Another Surrender (Letting Love In... Again)

If yesterday’s ramble on finding balance in creative work wasn’t enough for you, I have more for you today- with an unexpected twist! Isn’t it amazing how drastically focus can shift? How quickly change can happen? Yesterday I wrote about how rushed I was feeling. I felt pushed into decisions and changes I didn’t want to make yet… but what I realized when I finally gave myself a moment to sit with it was this:

In The End-Stages Of Putting Something I’ve Created Into The World, I Get Scared.
I Want To Run, Close Myself Off To The World, And Shut Out Love.

I’m learning about surrender all over again as I walk away from the creation of Raped, Not Ruined and release this book into the world.

Pondering my habits…

I’m looking at my writing process, curious if this is a pattern for me or if I’m in a new place with myself today. When I wrote Embrace Yourself, it was scary to actually give myself the opportunity to shine and share something I made, but it wasn’t this hard. Writing Raped, Not Ruined felt like drowning, being on fire, and walking on glass all at once. Publishing it feels like standing naked on stage.

When I published Embrace Yourself, I was proud of myself for taking the leap. I had a playful sort of love for the little book, but I wasn’t all that proud of it. It wasn’t the artful kind of story I wanted to share with the world. It didn’t have the depth or the creativity that my shorter stories have or the courage my blog posts had, but it was designed to help people and I know it has. I’ve decided to let that be enough.

With Raped, Not Ruined, though, I feel entirely different. I am so proud of this book. I know that I will grow as a writer and my next ones will be even better, but I am so incredibly proud of the heart and courage and kindness I poured into the healing. I’m proud of myself for making the decision to share this and for the impact I know it will have- even if it’s only on one single person (though I have a feeling it’s going to ripple much further)…

In Publishing My First Two Books, I’ve Gone From This Insecure And Unreliable Little Girl To A Woman Who Knows Herself And Follows Through On What She Intends To Do.

I’ve learned the importance of community and the power of really valuing and loving each person in front of me for all that they are, exactly as they are in the moment. My third book isn’t published yet, but I’m looking forward to recreating it for you in the coming months. It is such a relief to shake off the creation of Raped, Not Ruined and to walk away from it with a sense of peace and gratitude.

Anyway, back to surrender…

These past few days, I knew I was very close to finishing the final edits and being ready to give this book to the world. The torn feeling I had was at its peak, ready to crumble into whatever comes next. There are intimate details in the story that I’ve been grappling with sharing for weeks, details that have the potential to hurt people I love… but that the story would be incomplete without. I knew all along that I was writing this book to share the healing with other survivors- so there really wasn’t much question of whether or not I’d include the full story... it was more a matter of coming to terms with the fact that I have the right to tell it.

I needed to share the full truth, I needed to be selfless with this precious part of my life in order to do what I set out to do with this creation. What I was really struggling with was the timing. My deepest fear in life is to hurt others. Intentionally or not, and in December that fear screamed at me louder than it ever has. The only time it stopped was… when I surrendered. When I let the love in.

Dear friends and family, you in my community, and even my own soul were all coming together with this overwhelming outpouring of love and support (thank you, thank you, thank you), and sometimes I didn’t know how to receive it. It was terrifying to allow it to flow in, because then I just might be afraid of losing it. What if you read the book and it wasn’t worth the wait? What if you read it and hate me for loving someone who has hurt me? Or judge me for sharing things that many would say should never leave the bedroom? What if, what if, what if.

Fear is tricky, isn’t it? But I realized that kind of worry was a tragic abuse of the power behind “what if?” I love that question, and I was ruining it by making it a tool for worry rather than curiosity. I did not write this book- or anything else- for the sake of being loved by others. I didn’t spend these years healing, loving myself, coming to know who I am, and growing in my spirituality and understanding of mindful, loving kindness just to give it all up for the sake of being liked.

This Week, In The Silence Of Surrender, I Lifted My Eyes And Felt A Curtain Lift In My Soul.

I mean I literally felt it. I saw this thick black curtain open up and light poured into a place that I’d never surrendered before.

I let my guard down in a completely unexpected way- and it was incredible! I will never forget that moment. Since it happened I’ve slept more deeply, I’ve woken up with a joyful heart. I finished the book and felt the relief wash over me.

I knew this book was the end of a chapter in my life,
but I didn’t realize how significant the chapter was.

I thought this was the end of feeling trapped under the weight of a secret I didn’t know how to tell, or maybe the end of bitterness or feeling like I needed to hold onto some victim label… but it was more than that. Deeper. I’ve devoted an entire decade of my life to embracing, loving, and understanding my sadness. I’ve treasured and nurtured sadness, allowing it to flow through me and be free after keeping it all bottled up throughout my childhood. I thought I was experiencing an entirely different feeling than what most people know “sad” to be, but I understand now that it’s the same feeling. It’s just that I know sadness very intimately, while others barely give it the time of day. They think it is bad or tragic, but only because they haven’t taken the time to know the depths of the waters of sadness. There is beauty, strength, love, and power in there. It’s not a place to live forever, but when it’s time to visit, I know to be fully present in my visit and let it work its magic on me.

I’ve learned to open my heart to sadness, without attachment or judgment or fear. And now, the chapter of sadness is coming to a close. I can see how I’ve come to love this part of being human, and it’s actually hard to let go. I don’t want it to be final, and I was resisting for so long before it finally hit me that this isn’t the last time I will ever spend time in sadness. It’s safe to let go and explore a new chapter. Sadness is a part of being human, and it will come again. Emotions are not meant to be lived in or clung to, they are meant to be felt- to move. Motion is in the word.

I’m opening up a new chapter now, one where I learn to love, honor, face, and allow joy into all the places I’ve never allowed it to take hold. I want to understand the edges of life- now that I know sadness, it’s time to explore joy. Somehow, opening my heart to joy feels vulnerable too. It’s exhilarating to think about, but I still have the urge to run and hide myself away under a pile of fuzzy blankets and 10,000 cups of chai tea.

It’s time for me to learn to stand in the sunlight and have the courage to see goodness and peace. In this new chapter, I’m learning to let joy wash over me without attachment or judgment or mistrust. No more waiting for the other shoe to drop. My faith in serendipity has always been strongest when things were difficult and I had no other choice but to believe in something bigger than myself.

It might be messy while I find my balance, but I’m leaning in.

The curtain is open. I am ready.