Love in my body

I hadn't known what love in my body felt like until I did. 

I hadn't known this embodied sense of love had been missing most of my life. 

Love had always been known, in my mind. 

In my mind, I knew my mom and dad loved me. I knew my siblings loved me. I knew my ex-husband loved me. 

But my body didn't know. And my heart was confused by the disconnection between my mind and body. For some reason, we're socialized to accept the conceptual understanding of love as enough. But the human experience is worthy of love beyond the mind. 

Somehow, my heart knew this, so she worked hard to bridge the gap. She worked so hard she collapsed when the gap became too wide to close. 

Six weeks after I left my marriage, I went to see my parents. My heart was so raw and tender. What she wanted most was to be held by mom. She wanted her tears to be seen. She wanted to feel the warmth of love in her body. Like a baby, she was looking for the rest and comfort of the womb. 

But what she sought she did not receive.  

"You think you're the only one in pain?" yelled my mom. 

Her question struck me. After she had already hurled harsh words filled with frustration at me. I stared at my mom in disbelief. It became so clear to me in this moment. Throughout my life, anytime I tried to tell my mom about my pain,  she shifted the focus back onto her own unresolved hurt. My mom, blinded by the trauma of her own wounds, was ill equipped emotionally to set aside the pain she felt seeing her daughter broken. My feelings were hers. She couldn't separate herself. She couldn't make space for me. She couldn't hold me tenderly. She couldn't soften my tears. She couldn't tell me she understood. She simply could not show up the way I needed. Since I was little, I buried my emotional needs because I couldn't bare the abandonment. While this pattern took a different shape in my marriage, the feeling of neglect and invalidation felt too familiar. The mind loves familiar. 

I have sat with deep anger towards my mom and ex-husband for months. Anger that had long been suppressed. Over time, I've come to understand that my healing rests in my ability to first and foremost, forgive myself, and then to forgive others, showing compassion where possible, even from afar. To accept the reality that they couldn't love me, see me, or care for me the way I needed because they couldn't do those things for themselves. To work on breaking patterns and bravely expressing pain to honor my own needs, while risking being misunderstood and unseen by others, but knowing that I have myself. This is the difference now. I have myself. As I continue to heal and come into acceptance, my heart softens, and the pain loosens some of its grip. I realize, it's a daily practice. Some days are easier than others. 

In the last year, I've experienced the embodied feeling of love. It was like discovering an endless ocean. Feeling love in our bodies is complex alchemy. It has to do with what our bodies allow through healing, and also what can be created within ourselves and with another human being. The ability to feel love deep in our flesh, into our bones, it is anchoring yet completely expansive. Love for me is experienced as a warm sensation rising from the lower part of my body up towards my heart and into my chest, freeing my shoulders to rest. It feels full and dense at my center, yet fluid and freeing in my limbs. It feels like a safe home. It feels radiating, deeply connected, light, and tingly with ease, trust, and joy. The feeling of love that's rooted and connected across mind, heart, and body... it is absolutely sacred. 

I hadn't known what love in my body felt like until I did.