Sacred Ground: Rooted at the Threshold
Endings have a way of finding me. So do beginnings. Standing at thresholds I choose to cross, or am pushed through. An endless cycle of endings and beginnings, where different moments are strung together.
In 2019, my then husband announced that he wanted a divorce. Lightning struck, and everything around me crumbled. Our ten year anniversary was right around the corner. I didn’t want a divorce and I wasn’t ready to give up. We met with a marriage counselor and I hoped they could help us save our marriage. Instead, it revealed that the foundation I thought was there wasn’t. There was nothing to stand on. Nothing to build from. Our relationship was over.
On the autumnal equinox of 2019, my divorce was finalized. A new beginning, a threshold crossing. I was adjusting to a new home life and wading through the muck. Untethered, I stepped into my healing journey.
The foundation I thought I had built for myself didn’t exist. Where was my sovereignty? Where was my autonomy? Loss was everywhere.
People tried to fix me, dumping unsolicited advice and expectations on me. I was doing everything “wrong” and taking “too long” as I navigated this dark abyss. I was honest about where I was and made it clear that I needed to grieve in my own way. This was my journey and I needed space. Space to feel my feelings, trust my intuition, and build my own map. This was sacred ground.
In this liminal space, I planted seeds and began building my foundation. Solid, sturdy, and safe. From it, I created a sacred container, a space to hold myself with care.
For years I couldn’t talk about my marriage. My palms would get sweaty, my heart would pound, my mind would race, replaying everything that happened, over and over and over again. My entire body was unsettled.
Slowly, I started talking about it with close friends and with people I met who were in similar relationships. Sharing what I’d been through was helping me heal. I finally felt safe enough to speak. It wasn’t easy though. Some days I would come home and crumble, tears streaming down my face, exhausted, trembling, and wondering when these feelings would end.
In December I was sitting in my car with a close friend, fully present as they talked about their relationship struggles. I’d been walking beside them for months, providing support and holding space. As I sat there, I realized my body was neutral. My mind was steady. I was surprised, overjoyed, and relieved. I crossed another threshold, out of a liminal space, ready for something new.
One month later, I crossed another threshold and started dating. It had been twenty years. Four weeks of conversations, text messages, phone calls, quality time, presence, poetry, handwritten notes, hugs, kisses, and cuddles, ended in a text message on an early Thursday morning, after five days of silence.
The words strung together on my phone felt sterile. This person who pursued me, now saying they had zero time for new people and new relationships. Where did they go? Where was the warmth, sweetness, and tenderness that was so real when we were together?
Jolted out of one liminal space into another, I chose not to react. They made a choice, drew a line, and I honored it. I let them go. There wasn’t anything to fix.
This was a rite of passage. I am so grateful for the time I spent with this amazing human: their vulnerability, the laughs we shared, their presence and their love. This relationship was beautiful as it unfolded, without expectations. I enjoyed every moment we shared with neutral love, fully rooted in my own being, my autonomy, and my sovereignty.
And what a gift, to glimpse possibility in the messy and the beautiful.
Nothing wasted.
XO,
Naomi
I’m curious what’s coming up for you. Have you experienced any lightning strike moments that catapulted you into a liminal space? How did you navigate them and what did you learn about yourself?
I’d love to hear from you.