Letting Go And Facing Forward • May 26, 2008
There are therapists and dating experts who teach those of us who are still entangled, bound, wrapped up in and held by a lover who is no longer a happy part of our lives, how to let go.
It is said that you can’t enter a new relationship while you’re still tied to the old. That you must release this person to leave room in your life and your heart for your true soulmate to come on in.
It’s a fact that our bodies and hearts get connected to those we love and have sex with. It’s chemical, and spiritual, and emotional, and it doesn’t just go away because we say goodbye. And it’s true that every time we have the same thought about that goodbye, we experience the same feeling we felt when it happened.
And yet, it’s romantic. Lost love is romantic. Pining is romantic. Yeats and Keats and Lord Byron are romantic. Singing about love isn’t as romantic as singing about the love that got away. Longing makes me feel alive. It taps into my imagination and takes me to a place of romance and lust and passion that this daily life of recycling, cleaning the kitchen, working and cuddling don’t even graze. And it taps into my pain. What is it about pain that feels so, well – romantic?
Many of us have pain and love hooked up in such a way that easy-going men don’t feel romantic to us. Nice men who don’t intend to hurt us feel like old shoes. The pointy, spindly ones that’ll kill our backs and crunch our toes are the shoes and the men we want. Even while we’re wearing running shoes, we’re dreaming of stilettos. And we fault men for thinking like this.
Letting go, to me, is a moment by moment act and triumph of courage. Not just letting go of a person, but of a state of mind, a thought of pain that leads to a feeling of pain that then feels so powerful, passionate, poetic and sexy that it trumps everything else around.
