write to the center.

on writing as a lifeline, and coming up for air

Human Genome 8 by Lyndi Sales

On Valentine’s Day, heartbreak blindsided me while I was hanging on by a thread emotionally.

I was still in the depths of mourning the unexpected and traumatizing death of my cat, Oliver, which occurred merely weeks before. The abruptness of the breakup marked the end of the future that I thought I had wanted (in retrospect, I was saved), and I lay in bed devoid of hope. I was exhausted from loving fiercely and losing it to physical and metaphorical death, and jaded from the repeated soul lessons in romance—it was as if I couldn’t pass the class despite how prepared I felt. 

My heartache is compounded grief. If I am not careful, I will destructively bury myself in a hole of everything and everyone I have ever mourned since the beginning of this life, and ruminate in that void. After this particular ending, my abandonment wound from childhood had wolf’s teeth pierced into it and it was an agonizing, unbearable kind of pain. It was also the catalyst I needed to free myself from the beast.

As my thoughts spiraled into dangerous territory, I knew it was crucial to use writing as a lifeline. This craft has repeatedly saved me from drowning, and I had a sense that there was something revelatory that would occur on the page, if only I could muster up enough energy to find out. 

Joan Didion said, “I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking, what I'm looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear.” From experience, I understood this to be true. So I dragged myself out of bed with my pen and journal, and headed outside. 

I wrote my way through the heaviness until there was a palpable difference in my energy. I dissected the breakup, analyzed the state of my heart, and allowed space for my most depressive thoughts to be expressed, no matter how uncomfortable they were to look at. As the weight of my emotions dissipated by stripping down the layers, I reached the center where the soul is heard.

Essential questions were arising: What have I always wanted? I am the architect of my life, so let me construct a fulfilling world to reside in. How can I best tend to this special relationship with myself? Where is the joy found? Suddenly, I began writing about how perhaps this is my chance to solo travel, to follow what previously seemed like a distant dream.

“It is only when I am courageous that my life gains momentum,” I said. “As I write about this potential trip abroad, something calms in my spirit. This is the first step I must take for this new life to open up for me.”

That very evening, I booked my flight to Mexico City.

I began this fateful writing session in a deeply forlorn place, and concluded it with a plane ticket and the determination to change my life.

To write to the center, you must bravely confront and give a voice to every layer yearning to be heard. In my center, I reconnected with the wisest part of myself who understood this relationship ending to be the most precious gift of redirection, as it would lead me to stepping into my power and embracing the freedom of choice.

“You need to reach down and touch the thing that’s boiling inside of you and make it somehow useful,” said Audre Lorde. Through the work of transmuting this pain into joyful living over the past six months, the wolf’s teeth have lost their grip. In their place, there are holes from the bite. Tiny openings for the light.

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𖤓 “How a Breakup, Losing a Pet, & The Pandemic Made Sonya Renee Taylor Unapologetically Joyful.” 

This gem of an episode from the podcast Don’t Change A Thing, was introduced to me through the wonderful Amara Amaryah’s (Life is in Love With Me) newsletter The Easeful Place.

The episode’s title immediately captured my attention because of our shared past experiences mentioned in this essay.

It’s a remarkably nourishing, inspiring, and necessary conversation about freedom and belonging, joy’s place in the world, and how we can cultivate it within ourselves through radical self-love. 

A taste: “I am my own home. That home is an internal experience. It is the experience of a reconnection of my beingness. The ultimate experience of home is radical self-love.” —Sonya Renee Taylor

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𖤓 How do you connect with and reach your center? How do you know when you’ve arrived?

𖤓 As Audre Lorde said, “reach down and touch the thing that’s boiling inside of you and make it somehow useful." What is currently boiling within yourself, and how will you make use out of it?

𖤓 What is one change that you could realistically make right now that would create momentum in your life?

𖤓 What does joyful living mean to you? What resides within your personal well of joy?

𖤓 Create a circle with layers and a defined large center. Sit with each layer and use words, color, and/or symbols to label what they represent within yourself. The hidden parts, the parts seen by the world, etc. Allow the center to be the space in which you connect with your most authentic self. Color/write in what that looks like.

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If you enjoyed the themes of this essay, you may also resonate with:

• surrender and flow in vibrant mexico city

• água viva

• the return

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