My New Gig: Cheerleader!

Gimme an "N", Gimme and "A" (you get where this is going)...

Hello Loveliest of Lovelies. Can you believe it’s Jingle Bells time! Where has the year gone?! (Hmmm - I know where it buggered off to - for me anyway).

I’ve been quiet here of late, but with good reason. On this roller coaster journey from Heartbroken to Whole again - there are many twists and turns. If you’ve been following the newsletter, you’ll know that I’ve inhabited every one of Elizabeth Kubler Ross’s ‘7 Stages of Grief’ - not necessarily in the order of which they appear - and most of them I’ve inhabited multiple times over the past 6 months.

Yes folks - I’ve made it to the 6 month mark. But what have I learned along the way? And can I share any of what I have experienced in such a way, that makes reading my posts of value to you - my readers.

I have learnt so much. But the big thing I wanted to share today relates to why I’ve been quiet - both here, and on all social platforms. It’s not for having nothing to say - hell no! It’s more to do with one of the biggest takeouts I’ve had from overcoming grief.

Some of it’s an outside job, some of it’s an inside job.

For the first few months - in the depths of my pain and anguish - for me it became an outside job. Writing, sharing, talking, crying, posting, wailing - anything and everything I could do to exorcise the pain I was lugging around in every cell of my being. In the absence of being able to surgically remove the pain of heartbreak (which I totally would have done, such was the agony), I sought ways to physically, outwardly express that which was eating me alive on the inside. Being ‘in me’ was too excruciating, and the outward expression of that which I was experiencing, really assisted in moving much of the trauma through my nervous system, through my gut (which really didn’t want to let go), through my heart, and through my head.

It worked. For me. Is it the answer for everyone? Am I here to say I’ve found a way forward that will work for you? Maybe, maybe not. Healing from heartbreak is not a one size fits all approach - that much I know. And I know - because I sought the wisdom and experiences of others who had/have gone through similar situations. I read, watched, listened to so many stories of recovery. I saw parts of myself in many of them. Elements of many stories resonated, but my journey has been uniquely my own. This I do believe - that by documenting and sharing my own experiences, I sense that I have accelerated my healing process. A sort of ‘giving back and paying it forward’: by adding to the wealth of human experience - that hopefully will in turn assist others who find themselves on their own journey.

Recovery is a ‘a day at a time’ (sometimes an hour at a time)

I’ve mentioned in previous posts how our brains react to breakups with the same neuro-chemical response to overcoming addiction - the struggle is real. No longer having a cheerleader on tap to check in with every half hour of the day - I’ve had to learn to live without the instant gratification of having someone to share every thought with every day. At first it was excrutiating. Every time I completed the smallest and most menial of tasks - where previously I would have either called Adam or sent some form of communication - telling him of my triumph - now I couldn’t. At first it was unbearable.

Back in July, as part of the ‘Conscious Uncoupling’ process, my therapist recommended a complete period of abstinence - no contact whatsoever, for as long as it took to not think of him in my first first waking moment or at (seemingly) infinite moments throughout the day. I failed at this. Twice I broke protocol and reached out. Firstly by a phone call and the next via email. (I’ve always been a gal who likes to experience things first hand, rather than take someone’s word as gospel, so even thought I could see black clouds on the horizon, I ignored the obvious warning signs, hoisted the sails and set off heart-first into the storm).

Predictably I capsized and almost drowned in my own folly. Both attempts resulted in disastrous emotional relapses. (what’s that saying about the definition of insanity - something along the lines of ‘repeating the same behaviour over and over and expecting a different result’).

But hey - now I know. When the experts say “abstinence is your friend: complete ‘no contact’ is the best way forward” I believe them.

The ‘Inside Job’.

The other - more recent - part of the healing process has been an inside job. Lots and lots of thoughts and dreams (crazy Quentin Tarantino-esque dreams) processing of emotions, and keeping my own counsel. Learning to listen to myself, my intuition. My inner voice (that has always been there and has always clamoured to be heard, but often ignored in favour of external voices - my own personal tall poppy syndrome I guess), is now proudly front and centre. She has been unleashed, unmasked, un-muzzled - and she’s got a lot to say.

I’ve started celebrating my small victories alone. To myself, with myself, by myself. I’ve discovered that I derive genuine pleasure from these ‘celebrations of self’. As a result I’m learning to trust myself more, and seek approval and reassurance from others far less. I’m enjoying my own evolving bad-assery.

Many of those who know me well, would baulk at the prospect of labeling me ‘unconfident’, but confidence isn’t always about being happy to be the centre of attention, or the first to speak up. It’s also about backing yourself, seeing your own worth, fighting for what you deserve and standing up for what you believe in - and on those benchmarks - I have often fallen short.

But I’m delighted to say there has been a seismic shift in these areas of late. A few friends in the past two weeks have even boldly declared ‘She’s back!’, and I’m inclined to agree. Will I wobble? Will I have moments (or even days) when this Phoenix Rising feels her tail feathers getting scorched by an inevitable dip in mood, motivation or mojo? Inevitably. I’m human after all. But for now, as we hurtle into holiday mode - I am at last smiling - not just on the outside, but on the inside too.