Friday, February 19, 2016

How God has given me poetry to deal with heartbreak

It is Day #3.

In writing, I am able to lift up gathered and ungathered thoughts alike, mapping out order and chaos; structure and splats. In His presence, I can be both. In fact, I can be singular, plural, multiple and infinite. (This could also be because I find the need to assume different egos, and have a crippling inability to laugh at myself.) Yet, whatever thoughts I submit to Him, I know that they will always be 'enough' or 'more'— no less.

But something has been taken away from me. I am now left with less. And that is the difference between God and I. He can take away, and it hurts. But even in my 'lessness' or lack, He tells me I can choose to give/receive MORE, and it will always be enough for Him. My 'lessness' is restored when He reveals to me an understanding of WHY I have less in this season of life. And with that restoration comes peace, which transcends all understanding. Tonight, I realised that I have less because God wants me to give you more. In the leaving, I was loving you the hardest I have ever done. My lack is not closed off— it shows me that in order for my once-stagnant state of mind to grow, I must remain open.

To remain open means choosing to be honest, embracing curveballs that He throws my way, and learning how to deal with them. It means no longer worrying how a perfectly good relationship "turned this bad". Instead of focusing on the erosion and why or how it happened in the first place, I must keep my heart open so that healing can rush in. In the words of David Whyte, this is so I can "assume a larger identity than the person who was first hurt". Hello, Forgiveness.

With poetry, God trains me to pay attention to the details. But He also reminds me to look at the big picture. Without engaging with the two, openness and closeness cannot co-exist, and the poem would not be whole. By the way, I am thankful for you telling me when I lacked tact, even if agonizing over my choice of words has not solved anything.

Closeness, in this case, is 'open selfishness'. It means learning how to establish strong personal boundaries, realising that there is power in proximity. Establishing boundaries, particularly emotional boundaries, is something I have always struggled with. I fall in and out of 'love' easily because I ALLOW myself to trust too quickly. I ALLOW someone else (either a romantic interest or a friend) to trample all over my emotional boundaries, thinking that my warped perception of "loving well = being able to endure and tolerate bad behaviour" can save me. This happens frequently, and you'd think I would have been used to it by now. But no, it still shocks me.

And so it does not mean I need to play a 'role', because I am both weak and strong, and I need a partner who can accept both sides instead of entering a relationship with the lingering need to correct a power imbalance. When I can establish boundaries and learn to be 'openly selfish', I believe I will be able to remain WHOLE even as I am with the OTHER. Only then can both parties stop rearing their power-hungry heads to tear each other down.

Not being able to master the craft of establishing boundaries before I said 'yes' to you has also led to me adopting a fleeting mindset, whereby I subconsciously abuse my own feelings. I do not wish to blame or focus on you as the external factor, who has influenced me in such a way where I second guess my decisions and intentions every single day. There is no point, and I will be over-explaining myself all over again, which you hate. Then again, this piece isn't addressed to you and you alone, it's for anyone who still thinks I'm interesting enough. Instead, I'm going to focus on my internal thought process, which I need to hold to account should I want zero drama upon entering a new relationship in the future. Now back to the mindset.

This mindset I have adopted TRIVIALIZES my emotions felt at the time of hurt, no matter how intense, or how much it made me cry. Yes, trivializing one's feelings leads to a surefire way of forgetting, but it is NOT PROCESSING or DEALING WITH EMOTIONS properly. I forget how I felt almost immediately, and once again, I allow myself to accept unacceptable behaviour, which puts my happiness at stake. This mindset can also be closely linked to cyclical sin: "Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like someone who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like." (James 1:23-24)

God wants to cultivate an awareness in us, which we owe to Him, ourselves and others. And it follows in the order of this hierarchy: when we are aware and are ready to receive the love God has for us, we are able to love ourselves. In loving ourselves, we are equipped with the power to love others. In this case, I owe it to myself to do everything in my power to never find myself in a situation where I allow someone to step all over my emotional boundaries ever again. Emotional abuse is most often inflicted by an external party, but that doesn't mean I should choose to blame that person continually. But there is still a difference between intentional and non-intentional abuse.

With all this said, besides turning to prayer, friends and family in this time, writing poetry gives me great consolation. Poetry requires one to be accurate so that one may write in a relatable manner, encouraging intimacy with readers, writers and humans alike. This is me processing my feelings on a page. In doing so, it has given me the confidence to FEEL WHAT I FEEL. And this confidence is crucial, because when you stop engaging with your emotions, others can easily manipulate them, causing you to question if the decision you made was right or not. In writing my heartbreak, I aim to dedicate time to refining the lines emotional abuse has blurred.

But for now, I'm going to end my essay with this:
I love you, purely, and simply because I do.

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