Surrendering to Joy
I am a wife. I just (two days ago) got married to my best friend and the most incredible human being in the universe. Yes, we’re a COVID couple. We stubbornly persevered with our original wedding date pre-COVID and the forces of the universe worked out in our favour. The sunshine. Phase 3. A small guest list anyway. The fact that our venue was a restaurant with a completely outdoor patio, though covered in areas in case of rain. I feel so damn lucky.
I cannot put into words to beauty of what I have experienced over the last few days. I didn’t realize, until it was happening, the significance of this milestone in a couple’s life and path together. There were a lot of ups and downs — lots and lots of meltdowns — but when I woke up on my wedding day I felt nothing but unbridled joy. Every single moment, every breath I took, was fucking magical. Our wedding was a giant tidal wave of love, that came and crashed upon the shore and with interminable will, washed away all of the sad shanty towns of grief and worry erected over the last few months. When we came home, I was awake and sleepless until 4 a.m. just vibrating on this frequency. In complete shock at the joy and love that had overwhelmed me.
I’ve been seeing a therapist for the last year to help me learn how to understand and cope with anxiety, with the occasional bout of depression. One year ago, I was a complete ball of nerves even while vacationing with family in Portugal. I was crying, worried about job prospects for the upcoming school year. I’m in a similar boat this year — still not permanent, applying for jobs, but the anxiety seems to have vanished. I am shocked because of all years to be returning to a classroom, it is especially hectic given what’s happening across the public school board right now. I just have a deep sense of trust that things will work out. I also think I’m kind of just tired of worrying. I am surrendering my worry. What will happen will happen and there is little I can do to change the situation. I accept my unfolding. I do not need to hang on to it with a tight grip.
This new moon my intention is to celebrate joy. Lean into the positive feelings of what it means to wake up each day and walk the earth. This beautiful gift of life. To experience true love. To mend a broken heart and heal childhood trauma. To surrender my worries to a higher power.
There is so much more I want to write…but for now, these words:
“It was all unknown to me then, as I sat on that white bench on the day I finished my hike. Everything except the fact that I didn’t have to know. That is was enough to trust that what I’d done was true. To understand its meaning without yet being able to say precisely what it was, like all those lines from The Dream of a Common Language that had run through my nights and days. To believe that I didn’t need to reach with my bare hands anymore. To know that seeing the fish beneath the surface of the water was enough. That it was everything. It was my life — like all lives, mysterious and irrevocable and sacred. So very close, so very present, so very belonging to me.
How wild it was, to let it be.”
— Cheryl Strayed
