My Lost Vibes

I lost something important to me a few weeks ago. I didn’t misplace it; it was so special to me that I knew exactly where it was every minute of my day. It hadn’t forgotten it; I remembered every detail of it. I didn’t stop paying attention to it; it was part of my daily focus. All I can tell you is that one day I had it in my hands, and the next day I didn’t. It slipped from my fingers before I could catch it, and now I must go forward without it.

How do you search for something you thought you’d never lose?

Here’s the catch. I don’t know which way to go because I lost my compass, the one thing that kept me on the right path and helped guide me back when I veered too closely to either side. It was something that I probably took for granted, something that I thought I could refer to time and time again for many years to come. Every day I would make sure it was with me, and every night I made sure it was tucked away, safe and sound. The last night I remember seeing it, I patted it closely to my heart and quickly fell to sleep. I awoke the following day, feeling unsettled like something was missing. I just hadn’t placed my finger on what that was. I felt a panic– like I should be searching for something, racing towards something. But I just couldn’t figure out what I was running towards yet. All-day long, my hand went to my pocket, and I asked myself repeatedly if I had put my compass somewhere safe. It wasn’t until I felt a cold sweat bead down my back that I realized that I had lost my compass. No matter how hard I tried to keep it with me every single day. No matter how gently I placed it down for safekeeping, I could not hold onto it any longer. It had escaped my clutches and disappeared right in front of me. No matter how hard I looked or how far I retraced my steps, I just could not bring it back. It was gone.

How do you give yourself permission to grieve? Who wrote the manual on the proper way to be sad? Are you allowed to be angry? When will the light turn on again and dispel the dark?

There is one hard lesson I’ve had to face since losing my compass.  I can no longer automatically reach out into the darkness and feel it nestled close to my heart. I cannot glance at it when I sense a fork in the road. I must approach my crossroads on my own now. I must rely on my own instincts now. I cannot be afraid of the shadows that lurk along the edges of my trail. How do I permit myself to grieve my loss? How do I believe it’s okay to be sad, mad, and everything in between? Well, the first thing I must do is this. I must acknowledge that I held my compass in my hands for a very long time, even though I feel cheated out of so many more years. After that, I can start to remember the travels and trips my compass helped me take. I can fill my heart with memories and images of days gone by, and I can archive the smells and scents of places we went. I will always carry an empty pocket where my compass was meant to be. But my heart will someday be whole again.