As I listened to the rain falling on the cottage roof last night at 3 am, I recalled a recent conversation with a friend. Actually several different conversations came to mind all at once because that seems to be the way my mind works.

For a moment I felt a tensing in my belly -- the spot I carry my worry -- and then just as gently as the falling rain, I let it go. I realized it was not my worry to carry. No good would come from me taking that on.

Just a few short years ago I would have allowed those conversations and the pain my friends were in to take up residence within my belly, right along with my own list of things I worried about. After laying there in the dark visualizing all the worry filled possibilities to the things on my mind, I would have eventually fallen asleep with my stomach clenched and awoke again with it still clenched, never even realizing I had allowed it to become a part of me. 

Now, through yoga and mindfulness, I have tuned into my body well enough to know when something foreign is attempting to work its way in, or when something out of my control is looking for a place to land. Thankfully I am now able to let go of what is not mine to carry. And once I do, I am at peace within my body again, and my mind is able to concentrate positively on what is right there in front of me.

The sweet sound of the rain on the roof brings me back to this present moment and I send up a grateful prayer for being safe, warm and dry on this night and then waves of appreciation begin to roll in for all that I have, and all that I am. I am thankful for this cottage and its special ability to make the world go away when I arrive here, the snoringly beautiful man beside me who chooses to love me no matter how many curve balls I throw at him, the little angel sleeping in the pack and play in the next room who I am honored to be able to help raise and call granddaughter. The list begins right there and goes on to include health and well wishes for my children who are not currently under this roof but who I pray are just as safe, for my friends who are struggling with their unique issues, for members of my family, etc.

Once I would have "worried" myself totally awake and into a racing state of mind. This time however, I am not worrying, I am at peace. I have learned to turn around/fend off "worry" into positive thoughts.  I send love, light, happiness, strength, clarity, forgiveness, peace -- whatever is needed out in big beautiful waves from my heart. I used to carry so many struggles within me (as if I had the power to do something about them). It got me one big ugly ulcer and a negativity I never want to hold inside again and did nothing helpful for the people I took them from.

Now instead of focusing on the negative, I send a shot of positive to all who need it and let the clench go, knowing this is how I keep the best version of me centered in peace. This is how I show up in their lives as a light, as a calm, positive, loving light. Or on my best days, maybe even as an inspiration.

The rain works its way back into my consciousness and I smile. Happy and content that I am where I am. Safe, loved, thankful and ready for what curve balls life throws at me next.
 

It is my experience that you don’t truly transform, until you hit rock bottom.

Or until your heart cracks wide open and you are finally no longer able to keep change from coming in. 

I absolutely remember my rock bottom and when my heart cracked open for good--it was loud and painful. I was in the midst of several big life changes, a new and (stressful to me) job, my youngest child growing up and fighting to do things his way, and a search for a greater meaning and purpose to my life.

I was alone in the house sobbing uncontrollably on a Friday night after a long and stress-filled week. I felt helpless, hopeless, and so far from myself I wasn't sure who I was anymore. Everything felt off. Wrong.

A mixture of shame, guilt, frustration, anger and all the other lower energies took control of me. The sobs came from deep within, the kind that leave a trail of snot and spittle on your shirt and sweat pits under your arms. My stomach hurt, my head hurt, and my heart hurt.  I remember being really scared I would not be able to summon the strength to pull myself back together again, to get myself under control if I let it all out. But keeping it in was no longer an option. My gut was burning.

What I see now looking back is that the breaking of my heart on that day in November of 2012 was not a falling apart to render me helpless, but a cracking open to heal. It was an answer to my prayers for wishing to live happier and freer. It was a letting go of the bottled up negativity that had held me hostage for way too long.

Lying on the basement floor, feeling broken and exhausted, I opened my eyes to the sound of another human being asking me what was the matter. It was the person who I might at the time have been the most worried about, most scared for and certainly the one I was feeling the most disconnected from. It was my youngest son Mitch.

At the time he was struggling with his own set of life issues, his having more to do with the friends he chose to hang out with and the choices he was making about his future. Mine revolved around my need to stay in control, to do things perfectly and to keep my Type A, control freak death grip on life in place. It was no longer working the way I was used to, and I was lost. I had fallen into a deep well of self-doubt and I couldn't find a way out.

His concern, his gentle words and the tender way he touched me, lifted me up and gave me courage to let it all out. I opened my eyes and out spilled all my regret over how I hadn't been the mom I had always wanted to be, how I had tried too hard to keep he and his brother safe and maybe in the process suffocated them and how everyone and everything was falling apart around me. Worst of all I was a mess and I considered myself a failure.  From my low place all I could see was what I had done wrong in my life.

There was no doubt I had gotten lost from my true self somewhere in the busy years of being a mom, wife and working woman. Yet beneath the controlling, judgmental, hypocrite I had become, Mitch still saw hints of the real me underneath the layers of pretend.

And with grace greater than I ever expected from him (or thought I deserved), he said the words I needed to hear. That I was not a parenting failure, that I was not a complete failure as a human being, that he, in fact, wanted to be more like me. Didn't I know that he wanted the kind of marriage, family and life his dad and I had for himself someday?

I looked out through my swollen eyes in disbelief and wonder, and I probably cried harder at that point, but the tears that streamed out were somehow softer, cleansing maybe, and I felt the tightness in my belly and chest begin to loosen. I believe now that this brief exchange at my rock bottom moment created a small space in my heart for the real healing to begin.

As Glennon Melton author of Carry On , Warrior so eloquently said: the call from God doesn’t just come once, if you missed it the first time (or the second or the third) he will find a way to reach you. To offer you that door again to see if you are ready.

I was clearly ready.

Up until that point in my life change had never my friend. Since the same old hadn't worked for me in years, it was time to try something new. When you hit rock bottom the only way to go is up. Changes began in me and around me from that point forward. I won't say the changes were always easy, I experienced many things I never thought I would, and yet I found myself dealing with them in much healthier ways. 

Slowly but surely the broken pieces of me fit back into place --- putting me together in a way I had never been before. Or at least in a way that I did not ever remember being. Creating a better version of me. A more authentic, stronger, happier me.

There is no doubt grace finds a way in through the actions of others, through unexpected acts of kindness and sometimes even through what seems to be a hopeless situation.

For most of my life I feared rock bottom. Now I see it was the solid ground I needed to get to before beginning my ascent.

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I never knew how much extra weight I carried, until I let it go.

Do you know that forever---or at least ever since I can remember anyway, I have been unable to float? It made swimming hard because how can you do that if you consistently sink? I gave up on swimming in proper form years ago and created a kind of doggie-paddle-kick to make my way across the water. Honestly it didn't seem that unusual to me as my mom has always complained of the same inability to float.

This past summer on a still and sunny morning, something miraculous happened. I learned to float again.

My explanation for the sink effect is that I allowed life to weigh me down. I'm guessing most of it came from the mean voice in my head, the one who heard every criticism from the outside world (ever inferred or received by direct comment), and the one who glossed over every compliment I ever received.

In my study of personal energy through reiki, reading and meditation, I now understand that emotions, old emotions especially, can be stored in our physical bodies. Forever, if we let them reside there. They create roadblocks to our free flowing energy, which can eventually lead to physical ailments, and/or they can make us heavy and weigh us down. Everyone carries some of this extra emotional weight, oftentimes without even knowing it. Apparently I carried a lot of it.

I let go of most of it this past year. Some of it in big emotional chunks --just ask my boys--they learned to stop asking what was wrong and just give me an awkward pat or a hug if there were signs of a recent crying jag. And there were small releases in the form of sighs, deep breaths, or an intention to cut ties to someone or something ---that led to soft, slow tears or moist eyes. Some of the tears I shed were happy ones resulting from the letting go.  And some came from dealing with the big chunks of sadness, regret and shame that moved on out. Those were the heavy tears.

No matter what kind of a release they were, the act of letting go felt better in my body. Both physically and mentally.

I felt lighter, freer and afterwards, thought maybe I could actually breathe a bit more fully.

Learning to float again was a benefit to the letting go. The day this summer when I realized I could finally float on top of the lake again; I didn't want to stop. If not for my friend Sue Ann being with me, I might have stayed in there all day experimenting with the feeling of sinking slowly as the air left my lungs and feeling myself slowly rise to the surface when I breathed in fully again.

It was lovely. It was empowering. I felt very much like a kid again.

For years I unconsciously sabotaged my own ability to float. When I'd feel myself start to drift downward, instead of trusting in the process and breathing slowly and deeply to refill my lungs with air, I'd flail about in panic and I'd sink. Somewhere along the way I stopped trusting my own ability to rise back up.

Fear held me down. Faith now helps me float.

If I can do it, so can you.

Let it go. Let go of all the things that hold you back. Like dead limbs; drop them. Think of it as clearing the clutter from the 'inside' of you.

Since relearning to float, spontaneity shows her face more often in my life. She's become a regular visitor -- reminding me to stop what I am doing and go for a walk with the trees or to step away from the computer and appreciate some of the natural beauty outside my window. She's less serious, and she's way more forgiving than Control, who used to rule my world. 

Is it time to let go of that which holds you down?