I love Saturday mornings where I wake up with a buzz to drink coffee and write.

Saturdays are starkly different to what they once were. My safe space has downsized from a three-bed-semi to a compact room in my uncle’s house where the study desk doubles up as a dressing table and, on rare occasion, a dining table. I’ve had to temporarily part ways with non-essential items… which is just a kooky way of saying I’ve had to move my books back to mum and dad’s. Thank sweet heaven for the Kindle fire ft. a £20 SD card thrust in its orifice with a view to cram more books into its humble processor. Friends that have remained in my life include but are not limited to: the salt lamp, the LED string lights, an obscene number of cushions (vacuum bags= the future), the crystals, the notebooks, the oracle decks, the Rituals candle I bought myself during the acute breakup phase, two bags of toiletries, two homemade bundles of sage, a packet of ceremonial Cacao (a gift, from my dear friend, W-), two months’ worth of sertraline (yep-still my bff), and last but never, ever least… my trusty vibrator.

Saturdays aren’t the only starkly different thing about this limbo I find myself in. Whilst I’ve experienced a breakup, plenty, in my short life, they’ve been on less extreme terms. I’ve never lived with past partners, co-owned property with them or worn a pretty diamond on my finger that somehow symbolises a choice to spend the remainder of my short existence with them. Yet, I find myself in a place that is so much more grounded, calm, centred and peaceful than ever before. This isn’t to say I’m not grieving (side note: I asked my therapist if I could get a discount on the session if I named the Kubler-Ross five stages of grief in perfect order. Current stage=anger. She creased and responded with “I’m the therapist here!” I did not get a discount on the session).

I’m taking stock of the deep inner work I’ve done. This has ranged from somatically experiencing and re-processing my childhood trauma in EMDR therapy for the best part of a year, to meeting my inner child in Rising Woman’s self help course ‘Becoming The One’, to shamanic ceremonies in Glastonbury Goddess Temple purging and screaming into fires, crying at the back of Yoga Classes, meeting myself wherever I am in journal entry after entry after entry after entry and perhaps most valuably… in learning to sit with depression, loneliness and pain on long, dark nights with no one to turn to but the Furies in my head yelling ‘You’re not good enough’.

Having integrated all of these things and constantly engaging in the process of: awaken, learn, integrate time and again, I’ve found myself in a place where I can actually feel the evolution that’s taken place in these very cells I call my own. The young woman who wakes up in this small room each day, who has ‘lost’ her home, her fiancé, her fantasy of a marriage with children, her well paid job and her ego based identity is less energetically dense. She is lighter, brighter and closer to her true, divine nature. She is authentic and oh my, she is beautiful. She is powerful. She is expansive. She is conscious. She is awakening. She is so embodied that she doesn’t even know how not to be herself anymore. And I imagine that can be very scary for some people. The people who want to stay asleep, who are choosing not to confront their demons with the same bravery I continue to display. When you grow, your circle either evolves alongside you or those who aren’t ready to meet themselves there gently fall away so that the people on Your Path may fall together.

In essence, I am wholly responsible for manifesting this breakup. It is a gift and a road to a more aligned future where I get to keep meeting myself wherever I am and receiving validation that that is perfect. I am consciousness experiencing herself in this beautiful human vessel.

In the past, I would yearn for my partners. Relish in the hopes they would reach out, deeply regret their actions and come crawling back, begging for me. My fingers would itch to text them and my body to sex them… just this once so that I may ‘feel’ whole and complete. This time- nothing. As soon as I knew that R- had emotionally checked out, my cells, organs and tissues created an energetic boundary, forged by love that he was no longer permitted to be a part of. I suddenly embodied the highest form of self love and respect without even realising. Trusting, simply, that my higher self knows what I need.

It is a gift to be able to experience anger, pain, loss and confusion from a grounded place, armed with the knowledge that none of those things will break me. Of course, I have many moments where I get caught up in the illusion that I am somehow defined by this malarkey but the gift is that I come back here. To Gowri. To Home. Losing R-, the man I truly believed to be my soulmate was my ego’s greatest fear. I always imagined it in the form of death or tragedy but it has come into fruition in the form of a break-up instead. I have the pleasure of watching myself rise from its angry flames, drinking its medicine, observing my growth and knowing that this is the path I have chosen for myself and I am committed to it. To her. To myself. To consciousness. To integrity. To love.

I know this post may seem a little far fetched. A year ago, I wouldn’t have been able to understand these words, let alone write them. Today I see what a testament this is to my spiritual growth and I bask in its joy, revel in its wisdom and celebrate Gowri: The Most Embodied Version Yet.

With Love

G x

P.S. For all those finding out about my breakup on the blog or via other means. I am deeply grateful for your kind words and messages and will respond when I am able.


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