I spend every Thursday morning here, in this room. With candles lit, mediation music on, Wild Orange essential oil wafting through the air, and a view of the pond and nature out the window.
It’s ironic how dramatically different my Thursday mornings are from just a few short years ago.
In 2013, I dreaded this day. It was early in my divorce and my children were with their father on Wednesday nights. This meant that I awoke each Thursday to an empty house. My babies were elsewhere and for the first time in two decades I felt I had no purpose. Deep in my sticky dark I sat, beating myself up for every failure imaginable. For not sticking it out with their father, for not being there when they woke up, for causing the two home shuffle that they didn’t ask for, for not being enough, and more. So much more.
Wednesday nights I would come home, pull in the garage, and have to convince myself to turn the car off. I felt there was no way out. Like I was staring at a brick wall on all sides, no light, no end, no solution. The pain was crushing, it was difficult to find the oxygen in the air. The only way I felt I could fix the situation, allow my children a stable household and escape the gaping hole in my heart was to go away. Permanently.
I had already researched taking my children out of the country, I had gone through what felt like a lifetime of counseling, I had tried everything in my toolbox to fix the problem and came up empty handed.
This bottom I reached is another story for another day. Just know I was desperate, broken, and hanging on by a thread.
So I would shut the car off and go inside. Sleep would cease the pain temporarily, and when the sun rose I would have a few brief seconds of relief before I would realize my babies weren’t there.
I would rise, get dressed, put my headphones in, volume on max, and begin to walk. I walked miles and miles and miles back then. Getting lost in the woods, listening to my playlist I created to keep me going…everything from “I will survive” to “Fuck You”. For hours I would breathe in nature, push my body, sweat, cry, and beg the universe for a sign – anything to know an end to this purgatory was coming.
Days turned into weeks, weeks to months, months to years…I did only what I knew how to do, keep going. The progress was slow, like the transition from winter to summer, I never really noticed that the days were longer and the sun shined brighter. Until now.
It’s 4 years later and I look around. There is no snow on the ground. The trees are full of leaves and the birds sing. I take a deep breath and am filled with gratitude for all that I have. For my babies, their relationship with their father, my new marriage, my step children, the peace in my heart, my business – for life itself.
I didn’t notice the subtle changes. It was like it happened so slowly it wasn’t even detectable, and yet here I am – a million miles from where I was.
I host reiki sessions now on Thursdays. I fill myself up with energy from the universe and allow it to flow through me, sharing it with other people. Most come in looking for the peace I walked in search of years ago. I recognize the look in their eyes, their gaze clouded by their troubles. I listen to their stories and offer them a safe harbor for the next hour. I center myself, asking the powers that be to provide them with what they need. I open my heart and soul, allowing my new found strength to serve as a platform for them to rest on. I feel a strong sense of responsibility to help, to hold their hands and give them a life raft for their choppy seas. I instruct them to breathe and let go, as I do the same.
This is my new Thursday morning ritual. One filled with love, people, energy, and gratitude.
Life is about the journey, the movement, the flow. Whatever you are experiencing right now is just that, right now. Recognize it, love it for what it is, and keep going. Always keep going.
Because after every Thursday is a Friday.