Difficult Transitions
I haven’t posted in a while. My time has been consumed by working on the sequel to Follow Me, Friend, dotted by walks with my dog Boedy and time spent with my sweet Farletta. I’ve been blessed by time in recent months having left my regular job which consumed too much of my inner light, in favor of cobbling together an existence from various temporary sources of income, supplemented by my savings and the sale of personal items and copies of my memoir.
I planned this time for a career transition but it became about evolving into a person that felt like she belonged in her own skin, did work that feeds her soul, and was capable of truly loving herself. This last part, the idea of self-love, for decades was a foreign concept I simply couldn’t grasp. It seemed synonymous with selfishness and conceit and therefore not only something I couldn’t understand but also something I feared would make me a bad, and unlikable person.
I’ve done a lot of work on myself and have far to go. Learning is a journey that should not have a finite destination for when learning stops, so does growth. The journey is peppered by difficult transitions, sometimes these transitions block our growth if we are unable to move through them. They make you look at yourself and your world from uncomfortable angles. Sometimes a transition sends you into a tailspin, feeling out of control and full of anguish, making it difficult to get your feet under you and find your bearings once again.
Quite unexpectedly, I find myself in one such transition–a difficult loss of a friend whose life was so closely intertwined with my own, that I found myself wondering who I am without her.
Of all the things I thought this time of transition would bring, I never thought it would include losing Farletta. The moment she slipped her earthly bounds felt like a piece of me was ripped away, a physical tearing of the fibers that held us together–I didn’t know how to be without her. I still don’t. But I am learning.
It has been just over a week, and the numbness is lifting, slowly letting in the full weight of they physical loss of my friend. But at the same time, I know she is giving me room to grow, to step more fully into myself, to know who I am without her by my side.
As I move forward without the physical presence of Farletta in my life, I am doing so with an open heart. Farletta taught me so much about myself, about the importance of being and staying present, and a lesson I never expected–one of self-love. I strive to approach life with an open heart and a curiosity for the world and the lessons within it. Farletta is still a part of this journey. While I feel the loss of her physical presence, I know her spirit will never leave me and we will continue to move forward together in this new way of being.
In future blog posts I will be sharing Farletta’s story beyond what was written in Follow Me, Friend, and sharing the lessons I’ve learned through our sixteen years together, and whatever lies ahead. Please join me. Peace.
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