Today’s prompt: Today, I’d like you to craft a blessing for the others in this space. Knowing what you know about loss and about love, what blessing would you give to the others in this group? What do you wish for others who enter this path of pain behind you? Reflect on this for a moment, but don’t overthink it. When you are ready, write your own blessing for your companions in this broken-heart space. What do you wish for, knowing that the pain itself cannot be fixed?
Be kind to yourself. Don’t be afraid of yourself or your pain. It is yours. I know it’s terrifying. I know, and I am so sorry. There’s just no way around it.
This pain, this agony, will wash over you like waves. You will gasp for breath, but you will not drown. I know–it feels like you will. You’ll take on water, but you will not drown. In this ocean, we scream. We cry out. We tremble in silence. We pound the water with our fists. Our tears made this ocean.
You do not have to apologize for being afraid to swim; everyone swimming in this ocean knows your fear. Some have known it for decades, others only minutes. This water is the roughest you’ve ever faced. It’s impossible to stand, feet down, body steady, for more than a moment. The waves are relentless.
For once, don’t try to save anyone else. For now, keep yourself afloat. The rest will come later. Much later. In this moment, do whatever you must to keep your head out of the water. This is not a selfish act; you must help yourself before you can help another. It may feel wrong, but you must.
When you are adrift in this ocean, being battered with your grief, you’ll see your friends and family on the shore. Some are holding life preservers. They want to help, but most can’t throw that far. If a wave hurls you toward shore, you may be able to catch the life preserver. You will try. Your friends and family will try. You’ll never be completely dry again. There’s always another wave to wash you back out to sea.
When the waves are just too much and the ocean threatens to win, look for the other swimmers–those who have managed to stay afloat for a while. They will help you. If you go under, they will pull you up and help you ride out the storm. They know the ways of this ocean. They have learned to navigate these waters. You need those people. You may not even know them, but you need them. Those swimmers will become your lifelines. Let them help you.
Wherever you are in this ocean–waves brushing your ankles or a riptide threatening to take you under–you are not alone. You will not drown. You may come close, but you will not drown.
Woods Writes 