[2021-04-17] Heartache
At any moment, we may be overwhelmed by heartache, whether we're experiencing it directly or vicariously. It could stem from illness, fatigue associated with the pandemic, grief over the death of a loved one, or loss of a relationship, income or cherished possession.
One of the lessons I have learned in the past eight months—and expressed in Sitting with negativity—is that heartache cannot and should not be ignored or wished away or masked with inspirational quotes telling us that happiness is a choice. It is to be acknowledged and felt and worked through—all of which take time.
Yesterday, I came across this quote from author Cheryl Strayed, and it appealed to me:
Nobody will protect you from your suffering. You can't cry it away or eat it away or starve it away or walk it away or punch it away or even therapy it away. It's just there, and you have to survive it. You have to endure it. You have to live through it and love it and move on and be better for it and run as far as you can in the direction of your best and happiest dreams across the bridge that was built by your own desire to heal.
Living through emotional pain must include working through it. Loving it means learning from the situation that caused us sorrow. Moving on from it holds out hope that we will one day heal and move beyond the pain.
Today, I browsed through past Jenesis posts to draw inspiration for those of us experiencing heartache.
You can't skip chapters, that's not how life works. You have to read every line, meet every character. You won't enjoy all of it. Hell, some chapters will make you cry for weeks. You will read things you don't want to read, you will have moments when you don't want the pages to end. But you have to keep going. Stories keep the world revolving. Live yours, don't miss out.
I took comfort, once again, in the words of Albert Camus, as shared in Invincible love:
My dear,
In the midst of hate, I found there was, within me, an invincible love.
In the midst of tears, I found there was, within me, an invincible smile.
In the midst of chaos, I found there was, within me, an invincible calm.
I realized, through it all, that…
In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer.
And that makes me happy. For it says that no matter how hard the world pushes against me, within me, there’s something stronger—something better, pushing right back.
I especially like "In the midst of tears, I found there was, within me, an invincible smile." May that line provide solace to anyone who is crying.
In my post The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse, I shared many quotes from the book of the same name about kindness, love, facing challenges, and making a difference. For the heartbroken, I reshare this one:
"What do we do when our hearts hurt?" asked the boy.
"We wrap them with friendship, shared tears and time, till they wake hopeful and happy again."
In The sun always peeks through, I cited a passage from A Year of Positive Thinking, a book that I've quoted many times:
The rain will come and so will the rainbows. Trust that no matter the storm, you can weather it. And know that no matter how bad a situation may seem, the sun will always find its way through.
The key message in this statement is to trust ourselves. When we're in the midst of a storm, it's so easy to think that we've never weathered a storm quite like this one. Sometimes that's true, but oftentimes we have experienced past heartbreaks that were even more difficult—and yet we survived.
I will probably never forget where I was in my cancer journey when I listened to Helen Reddy's "I Am Woman." I was receiving my third chemotherapy treatment (Chemo #3 and 100th post) and watching her biopic. I cried then and still cry whenever I hear these words:
Oh yes, I am wise
But it's wisdom born of pain
Yes, I've paid the price
But look how much I gained
If I have to, I can do anything
I am strong
(Strong)
I am invincible
(Invincible)
I am woman
To all my sisters who are going through a tough time, may these words remind you of your inherent strength.
I had forgotten researcher Lucy Hone's advice for dealing with pain. As reflected in Secrets of resilient people, Hone recommends that you ask yourself: "Is what I'm doing helping or harming me?" Hone shares the example of looking at pictures of her deceased daughter late into the evening. When she asked herself "Is what I'm doing helping or harming me?" she concluded that it wasn't helping. She then told herself: "put away the photos, go to bed for the night, be kind to yourself."
This year, I learned about Kintsukuroi, the Japanese tradition of repairing a ceramic piece using liquid gold or gold-dusted lacquer. This makes the breaks more obvious and every crack a part of the ceramic piece's history. As explained in A Year of Positive Thinking, Kintsukuroi reminds us:
You will fail.
You will fail.
You will break.
You will stand up and dust yourself off.
You will repair yourself again and again.
And eventually, though you will be different than before, you will again become whole.
You will be even more beautiful precisely because of all of this.
You will be a better person because of your imperfections, not in spite of them.
Despite our heartache, we will become whole again.
I echoed this sentiment in It does get better, once again quoting A Year of Positive Thinking:
You will experience moments when you feel like the world is against you, when nothing seems to work, when it feels like everything that can go wrong has.
There are some circumstances that can't be fixed or made better immediately. There will be times when your world does not feel okay.
As best as possible, you must sit and honor this truth.
In those moments, allow yourself to cry, shout, or be upset. Feel what you feel. But then surrender into what is.
I can't say when or how, but time, surrender, and healing will allow you to find solace.
It does get better. Know this.
My post Wintering, based on Katherine May's book Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times, aptly describes those moments in life when we are lost:
Wintering is a season in the cold. It is a fallow period in life when you're cut off from the world, feeling rejected, sidelined, blocked from progress, or cast into the role of an outsider. Perhaps it results from an illness or a life event such as a bereavement or the birth of a child; perhaps it comes from a humiliation or failure. Perhaps you're in a period of transition and have temporarily fallen between two worlds. Some winterings creep upon us more slowly, accompanying the protracted death of a relationship, the gradual ratcheting up of caring responsibilities as our parents age, the drip-drip-drip of lost confidence. Some are appallingly sudden, like discovering one day that your skills are considered obsolete, the company you work for has gone bankrupt, or your partner is in love with someone new. However it arrives, wintering is usually involuntary, lonely, and deeply painful.
Dark winters are inevitable, writes May. There is comfort in reminding ourselves of this reality.
What if you fly? is one of my favourite posts. In moments when we feel consumed by self-doubt and uncertain about our direction, Erin Hanson's poem may provide a glimmer of hope:
There is freedom waiting for you,
On the breezes of the sky,
And you ask "What if I fall?"
Oh, but my darling,
What if you fly?
When we're feeling down-trodden, it is difficult to believe that we will stand again, let alone fly. But fly we will. For me, Hanson's poem is not simply about imagining a better tomorrow; it's about believing in a future that is more than we ever dreamed of—or at least more than we are capable of envisioning in the midst of heartache.
