How often do we meet again?
In the deep end of love loss and liminal space
First some words from the ‘she writes’ vault
How often do we meet again?
To get to know one another with the kind of openness and intention that allows us to witness the other in the depths of their true self.
With no expectation for anyone to remain the same from one moment to the next.
How often do we meet again, leaving behind the projections and expectations that have demanded a seat at the table?
How often do we meet again and not bring to that meeting the picture we had once painted of who we thought they were?
How often do we choose to leave behind the paint strokes full of expectations and assumptions that void us of the connection we say we’re so desperate to experience?
How often do we show up expectationless?
How often do we hold space for change?
How often to we allow ourselves to see the beauty in front of us without trying to morph it into something more convenient or comfortable?It’s likely rare in many cases.
So instead we spend our days putting on the same mask day in and day out, especially in spaces where we’ve been taught change and growth aren’t welcome or safe.
These masks all an attempt to secure our own sense of belonging.
There comes a point where you begin to realise that in some spaces love and acceptance have long expired, along with the shedding of who you once were
And you become ok with that.
You begin to believe in the beauty of shedding and change.
You begin to understand that the cost of living as anyone but your true self is too high, a robbery of your potential, a rip-off you refuse to accept.
And there in your willingness to open yourself up to the beauty that surrounds you each and every day - you find the connection, love and acceptance you’ve been looking for.
These words are ones I’ve pondered a lot recently…
They’ve taken on a new meaning since I first wrote them back in a moment of feeling perpetually unseen and confused about why it was so damn hard for them to see me as I was in that moment.
They now have layers, some closer to the surface like…
The assumption that because I said I liked white chocolate bunnies one Easter it meant that’s all I wanted for the years to follow - I didn’t.
All the moments of ‘but you said [insert something I said once that has now been scribed into stone never to change]’ - God forbid I change my mind.
Then we go a little deeper with…
Being told ‘you don’t look gay’ - as if to ‘be gay’ I had to look a certain way and that was the only defining marker of the validity of my sexuality.
The moment while in conversation with a friend about an element of our human design and how it plays out for us in IRL, I heard ‘That’s not you’ come from someone who ‘should’ know me enough to know it’s VERY me - We’re not talking about the version of me you’d prefer, we’re talking about my truth.
And then there’s what is likely to forever be the deepest of them all…
The uncertainty of how much longer my nan will recognise me before Alzheimer’s takes that away.
How many times will we have no choice but to meet again?
I won't pretend that doesn’t break my heart.
I won't pretend the part of me that thinks it's so incredibly cruel doesn't exist.
Just like I won’t ignore the gift of getting the chance to meet again, over and over in this life until our time is up.
It reminds me to be present with my relationship to self and ask ‘How often do I meet myself again?’
So too my relationship with others, ‘How often do I make space to meet those around me again?’
With no expectation for them or myself to remain the same from one moment to the next.
How many chances will we be gifted the opportunity to meet again?
How many of those chances will we take?
The fear of loss and the gift of love seem intertwined in the same breath…
Loss of the person you once knew
Love of a deeper connection available to you
If only we took a moment to redefine, loosen our grip on the ways it’s always been and remind ourselves of the beauty in change, we would allow ourselves to receive the level of connection we’re here to experience in this life, the kind of connection that swells well below the surface.
With love,
Chloe. x