breakups and black tuesday

After four years I’m still trying to navigate the waters of rejection that rose after a breakup I didn’t see coming; still in pain over something I felt so securely invested in and still wondering why it happened. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve healed quite a bit. I’m not sitting around with my thumb up my a** … I mean … in my mouth … pouting. That part has eased off … mostly. And, honestly, the intuitive me is so very grateful to him (and my yoga practice) for throwing me into the deep end of the pool and being the catalyst for this latest spurt of spiritual growth.

During these years I’ve developed a deeper curiosity about myself as seen through the lens of relationship. I’ve been reading the books, participating in workshops, journalling until my fingers turn blue, listening to enlightening webinars and, through the work of wonderful guides, have spent quality time looking inside for clues to unravelling my knotty “patterns” of being. Ironing my wrinkled “love imprint.” Nursing my “core wounds.” Rolling in the mud looking around for the lotus. Weeding my overgrown garden. Hmmm … maybe a little medicinal “weed” would’ve helped. 😉

On occasion, though, I wonder why it’s taking so farkin long to completely disconnect from the unrealistically hopeful longing for a renewed “us.” After all, I’m not a kid anymore. HE walked away. HE didn’t want that “us” anymore. At first it seemed a little muddy but now, when I’m in my “right” mind, and after all this time, it’s very clear that hope has no place in this picture. The adult me recognizes and can even list all the hunches she had that it might eventually end. But, would also argue, what relationship is smooth? Isn’t a relationship about teamwork in the inevitable tough times and the beauty of subsequent growth together? Isn’t this just a tough time? Well … Leaning in to the tough times together was never on the table. So … Game over. Right? Nope. For me it’s lingering doubt, hope and confusion. So, what the heck? What’s this attachment; this long term internal nagging about?

The deeper psychology of the attachment could be a story for another day … or maybe not. Ever. But this week, in the shower as usual, an odd but interesting little idea of an answer floated up into the snowglobe. It was during one of those “you can’t tell the tears from the shower droplets” moments when my inner comedian raised an eyebrow and yelled, “THIS MUST BE WHAT IT FELT LIKE AFTER BLACK TUESDAY … THE STOCK MARKET CRASH OF 1929!” What?!?! I mean …. WHAT?!?!?!? The thought poked fingers in my tear ducts and made me laugh for a moment (oh the brilliance of humor and the intuitive will to get out of one’s own way). I got it. And the idea was worth exploring to see where it would lead.

So Black Tuesday actually showed up as telephone call on a Black Friday … having NOTHING to do with Christmas. Essentially, in that call he crashed the relationship. Everything that had been freely and optimistically invested in our world and its future, my exclusive heart, mind and spirit, was suddenly lost. The ensuing “Great Depression” left me feeling mentally and emotionally bankrupt and vulnerable in the love department but hanging on tenaciously to crumbs of hope for reconcillation. Recovery from loss takes time. Sometimes it takes more time than we think. But this isn’t death and it can’t take ten years like the actual Great Depression, can it? So how much time is enough time for sudden breakup recovery? (Hint: the answers are all inside of us, just ask your inner comedian)

In his book, “The Cause and Consequences of the Great Depression, Part 1: What Made the Roaring ’20s Roar,” Richard M. Salsman states, “Anyone who bought stocks in mid-1929 and held onto them saw most of his or her adult life pass by before getting back to even.” YIKES! “Most of his or her adult life???” Finding that quote was an eye opener! If it took that long to rebuild a stock portfolio, would it take that long to renew and recover our fragile emotional/spiritual portfolio? NO … (“as god is my witness”)it will NOT take most of my adult life … or what’s left of it. It just CAN’T. Truth be told, the currency of our hearts, minds and spirits is self renewing; deeper, richer, stronger, more malleable and more abundant than our money. Our precious portfolio is ours to steward and not at the mercy of economic indicators. We, alone, decide how full or how empty; how tender or how armored; how open or how constricted it is. We, alone, decide when enough time is enough time.

If I’m willing to say so, and given everything I’ve experienced on this journey so far, my precious portfolio is full enough, rich enough and strong enough to be reinvested right now.

The trickiest part, as I see it in this moment, is moving through the pervasive fear of another Black Tuesday. There are no guarantees that it won’t happen again. I have to find a way to trust that I’m not in the same place I was four years ago. I’ve grown. This time I’m intuitive enough to reinvest *wisely* AND resilient enough to land on my feet if necessary.

peace ❤

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