It got quiet…

It finally got quiet.
Like the day after rain.
Now I can listen and understand.
There is nothing left to organize or clean or clear in my apartment.
The wine has run out.
The shelves at CVS will always be stocked and beautiful and there.
I can finally rest.
I can stop ironing my hair and spraying it in place. I can let it frizz and curl.
And let go.
of control.
And let be.
I go to the ocean and see it for the first time.
I finally understand why I love it so much.
It's just like me, always moving.
Rough and peaceful at the same time. Scary and soothing. A constant contradiction.
But, I don't have to run to it anymore. I can just be by it, next to it and watch. I can love it and be still inside and out.
I don't have to burn anymore. I can simmer slowly and be gentle.
With myself.
I can enjoy this time I have with myself. I'm a great date.
I can hug myself, love myself, treat myself with care better than anyone else. I can cry and most importantly I can laugh and make myself laugh. I quite often crack myself up. I can write and be alone and meet people with no agenda and talk with them at Starbucks, the library of today.
I can live free and stop judging and critiquing myself.
I can stop giving myself a hard time for not living up to this idea I have of what a yoga teacher should be or what a good person should be. I can stop rushing to finish first or be better or do more.
Everyone grieves for loss in different ways. I gave myself a slap for feeling, for asking for help, for being a part of a process I didn't understand but had to go through.
The staying up late, crying, venting, drinking, overindulging, listening to sad music.
It's a phase and like everything, I'll get through it. Worrying about when won't help.
Being alone is good, healthy. Being quiet is priceless.
Being is rewarding, healing.
But not being able to open the pickle jar, well, that still makes me a little sad.

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