Endings can feel like death, but they also hold so much hope if you remain present in the tension of the liminal space they create. My son moved out of our home last week. He spent a year with us after his college graduation, which was a gift of unexpected time. As I headed home after moving him into his apartment in the city, I hugged him tightly, not wanting to let go because I knew that he wouldn’t be coming home to stay again. We bless and release. Give thanks for the goodness that happened here and also for the goodness this next chapter holds. My brain understands this; my heart, not so much. It clings tenaciously to what was and has a hard time trusting in the goodness to come.
I felt this way 14 years ago as I prepared to send my fourth and final child to full-day kindergarten. I had worked full time when I sent my first child to kindergarten, but I had since become a stay-at-home mom, so her leaving felt like the end of my purpose. “Who am I, if not full time mama?” I asked. Little by little, God helped me find a groove and grow into the space this new season held. It wasn’t a death at all but simply a chance to begin again. Always, we begin again.
In two weeks, we will be dropping this same child off at college. I want to be excited and happy because I know she is ready and she will do great things, but my heart aches at the thought of losing her. She will be only three hours away. I can FaceTime her any time I miss her, but my heart is screaming, “No!” The grief wants to pull me under and tricks me into believing this is the end. As I step back and hold my grieving heart, I become aware of all the times I had to let go of what I loved.
I didn’t have language or comfort or understanding that endings are simply a part of life; they always lead to something new.
The next chapter holds a lot of uncertainty, which feels like impending doom. Hebb’s law explains the neurons that fire together get wired together. My nervous system that is extremely dysregulated with the many transitions happening simultaneously is demanding some attention and care. As I tune into the terror that is being activated, I become aware that when people leave, it feels like they are abandoning me. It feels primal, and I feel young and terrified. I want to quiet the terror, dismiss it, and keep packing and preparing, but I must stop and sit with the terror that is coming forward.
As I hold this terror with compassion, I begin to find the ground of my being and feel stable once again. Tuning into my breath increases this present-moment awareness, which further improves a sense of safety in my body. The terror contracts me to a breathless space, and remembering the breath ushers in healing grace and a little more space to feel and attune to what is happening.
I hold my heart and whisper, “I love you, I’m listening.”
“What do you want me to know about this pain that is crushing you?” I ask without demand.
I wait, curious and open. Breathing in perfect love and pausing to rest in the quiet still space within me. With each exhale, the fear evaporates as divine love expands in and around me. Levity returns. The young one rises within and thanks me for seeing her with compassion. She wants me to reassure her that she matters and that I will never abandon her. She wants me to know that change is hard and scary for her and that she feels alone and neglected in this space. I wrap my arms around her and validate all of that.
“Of course you feel that way! Thank you for trusting me and telling me all about it.”
I invite her to come with me in our imagination to the river of love, where we can release all the heaviness into the river. We feel it, name it, and throw rocks as we release it all into the river. We climb onto a big raft and begin to float together hand in hand along the river of love. As new waves of fear, grief, what ifs, and if onlys bubble up, we let those stones drop into the river as we lift our heart to the sun and trust that we are held and supported.
In the uncertainty that comes with change, it is good to look back and give thanks for all of the goodness the last chapter held. It is helpful to pause in the present moment to feel all the feels and to take some time to release what feels heavy and ill-fitting. It is okay to cry and scream and tremble in fear. Feel it, name it, love whatever arises, and let it go into the river of love. Allow your body to release whatever is coming forward to be healed. Then, stand on the mountaintop looking out on the horizon and allow your heart to hope and expand into the goodness that the next chapter is ushering in. Enjoy!
It has been a sacred honor to be a part of the Red Tent Living writing community. My first story, “See Me!’ was published 10 years ago. After a lifetime of hiding in shame, I have been welcomed into this healing space with open arms and eyes of delight. Thank you to all who have shared your vulnerable hearts and authentic selves through the telling of your story. I have learned and been healed through your words. Thank you for giving me a safe harbor to share my story. I’m sad this chapter is coming to an end and so very honored to have been a part of such a glorious community of women sharing their truths.
Jean Masukevich is a trauma-sensitive yoga teacher and integrative coach with over 20 years of teaching experience. Her mission is to guide others to greater mind, body, spirit integration and connection to their authentic self. She cultivates communities of care where individuals and groups heal and share their hearts and stories through movement, writing, meditation, integrative prayer, creativity, and the sacred art of listening. Jean holds an advanced certificate in grief and trauma from the Allender Center of the Seattle School of Theology and Psychology and is a certified spiritual director through Sustainable Faith. Jean serves both children and adults and is available for in person and remote coaching. Contact her at Sowthatjean@gmail.com.
Jean, thank you for taking us with you to the river. Your sharing this with us is encouraging and enlightening!
Good goodness and good work and good example!
Hello Sandra,
Thanks for joining me on the river of love. So many blessings to you, dear 💗
Jean – You have been a faithful guest writer, trusting us again and again with your unfolding story. We are incredibly grateful to have you in our midst, with your tender wisdom, and resilient stance in the world you inhabit. Blessings over you dear one as you continue to bring your beautiful soul to bear.
Jean, your story and the words you use to tell it consistently resonate with my shame-prone heart. You have time and again extended warm invitation to each of us to call our child-selves forward so that we may heal them with compassionate curiosity a little at a time. Thank you for your profoundly healing offerings.