Weekend post breakup with J’ was actually quite beautiful. With cuddles, gentleness, and love…of a friend who loves me.
As I lie in bed and think back to moments I shared with J’. I remember them so clearly. There was a certain kind of spirituality to those moments. The fulfillment in his eyes, the confidence with which he knew he was loved, the love he felt and freely gave me even if I was unshowered and scruffy and otherwise unattractive to another’s eye. His adoration and love in the way he held me, kissed me, and looked at me. I clearly remember the inner sensations, the peace, the strength, and the light I felt from him.
All that love, gave me so much courage. It healed emotional wounds, allowing me to become a more open loving person. It helped me become more at ease with my skin and what I had to offer the world. Surprisingly to me, it also gave courage of parts of me I denied. The intense yearning for control of my space, of people’s actions, of my environment and the fear all of this was based on. It all came charging out. And the fact that I didn’t censor these parts of myself, well that also came from love. My love. It was that love that allowed me to be vulnerable enough to fully feel and show him my anger, my yearnings, my insecurities, but mostly my vulnerabilities. Perhaps that is what great love does, it shows you who you really are. And perhaps the reason we really want it is the magical healing it brings.
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