I have a complicated relationship with the word abundance. For starters, it’s always on home décor next to images that say “Live Love Laugh” which feels like a joke to me. Secondly, this word came up in a conversation with a law school classmate who was discussing how her life feels abundant. I thought to myself, I bet the fuck it does. You’re rich and have never worried about money a day in your life.
Abundance feels like one of those words whose use demonstrates that you’re one with the universe. Like if you use it in everyday life, you must be a centered person. I don’t consider myself centered or one with the universe, but in the moment when I learned of this theme, I felt like I had arrived. I felt like I had something to say. That abundance finally applied to me.
Then I sat down to try and write a story to share today, and it felt like I was pulling out each of my teeth one by one.
Because the truth is, I’ve been healing. I’ve been intentional about restoring my broken heart for 13 months now. I met my last partner when I was 22, and I remember thinking how lucky I was to be able to sit back and chill at such a young age. I had found my person. I hadn’t realized that while I spent the next six years in love, I was growing further from the reality that I needed to be my person. I desperately needed myself. If I was to have any shot of becoming the person of my dreams, it was time to believe that it was possible.
So, there’s other healing to be done. There’s other unlearning to be done. I feel like I have no prolific story to tell, or lesson that I’ve learned, but I do feel this:
I’m finally in a place where I can look back at my relationship without getting angry. I can finally look back and laugh. I’ve practiced. I’ve allowed. I’ve been patient. And fought to remember that phase of my existence with love.
That’s not to say I never slip into angry remembrance. But one day I decided that I wanted to choose love. I wanted to feed myself love. I wanted to be alive in this world, and live softly. I wanted to feel as if my life and the possibilities for it are abundant.
Now that I can look back with love, it feels time to step into the abundance that is present in my life. I didn’t leave my last relationship – stepping out solely on the gut feeling that our time has passed – to live empty. I stepped out into the dream of more.
Not more in the sense that he wasn’t good enough. More in the sense of trusting the feeling that our time together has passed. More in the sense that I deserve to feel excited about the rest of my life and its possibilities.
I feel like the universe made me so uncomfortable that I had to choose differently. I spent years of my life staring abundance in the face and decided it wasn’t possible for someone like me. That anything and everything wasn’t possible for me. I felt like I wasn’t deserving of the thought that being alone could open doors. I didn’t dare imagine that my life has an abundance of love, and time to do the things that make me feel alive. I wouldn’t dare allow this feeling to breathe life into my curiosities and dreams.
But it’s time to play my own game. A game of truth and dare.
I’ve always wanted to write an ode to my feet. Learn to play some sort of drum. Trick myself into loving the process of preparing myself a meal. Train my body to do the splits. Be a dope ass lawyer in yellow dresses by day, comfortable in my solitude by night.
I hadn’t realized that I’m already living a life that is abundant in excitement, joy, fear, sadness, time, love, and change. It all lives within me.
The tools are there. Now is the time to practice. Now is the time to start building the home within myself that I’ve always longed for.