As I contemplated the topic of this essay I at first thought the title would be “grief” for that is the emotion I feel most acutely now. But as I thought more and more about what I would write, the phrase “dark night of the soul” kept pushing its way into my consciousness. Perhaps the two are related – when grief is so profound that it interrupts one’s every waking hour, then is it so far a stretch to think our soul has fallen into that dark night where lessons are revealed and, painfully, learned?
I have journeyed into the dark night of the soul more than once in my life, so I know this is only a temporary journey. The precipitator for each previous journey has fallen into one or two categories – an emotional injury or pain, and a situation which is beyond my control. Many times the two categories overlap. Sometimes they are indistinguishable. And while the present journey into the dark night of the soul has certainly been prompted by emotional pain and a situation beyond my control, this time there is an overlay of grief.
It took me a while to figure out the grief part. I thought I was just depressed over the current circumstances of my life. But no, this is not depression. This is a grieving for a life that I wish I had not chosen, and a grieving of the knowledge that the consequences of choices made decades ago may preclude me from living an authentic life for the years remaining to me.
Regretting the past is deadly, for none of us can change it. As much as I might wish this to be possible, I can’t go back in time and change what I chose all those years ago. I didn’t have the self-knowledge at 30 that I now have at 70. I understand why that young woman made those choices. I just wish she had made different ones.
I know there is light on the other side. Light, peace made, and hope restored. But the journey itself is just fucking awful. And I am right in the middle of it.
One day at a time…