, this is why I put this out here to you. If you find yourself on the verge of drowning, or on your knees as the life you’ve known slips from your grasp, know that I’m there with you. Know that you are in the process of transformation. I’ve seen in my own life that this journey has come at a great cost, yet I continually choose it because I have lived the other side of it – the denial of self – and I know that cost to be much greater. Would I do it all over again, knowing that I would become the person I am today? You bet your fucking ass I would. Today I live more bravely, more awake, more freely than I ever have in my life.

And how do you deal with the in between – the space between no longer and not yet? Take time to hold gratitude for this present moment, this present breath. For the things that are already beautiful in your life. Practice gentleness and care towards the pain you are uncovering. Hold space for hope, for the potential of more goodness, of more freedom to come your way. Know that you are creating space to see more and more clearly. Know that you don’t have to figure it all out right now. Know that you are good – through and through. Know that you are loved.

All my love, friends 

Lisa