Little Deaths and Letting Go

Last night I had a nightmare. I dreamt I had cancer. It was so vivid, so real that I woke with a rapidly beating heart and a huge sense of relief when I realized it was, in fact, just a dream. The big C has been a huge fear of mine ever since I was a very young child. In my late teens, I watched my dad succumb to the dreaded disease and later still it claimed my aunt as well as the youngest of my half-sisters.

Once I was ready to tackle the day I googled what dreaming of cancer might mean, I read the first explanation: A part of you is dying...

Oookay then.

The next explanation popped up and seemed to leap off the screen at me: Dreaming of cancer often denotes the end of one life-cycle and the beginning of another...

An unwilling smile tugged at my lips as I looked at the computer screen. Of course, I thought wryly, of course...

Have I mentioned that it is less than a fortnight until my 45th Birthday?

That puts me firmly in the middle-age bracket. How strange when in my mind I feel not a day over 21! No wonder I've been feeling so introspective lately. How time flies, it seemed the mere blink of an eye and my youth is gone. 

Now  I recognized the feeling that has been shadowing me for some months, it is an old frenemy of mine and when it shows up, I know from experience, it means letting go, usually of something very dear to me.

I was eight when I first encountered this frenemy. Back then it required me to face the cold, hard reality that miraculous healing was, most likely not in the cards for me. I look back at that eight-year-old now and I'm astounded by how young she was, how innocent. Sometimes I still cry for her.

In my teens that old fiend showed up once more asking that I give up the need to be desired by the opposite sex. That was a particularly hard pill to swallow, it took decades to achieve. In my twenties and thirties, it demanded of me to face that I'd most likely never have a husband, children or a  house of my own. No white picket fence for me, it simply was not my life. It demanded I let go and each and every one of these 'let go' moments, felt like a death.

I'd like to say I handled each of these 'little deaths' with dignified grace, but the truth is I went into these dark nights kicking, screaming and clinging to the bitter end. I did not go gently. But then about a week before the nightmare, I opened this blog post with I sensed it again and this time it asked my dream of being 'the next JK Rowling'.

Now don't laugh, this was a particularly cherished dream.

Looking back now I realized this has been coming on for about two years. (Notice I wasn't being asked to give up my writing, only my attachment to how I measured professional success.) Once I realized exactly what was being asked of me I let go in an instant and to my immense surprise, my long-absent muse immediately returned to transport me to faraway Irish shores and a tiny hamlet called Ballynar. 

I'd almost forgotten how much I enjoyed being there, or how easily the words flow when I let go and just write from the heart and soul, trusting that my simple little story will reach and resonate with those it was meant for. The pressure is off and the words are flowing with an effortlessness I haven't known in years, literally.

I turn 45 in two weeks, looking back at all the 'little deaths' in my life thus far I'm amazed to realize that each of them brought new life in its wake, new dreams, new possibilities, new adventures. Having no husband, children or a house to run has given me time to write, freeing up my time to build worlds and take courses that I otherwise would not have time for. I'm never lonely because my mind is always filled with characters and new ideas.

As for the dream of miraculous healing, I won't close the door on it completely, after all the God I know seems to delight in throwing me curve balls the moment I think I have everything figured out. But I have stopped clinging and grasping desperately to the hope of being physically healed and that letting go has allowed me to accept what is and to be thankful, truly and completely for all I do have.

As for this current 'letting go', I think I'll try to go gently into the dark night this time. I find it is not half as scary as it once was.  Who knows what adventures are still to come? I for one can't wait to find out!

Regards

Freeda Moon