A young dove flew inside my home yesterday.
I texted my best friend: “What does it mean?”
I like to give meaning to things and she’s well versed in spiritual symbolism.
“I think it’s symbolic of a death. Something has died or will die.”
That’s exactly what happened yesterday.
Yesterday, I regressed. I’d say I regret it, but I don’t. I progressed because of it. I went back to my past for an hour and a half.
We sat outside, however, even in the fresh air I felt my stomach knotting, my lungs collapsing and my skin crawling.
It felt wrong.
It felt contrived; our interaction.
Something was hiding–the truth sat cowering in the chair behind him.
I knew it was there, but it took a short walk to expose it, completely.
My love for him has been on life support the past couple of years.
I’ve been sitting bedside with a dull hope–maybe, maybe one day we would work it out, it could come back to life, get dressed and walk out the door, healthier than before.
Yesterday, that hope flat lined.
If I hadn’t gone back and sat there long enough to extract and accept the truth, my hope would have remained tubed and listless, but beating, and I would continue to suffer because of it, unable to move on.
Something else died, too: an insecurity of mine that debilitates my authenticity—doubt.
I have a habit of allowing others to dictate my reality—to tell me I’m crazy for feeling or thinking the way I do, that my perception is wrong when in fact, it’s spot on.
Well, that habit of mine was declared dead at exactly 3:15PM yesterday afternoon.
With the truth cradled in my arms, I walked away from the bedside of my past without looking back—alive, stronger and healthier than ever before. ~Rebecca