the sting of abandonment is palpable. it’s hard for me to even read the word, some days. or, even harder, to read my to do list without feeling the sucker punch of abandonment in my gut. it’s too much for one person to hold, at times. I’ve felt/been (is there a difference?) abandoned. I’ve tasted those stone hard tears. Ive had a husband who left me for another. I’ve stood in line to be chosen without any success.
I wish I could say I haven’t been one to do any abandoning. Verb (2): to give up; discontinue; withdraw from.
there have been goals, experiments, challenges, probably promises or commitments, projects, dreams (sigh)…even a few instances of morality where I have missed the mark. I didn’t come through. I discontinued, gave up, withdrew.
so far, in all my years of this being human gig; the most regrettable abandonment has been that of my own true, tired, trying heart. the wild intuition. the suffered longing. the passionate response. the curious mind. the depth of soul. the questions and the knowing. to abandon my own wrecked, seeking blood has been the greatest grief of all.
at times I feel at a loss; how to pursue my own heart without abandoning responsibility. how to attend my nest without abandoning my hungry spirit. how to show up for myself and my three and all the entanglement of what that really, deeply, tangibly MEANS without something (important) being abandoned.
more than anything…I don’t want to leave anything wanting on this earth. me. or them. or the truth longing to be found.
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