“The caves you dare not enter contain the treasures you seek.” ~Joseph Campbell
My husband, Jack, and I sat painfully on our beautiful new linen couch, inches apart but worlds apart. Hours of debate have brought us to another impasse that is now ten years old.
I looked around in despair at the beautiful life we had built together and was stunned by the decision I knew I had to make. My partners, my friends, the country I live in, the ground beneath my feet—all are on the verge of collapse.
I stared at the ceiling, heartbroken. What is left in my life? And so I began to sink into the white-hot heartache of letting things die.
Love does not require translation: recognition and adaptation
Ten years ago, I moved from Australia to the United States to be with my soon-to-be husband.
This doesn’t seem like a particularly dramatic move to me. I had spent my entire adult life traveling and living abroad before that, and although there was always a natural adjustment period, I did it. In fact, I loved it—I felt like I was born a foreigner.
So I thought it would be similar; direct, even. But I was wrong.
The essence of foreigners is that they are strangers. Each day can feel like a fragile dance between two worlds that requires tremendous personal strength, emotional generosity, and energetic adaptation, as you are forever being read from a different worldview, which means you may feel constantly misunderstood. Reading and misunderstanding, even when you speak the same language.
Add to that the other difficulties inherent in living in a foreign culture that I’ve learned to cope with – having no outlet for much of my content, constantly navigating an environment that didn’t reflect my values at all – I now also The need to accommodate my partner’s lifestyle must be considered. I needed to be friends with his friends, take the vacations he wanted, and fit myself into his intended role of “wife” in his life.
We made large-scale decisions that seemed like compromises at the time, and I was often happy to make them in the name of the unit. But with each compromise, a part of my identity disappeared, and I eventually realized how much of what was real to me was taken out of “us,” and how little I valued my own desires and happiness. few.
I became deeply alienated in my life and marriage. I stretched myself so far beyond my skin that maladaptation started to occur. I would find myself talking to friends and the words I said felt like they were coming from someone else’s mouth.
In trying to survive, I created a life that reflected little of my truth, a life that starved me emotionally, mentally, and spiritually.
But even when I realized it, I couldn’t bring myself to end it. Deconstructing my half-life seemed worse than surviving. I knew this would trigger a tsunami of unknown magnitude, so it was a ridiculous decision. So I didn’t.
I dealt with my unhappiness for months, convinced that it was better than starting over from scratch.
Facing the inevitable: embracing endings and loss
A few years ago I joined a group that met monthly to raise awareness of death and reflect on the sadness and heartache that comes with every moment, month, year, and endings big and small that happen throughout our lives, Preparing for our ultimate end – death.
Through it, I realized that I was avoiding the death of my relationship for fear of enduring the inevitable pain that would come with it, and in doing so, I was forcing it and myself to live in unnatural ways.
For ten years, my ex-husband and I were like two planets, orbiting each other day after day. I never thought we would have to live without each other. Even in later years, despite everything we went through, I still loved him and loved him dearly.
The pain of losing this love is immense—worse than I could have ever imagined.
For six months I walked around feeling like my chest was being torn apart. Pain is not just a fleeting sensation; It was a tangible, daily presence in my life, so intense that by the afternoon I could do nothing but lie on my bedroom floor with the weight of the world on my chest. The pain was so intense and heavy that it felt like it was squeezing the air from my lungs.
We experience pain when something we love ends or dies. Pain and sadness are natural reactions to death and endings in general. But we also have a simple biological tendency to cling to things that make us feel good and avoid things that make us feel bad.
It’s a paradox – pain is biologically natural, yet we try to avoid it. In trying to avoid this, we miss the point.
The Alchemy of Pain: Increased Elasticity and Sensitivity
The pain and fear are so profound that they change your understanding of life.
If we’re lucky, we won’t have many opportunities to come into contact with them in our lives, but they are an important part of nature’s design.
The human organism has evolved through many things, and pain has been a very effective catalyst in our evolution. It makes our inner world wider and deeper, and our ability to understand and master life greater. The more pain we allow ourselves to feel, the greater our tolerance for it.
What I have felt through the death and ending of my relationships is a deeper connection with the nature within me and around me. It was as if the pain had entered and resolved all the rigid spaces within me and brought a new sensitivity into my life.
Death and endings are not tragedies
Death and endings are a natural part of life. Arguing with them is like arguing with our need to eat – we are only hurting ourselves. What’s more, we deprive ourselves of the biological purpose of these outcomes.
I learned to pay closer attention when I prevented death from happening. I learned to embrace the pain of endings and love what they did within me—reshape my life and take me to new, truer, and more deeply satisfying places I never thought I could. .
My deconstruction still hurts me every day, but I’m not so scared now. I feel more in tune with my fear and can now recognize it as a healthy, normal part of my own psyche.
As I face the uncertainty of life, I know that when this overwhelming pain comes again, I will feel it just as much, but the fear will be easier to bear. Now I know to take comfort in the beauty and intent of its design—to allow my heart and soul to grow in breadth and depth.
After a year, my divorce was finally finalized last week, and when I look around at my life, I realize I was right – there’s not much left. The people around me, where I spend my time, and even my business are different.
It will be a while before I can say that my healing journey is complete, but as I continue to dig into my bones, reclaim the parts of me that I have lost over the years, and relearn how to achieve my dreams on my own, most importantly One thing is clear: I’m once again connected to everything inside me, feeling all parts of my humanity and all parts of my life, and that’s what matters most.
About Rachel Brown
As the owner of Emergent Voice, Rachel Browne is a doula of presence. She guides individuals to realize their unique life potential by helping them discover their truth and realize their gifts in the world. Through her existential approach, she promotes self-discovery, knowledge, and growth, helping to guide people on the path to fulfillment. Get to know her by booking a free tea now via emergent-voice.com.
