The Mystic Dreamer Tarot
I've asked for any questions you have about love and relationships, and I'll be answering them here and during the live event on the 25th. So far, all of the questions I've received have been heart felt and thought provoking, and I've noticed the emergence of a theme:
"You've been in a bad/abusive relationship before. How did you heal and change so that you would not attract that again? Did you believe you could?"
"How do you learn to let go of old hurts and truly work through the pain of an old relationship?"
"I would like to know more about overcoming dysfunctional toxic relationships and abuse issues, how to work out and resolve the karmic ones and move on to more nurturing, healthy, compatible, loving ones."
"How do you learn to let go of old hurts and truly work through the pain of an old relationship?"
"I would like to know more about overcoming dysfunctional toxic relationships and abuse issues, how to work out and resolve the karmic ones and move on to more nurturing, healthy, compatible, loving ones."
I've been meditating on this and I realized that the first step for me in healing a toxic relationship was realizing that I was in one.
Because I sought out and perpetuated the relationship I was in, because I held on to it, fought for it, carefully hid it from the outside world; because I cultivated it and was an equal participant in it, I truly didn't understand it, or see it. I kept it and its disease a secret, so for much of the time that it went on, I had no one to reflect it back to me. I knew only that I was miserable, but I didn't truly understand why.
Two things enlightened me: The love of a true friend (who, when I finally confided in her about the reality of my relationship, held me accountable until I extricated myself from it) and the recovery of my voice, which had been buried.
But it took me a long time--years--to be able to call that relationship what it was, to own it, to understand that it was all right for me to say that I was treated in a way that was unacceptable, that I hadn't deserved it or brought in on myself.
I believe that somewhere, deep within myself, I did know I could heal -- but first I had to identify the wound. And it took a while. In fact, I recently found shards and pieces of it in my consciousness, impacting my relationship with Tracy and even platonic relationships with other men. I could write a whole post (or maybe even a small book) about the emotional baggage we all drag around with us, and how much better we feel when we learn to put it down.
Because I sought out and perpetuated the relationship I was in, because I held on to it, fought for it, carefully hid it from the outside world; because I cultivated it and was an equal participant in it, I truly didn't understand it, or see it. I kept it and its disease a secret, so for much of the time that it went on, I had no one to reflect it back to me. I knew only that I was miserable, but I didn't truly understand why.
Two things enlightened me: The love of a true friend (who, when I finally confided in her about the reality of my relationship, held me accountable until I extricated myself from it) and the recovery of my voice, which had been buried.
But it took me a long time--years--to be able to call that relationship what it was, to own it, to understand that it was all right for me to say that I was treated in a way that was unacceptable, that I hadn't deserved it or brought in on myself.
I believe that somewhere, deep within myself, I did know I could heal -- but first I had to identify the wound. And it took a while. In fact, I recently found shards and pieces of it in my consciousness, impacting my relationship with Tracy and even platonic relationships with other men. I could write a whole post (or maybe even a small book) about the emotional baggage we all drag around with us, and how much better we feel when we learn to put it down.
So the first step, for me, was unearthing and honoring my voice. I had to remember who I was and remember how to honor that. I practiced asserting myself, speaking my peace, naming things, standing up for myself. This meant unraveling threads that went all the way back to childhood and unlearning early programming.
And I had to express my truth - my version of the story of the relationship. Two people will never tell the same version of a story. I don't assume that my version is the only version, but it is mine. Before I could get into the better feeling, spiritually loving place with what happened, I had to allow myself to express my anger, my resentment, my pain. I had to be honest, not only about my feelings about this other person, but (primarily) about my feelings about myself. I journaled. I prayed. I talked. I had to learn how to be honest about what had happened, what I'd done, how I felt about it, and what I still felt.
And I had to grieve. Because even in believing and understanding that all things happen for a reason, and all relationships teachers, I found within myself a profound sense of loss. I'd spent a decade of my life in a situation that was opposed to my integrity. I had lost something - a potential. I was sorrowful about that.
When I was ready, came forgiveness. Forgiveness for him. Forgiveness for myself. Forgiveness for those odd misguided choices we make in life, the precious things we throw away, the wrong turns. It was not instant and it wasn't easy, but forgiveness was the key that allowed my heart to stretch open. And through my heart, my open heart, I could experience the all-loving, all-merciful, all-powerful love of the universe.
It was the devotion to my spiritual path that drenched me in love, that brought me into the space where I could feel love, feel that I was loved.
And I had to express my truth - my version of the story of the relationship. Two people will never tell the same version of a story. I don't assume that my version is the only version, but it is mine. Before I could get into the better feeling, spiritually loving place with what happened, I had to allow myself to express my anger, my resentment, my pain. I had to be honest, not only about my feelings about this other person, but (primarily) about my feelings about myself. I journaled. I prayed. I talked. I had to learn how to be honest about what had happened, what I'd done, how I felt about it, and what I still felt.
And I had to grieve. Because even in believing and understanding that all things happen for a reason, and all relationships teachers, I found within myself a profound sense of loss. I'd spent a decade of my life in a situation that was opposed to my integrity. I had lost something - a potential. I was sorrowful about that.
When I was ready, came forgiveness. Forgiveness for him. Forgiveness for myself. Forgiveness for those odd misguided choices we make in life, the precious things we throw away, the wrong turns. It was not instant and it wasn't easy, but forgiveness was the key that allowed my heart to stretch open. And through my heart, my open heart, I could experience the all-loving, all-merciful, all-powerful love of the universe.
It was the devotion to my spiritual path that drenched me in love, that brought me into the space where I could feel love, feel that I was loved.
A few months ago (yep, only a few months ago), I realized that something was wrong. My throat chakra was shut down and I had a low flash point for anger. I was upset, not right. I didn't know what was going on. What could there possibly be that I needed to say, needed to work through?
I opened myself to the answer. I took it into meditation and prayer. Suddenly, an image appeared before me. Without knowing beforehand that I was going to speak, I spoke a name. The name from the past. That relationship had ended twelve years earlier. I had processed it, I had forgiven, yet here it was, lodged in my throat.
I could feel it in my body--sticky, corded, bruised. I could feel that deep in my body, I hadn't go.
I realized that I still had things to say -- mean things, angry things -- dark little pockets of emotion that I'd squashed down and ignored because they were so ugly, because I didn't want to own them. These things now were eating at me.
I talked to my friend. I told her everything. And when she asked, "What is it you still need to say?" I answered, "I don't know," which was the truth, but I could feel it rising.
I opened myself to the answer. I took it into meditation and prayer. Suddenly, an image appeared before me. Without knowing beforehand that I was going to speak, I spoke a name. The name from the past. That relationship had ended twelve years earlier. I had processed it, I had forgiven, yet here it was, lodged in my throat.
I could feel it in my body--sticky, corded, bruised. I could feel that deep in my body, I hadn't go.
I realized that I still had things to say -- mean things, angry things -- dark little pockets of emotion that I'd squashed down and ignored because they were so ugly, because I didn't want to own them. These things now were eating at me.
I talked to my friend. I told her everything. And when she asked, "What is it you still need to say?" I answered, "I don't know," which was the truth, but I could feel it rising.
I realized that I had never fully shared my past with Tracy. He know about it, he even knew the other person in question, but I'd only spoken to him about the relationship in vague terms. For a reason I still don't completely understand, it was important to me that I tell him my story, that I share with him things that were said and things that happened and how all of it had impacted me.
It was the ancient past, and I was living a reality so very different from that one, but I needed to share it -- so I did.
Sometimes you need to say, "Wow, that sucked," and have your ally say, "Yeah. I'm sorry that happened."
Tracy was also able to show me how those little pieces of the past still lodged in my psyche were impacting our relationship, and that was what was truly important, healing, and beautiful thing. Because in that moment, they lost all of their power.
It was the ancient past, and I was living a reality so very different from that one, but I needed to share it -- so I did.
Sometimes you need to say, "Wow, that sucked," and have your ally say, "Yeah. I'm sorry that happened."
Tracy was also able to show me how those little pieces of the past still lodged in my psyche were impacting our relationship, and that was what was truly important, healing, and beautiful thing. Because in that moment, they lost all of their power.
And when all necessary words had been spoken, I knew it was time for me to shift my energy. I knew it was time for something bigger than just letting go. The word that came to me was recapitulation.
Recapitulation is a shamanic technique. Deborah King outlines it in her book Be Your Own Shaman, if you'd like to know more, but basically, it is a technique for retrieving and healing energy. During a recap, you pull back to yourself energy that has been lost to others and refill the well of your own resources.
Recapitulation around this relationship was intense, but necessary, and it freed me.
Recapitulation is a shamanic technique. Deborah King outlines it in her book Be Your Own Shaman, if you'd like to know more, but basically, it is a technique for retrieving and healing energy. During a recap, you pull back to yourself energy that has been lost to others and refill the well of your own resources.
Recapitulation around this relationship was intense, but necessary, and it freed me.
And when it comes down to it, that's what we're talking about here: Freedom. The freedom to love and be loved. Freedom from the past.
No one -- no person, no force, no memory has power over you -- through Love, you can reclaim the power you've given away. You can be washed clean. You can build a shield of light around yourself. You can feel your heart hum with the warmth of Divine truth.
This, with one hundred percent of my self, I believe. You are not the past. You are not the story. You are a being of light, reinvented in each moment and loved with such a radiant intensity, the heavens sing your name.
No one -- no person, no force, no memory has power over you -- through Love, you can reclaim the power you've given away. You can be washed clean. You can build a shield of light around yourself. You can feel your heart hum with the warmth of Divine truth.
This, with one hundred percent of my self, I believe. You are not the past. You are not the story. You are a being of light, reinvented in each moment and loved with such a radiant intensity, the heavens sing your name.
My name is Lori-Lyn, and I believe in Love. If you liked this post, consider subscribing, joining me on my facebook page, or signing up for the monthly love letter. And please share this post (or anything else here that resonates with you) to be entered in the giveaway that's less than a week away! Do you have any questions for me?
