This. Too. Shall. Pass.

As I write this at 2:30am, I hear a loud dispute of a woman screaming and 3 loud bangs that makes me question her safety or sanity, snapping me out of my own silent tearful tirade, reminding myself that I am blessed. It could be worse. This. Too. Shall. Pass. But right now, my heart is aching. With clenched teeth, and my heart sunken to the pit of my stomach–or as Anne Shirley would over-dramatize–“the pits of despair”, the feeling of break-up seems imminent.

Not in the literal sense. No.

I have a man who loves me harder, wraps his arms around me, and squeezes me in comfort with his cheesy grin that melts my worries and disarms my senses. His number one goal in life is to make people happy, and with comedy as his future bread and butter, I know he’s got it.

This heartache is similar to the worse break-up of my life. It hurts just as much as it did before, if not more, because it’s happening now, not then, and it’s threatening my entire livelihood.

This heartache has nothing to do with men, although in my unimaginative mind, the only memories that rekindle the feelings are of breaking up, and my mind wanders in remembrance to past loves, missteps, and missed opportunities.

I am being challenged to break-up with my current business and wake up to it’s true potential. It’s a Kali Destruction Creation cycle. In transition. In my empath sensitive soul, its taken a huge toll on me. Lost of appetite, or rather, a lack of funding. Stay hungry, Steve Jobs would say, after all.

It’s the stages of grief. The letting go. The denial, sadness, anger, depression, and acceptance.

It’s losing something that had become very familiar to me for years but very dysfunctional and broken. I know I have to let it go.

I personify everything in my life as if we were lovers. I mourn their passing in my life just as well.

This heartache has summoned the passing and going of lovers past. Dared me to question my current relationship with my professional life, and challenged me to create in sacred union.

Oh, how I’d softly run my fingers down his back as he drifted off to sleep. Oh, how I’d rub his head in gentle massage. Oh, how his eyes sparkled when he met mine.

These tender moments, now memories, bring back the heartache that I’m meant to cry. Accept what is, what was, and what will be.

For it is this crying, this heartache, this releasing of the dam, that officially welcomes in my muse of creation, after the dust has settled.

My business is broken. My relationship with Source, Universe, Spirit is broken. And I must break up and rebuild again.

Start again.

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