Friday I found out that my ex-boyfriend is in a new relationship. This knowledge cut me to the core. A friend encouraged me to dig deep on why the knowledge that my ex is now in a relationship stings so much. The deeper I dove, the more I discovered how little it actually had to do with my ex and how much it had to do with me.
Truth be told: it's actually not my ex-boyfriend’s new relationship, it's the sting of rejection. My 21-year marriage ended over the fact that my ex-husband blamed me for my infertility, so I felt rejected by him because I have endometriosis and couldn’t bear him a child. When I met my ex-boyfriend, he was so awesome about making me feel whole and beautiful. There were other issues in that relationship, but my infertility was never one of them. But for some reason the knowledge that he is in a new relationship made me feel rejected once again. It brought up all of my insecurities around the fear that no one will want me because I can't have kids. I thought I had gotten over this – thought I had done all the healing I needed to do; apparently I have not. And I think it centers around this: it wasn't the rejection of me by my exes, it was the rejection of me by myself. So the sting I'm feeling is that I'm still rejecting myself because I don't feel like I am ‘enough'.
The irony is that the day I found out he was in a new relationship was the day after the launch of my new group program Perfect As You Are flopped big time. After 2 months of building and promoting this program, no one enrolled. Now I understand why: I can’t sell a program I don’t buy into myself. I truly thought I did. It’s not like I was leading everyone on. I have healed and am generally incredibly happy with who I am – just as I am. I do believe I am perfectly imperfect and I love me just as I am, or at least I thought I did…
After Friday blew up in my face, I decided to do some profound healing work this weekend. I took my own advice: I meditated. I journaled. I reached out to friends for support. I wrote myself a letter asking for my own forgiveness for my self-rejection. And I cried, oh how I cried. As I let the tears flow, I felt something shift inside of me: my ‘not enoughness’ began to feel whole again. Like maybe, just maybe, I really am enough – perfectly imperfect just as I am. That doesn’t mean that healing doesn’t need to occur – it still does.
And so I am taking some time to heal, taking it easy on myself as I process this latest life lesson. Allowing myself to move a little more slowly, and spend a lot more time outside. Allowing myself to just let the tears flow as they will. It’s a beautiful thing, really. This surrender. Because with each tear that falls, with each word I write, I know that I am becoming more congruent with me: the me I want to be, the woman I know in my core that I truly am. And