Yesterday night when everything became silent I found myself wanting to cry. Do you know those moments in which you think you are over something that happened, but you are not totally there yet? I think that’s what was going on with me last night. I suddenly missed people who are no longer in my life but who used to make me smile, laugh, and be healthily silly. As it has been my practise, I let myself cry. I stayed with the feeling and I did my best to own it. When this happens, I always remember a memorable scene from the movie Eat, Pray, Love, in which Richard from Texas advises Liz to own her feelings and let herself miss her last crush. He tells her to miss him, to send him love and light, but then to drop it too (I did a recent video about these two magical words – “drop it”!).
And that’s what I did. I dropped it, but I also took a step further. If I was missing the people and how they used to make me feel, then I needed to find a way to create those feelings for myself. I grabbed my phone, I opened Spotify, and I picked a playlist. I cried to sad (but hot!) Kizomba songs until I had enough of crying. Then something changed.
Although I’m the worst person in the world dancing this kind of songs, the rhythm got into my bones, and so did my feelings. Instead of having them lingering only in my head, as usual, I embodied them by dancing myself off with the lights out. I danced, and danced, and danced, and danced. Of course, I changed the playlist in a matter of minutes to the best dance music songs as sad feelings gave place to ecstasy and an immense desire to be emotionally free. By then, I was smiling and laughing for feeling so silly. My room became an authentic dance floor and the light through my window the best special effect for the moment.
In the end, I managed to give myself what I was missing, and I also realised that the world is now indeed my oyster. That thought alone should be enough to shake myself off and remind me that it’s time to accept that I’m no longer a caterpillar. I have a beautiful pair of wings and a pair of mystic green eyes to match with. What the hell am I and you waiting for? The time is now. We can still feel bad, and if we do, we really must, but our life is changing. We are growing. We are evolving. We are owning the most sacred version of ourselves. The path is a bit murky, but to be a butterfly we need to endure the time (and pain) of transformation.
PS: The last song playing yesterday night was Life by Des’ree. I used to watch the videoclip of this song at my grandmother’s house. I would be fascinated with the butterflies on it and dream of a happier future. I was 9 years old then and had no clue that my own name means butterfly in Greek.