If you were in a lot of emotional pain, and you knew it would take years and years to heal… would you still do the work?

I’m going to give you a peek into my journal, but before I do, I want to give you a bit of context.  On the night I wrote the entry below, I’d just returned from a quick trip to Toronto for a very special event call the Archangels Summit. This is for entrepreneurs whose purpose is to serve others in a big way.

This summit is held once a year, and this year it was on my son, Jonathan’s, sixteenth birthday.  You see, Jonathan was born sixteen years ago, but he died the following day.  This was of course a significant and very painful part of my life, but there’s something more to it.  During my pregnancy with Jonathan and his short life, something opened in me, and I started a transforming journey.

There was this moment in the hospital, before he died, when I realized I really didn’t know myself or why I was living as I was.  I had no idea how much that moment would influence the next sixteen years after his death. but now I can look back and see that it was the very first step of a long journey to find and heal myself.

Because this past year has been so culminating for me – in so many aspects of my life – the fact that the Archangels Summit fell on Jonathan’s birthday felt very special to me.  I guess most simply put, it’s because my journey to find myself began in 2000, and now, exactly sixteen years later, it was coming to a close as I finally feel ready to put my full self out into the world.

What I wrote in my journal was from the night that marked the sixteenth year of his death.  It was after I’d returned from Toronto and stopped by the cemetery.  I’ve done a lot of healing around Jonathan’s death, and I feel peace trusting that his life was exactly as it was meant to be.  Truthfully, I really don’t cry over his short life very often, but that night… I fell apart.

[from my journal]

22 September 2016

I did not expect to fall apart like I did tonight.  Even though I was at his grave, and it’s been sixteen years since he died – sixteen years today… my tears were a surprise.  Just yesterday, on his actual birthday, I felt happy remembering him.

But oh my God, I lost it.  I haven’t cried that hard about anything in years… years.  It felt like tears that were just waiting, even stored up, to be poured out only for this moment.  I even looked around at one point to see if anyone was nearby because I was crying so hard.

But, God it felt good.  It felt so good to just let it all go… like more freedom came over me tonight.  There’s been so much happening in every area of my life, and it all seems to be for closure which feels both good and scary.  

It took me a while to understand my tears tonight, but now I know why the were so strong.

Of course I feel pain over Jonathan’s death, but this was more.  It was different.  It was deep but also broad like a blanket of grief that covered far more than his death.

These tears were for me.  For change.  For metamorphosis.  For goodbyes and hellos.  For pain and for healing. They were for being real even though it’s been really scary to be so.  They were for years of being what others wanted me to be – nearly a lifetime of pretending.  The tears were for sixteen years of incredible highs and incredible lows.  These tears signified the end of ‘pretend Shannon’ and the rising of ‘Real Shannon’.

There’s a part of me who’s embarrassed it’s taken me 48 years to claim her.  But there’s a much bigger part of me who’s proud of all the work I’ve done to finally wrap her in my arms, pull her within myself as one, and call her Me.  

And call her ME – without worrying about what anyone else thinks of her.  

My God, that is freeing.  I’m so grateful – even for the pain – because it’s been the path to a lot of good.

~

Before I went home from that cemetery that night, I sat for a long time at Jonathan’s gravestone.  I know he’s not there.  I know his lifetime with me as his mommy was exactly as it was meant to be.  I feel blessed and grateful to have been the mother to such a beautiful soul.  A remarkably, beautiful, perfect, blessed soul.

Although I hadn’t seen it coming, I knew I had to make room for those tears.  As I sat there, I wanted arms around me.  And I wanted to be alone.  I wanted to run back to my car.  And I wanted to lay down on the grass to cry until the stars shone above me.

So I made room for my real-ness.  I gave myself permission to cry as hard as my soul needed me to do so.  My tears were for the duality of life – the sorrow and joy, the pain and healing, the pretending and honesty.  They were the symbol of transformation.  

Jonathan’s life and death – sixteen years ago – was the start of my journey, my awakening.  I didn’t only heal from the grief of losing him. I healed from so much more.  And now he was showing me that it was time to spread my wings and leap from this mountain top I’ve slowly ascended so I can help as many people as I can to heal their pain.

If I’d known it would take so many years to heal all the pain I’d accumulated… perhaps I’d have said no to this journey.  Maybe it would have seemed far too big a task for me – especially for pretend Shannon who felt small and unimportant.

But now I know that’s not true – I am enough in every way, and it’s time to tell my stories.  It’s time for me to shift to less work in healing myself and more work in helping others heal.