I’ve just emerged from a period of extreme wallowing. Did you notice?

Many of you gently commented about the lipstick I smeared on my tear-stained face. I’d been sucked into the quicksand of heartbreak, like the proverbial maiden in distress, unable to do anything but ruminate, complain, and write melancholy letters. Getting my shit together was out of the question.

There was a part of me that saw the maturity and kindness in this break-up. There was a part of me that realized how much this relationship opened me because I got to see things I had previously not wanted to see. Part of me knew that this was not the end of the world. More than likely the sun was going to rise another day and I would go on, perhaps even better than before.

The part of me that’s been studying, teaching and coaching about suffering as a gateway to grace knew exactly how powerful and profound this period would be.

But, you see, those parts were being beaten, trampled and gagged by the one part of me that was screaming in agony, that was kicking myself for everything I did wrong and enraged by all of the blunders made by the other party.

The intensity of these emotions was completely intoxicating and in a strange way I wanted to keep feeling them. I wrapped them around me like a life-jacket. Anytime I slipped into a moment of peace or contentment, like a junkie, I kept running back to the fix of angst and anger and heartbreak.

In the spectrum of spiritual practice, this is a biggie.

When coming back to our inner stillness, wellness and peace, it can feel… flat. The hormone rush of emotional extremes is much more exciting and enticing. It gives me something to think about, talk about, connect with others about. On the other hand, the sacred space of nothingness can feel like stepping into a dark room. It is disorienting at best, terrifying at worst.

There is no way out, just through. So I notice when I want to feel the thrill of a peak emotional state again, and I honor my temporary addiction. I don’t actually have to force it away. My soul will settle into its natural state of well-being in due time.

How do I know? Because when I stop fighting it, the frenzy always passes.

Even now, when the flashbacks come fast and strong, I am fine. I trust in the blessing and the lesson of this experience. I am surrounded by the love of extraordinary beings. Did I mention? I AM FINE.

Here’s a practice I offer you from the place where my wholeness and my brokenness dance inside my heart. (There’s Chaka Khan playing and we are definitely busting a move.)

• Notice the feeling of being consumed by intense emotion.
• Create space between you and the judgment of the experience
• Realize that the there is nothing to fear in the stillness and silence. (In fact, therein lies all the ingredients for your healing.)
• Allow your soul’s natural pull toward wellness to carry you there.
• Repeat.

Know that you are fine. Even when it might not feel like it. Especially then.

Anyhow, suffering is so last millennium. Let’s get happy, people.

Interested in support and guidance for your own life challenges, and a healing practice created specifically for you? I’d love to help. Find out more here.