#178 When you let yourself feel it all- Part 2

Longing, silence, and healing

If you missed part 1, read it here to understand the context behind this piece

"You need to stop. You aren’t in a 90s Bollywood movie!! This isn’t a connection. It is obsession and it is unhealthy," my inner voice scolded me as I picked up my phone for the 486th time that day.

My anxious patterns were surfacing again.

Three days had passed since that unforgettable evening. We had exchanged texts, shared songs from our playlists, and even swapped a few Instagram Reels.

But unlike me, she wasn’t someone who communicated much over text. Her replies were scarce and inconsistent, or at least that is how my mind perceived it.

I kept checking my phone every 10 minutes, anticipating her messages. I struggled to focus on work. I wanted to relive those waves of feelings I had experienced on my way home that night.

A few days before meeting her, I had written about being open to receiving love. I had met her just a day after I had published that edition. It felt like a response from the universe, a quiet nod from my spirit guides as if acknowledging my readiness to let the love in.

So, I found myself longing to be seen again the way I thought she had seen me. To be desired and embraced again the way I thought she did. I wanted to see her, talk to her, know her, maybe even start a life with her eventually.

Yeah, I am aware that I was way off my center.

I was not thinking straight. It was obsessive, even borderline destructive. I was aware that this was not what genuine connection felt like. The initial spark and chemistry do not necessarily mean a deep connection.

I had to come back to my center. My meditation cushion and the journal were calling me.

So, unlike my favorite Bollywood movies, instead of singing songs of longing and dreaming about the girl who had thrown me off my center, I decided to go quiet and once again, let myself feel it all.

What started as a quick body scan stretched longer than I expected.

I became aware of the loop of thoughts buzzing in and out of my head. Instead of resisting, I let them float in the sky of my consciousness. I noticed the restlessness in my chest and breathed into it, feeling my body loosen. My shoulders ached with a pinching heaviness, so I breathed into them, whispering, "I trust myself to go through this too." A gray ball of grief sat around my heart. I placed my hand over it and reminded myself, "I am here for you."

Before I could make sense of it, tears flowed from my eyes.

I reached for my journal. For the next 50 minutes, I let my emotions flow onto the page, blue ink staining white paper. My pen moved swiftly as if guided by unseen hands. I almost felt my spirit guides surrounding me, holding me, nudging me to keep going.

By the time I filled 16 pages, I felt at home in my body again.

The buzzing restlessness had settled into quiet knowing. My chest opened. The intense longing softened into deep gratitude. My shoulders felt lighter. The grief that once sat heavy in my heart had loosened its grip, leaving only traces of trust and love.

I was once again centered.

Something shifted within me in that hour. A quiet but undeniable knowing washed over me:

Maybe she didn’t come into my life because I was ready to receive love. Maybe she came to remind me that love was already within me. That I was already whole. She was a mirror that helped me see and feel the depths of my own heart in a new light. She awakened my longing not for her alone, but for the fullness of life itself.

Relief. A quiet, steady relief. I felt a deep sense of gratitude that I went through this experience.

In that moment, I knew I could hold myself in any situation that might happen.

Maybe this wasn’t meant to last. Maybe she was just passing through my life, a catalyst for something deeper within me. Or maybe, just maybe, we were meant to be together eventually, growing side by side, holding up a mirror for each other.

Either way, I trusted myself. I was already loved and whole. Already enough.

Two days after I had this realization, I reached out to her, this time grounded and centered. She had mentioned earlier that she wasn’t feeling well, so I just wanted to check in.

She didn’t answer my call but sent a text instead, "I’m sorry, I’m a bit mentally occupied. I know I’m should be talking to you to get to know you better. But I’m not able to do it naturally. I need some time."

Had I received this message just two days earlier, I might have ended up spiraling down. I’d have crafted entire storylines in my head, replaying our moments together like a tragic romantic film with songs of self-pity, rejection, and broken heart as I'd have wondered,"What was that about? Does she not like me? Was it just for one day? Am I not healed enough to finally receive the love? Did I scare her off with that awkward hug? I should stop watching rom-coms. I should have never been so expressive. Did I text too much? But I did not really. "

But I had already changed the station. My inner Self was now the one playing the music.

So, my reaction was different.

Instead of spiraling into self-doubt, I felt a quiet wave of kindness, concern, and maybe even love sweeping through me. This was not about me. I can only know myself and experience what arises within me. But I don’t know her story, her past, her traumas, or the lens through which she sees the world.

So, I thanked her for being honest.

I said, "I really appreciate you telling me this. There's no pressure or shoulds when it comes to these things. Please take all the time you need. Whatever you are feeling, I fully respect that. The important thing is to feel okay and safe, within ourselves first and with each other then."

It’s been over a week since I last heard from her.

I no longer check my phone for her messages. The urge to reach out, to check in, has faded, not from resentment, but from acceptance. There’s no waiting, only presence. No clinging, only trust.

I return to my center again and again, reminding myself, not just in my head but feeling it in my body, that I am enough. That I am already loved.

However, I won't lie. Not a day goes by without thinking of her. The ache hasn’t disappeared completely. There’s a quiet longing, a soft wondering. What if? What now? What is meant to unfold from here?

Some nights, my mind drifts, pulling me into a spiral of questions.

Will she ever reply again? Will we really get to know each other? Was she just a temporary gift from my spirit guides, like a so-called Twin Flame, who came to trigger me towards a deeper realization and inner healing? A karmic echo or probably a Venus Retrograde lesson to realize how deeply I can feel and hold a range of emotions within me without projecting them onto one person?

I may never get an answer. And that’s okay.

I choose to trust that whatever is unfolding is exactly as it should be. What’s meant for me won’t pass me by. What’s meant for her won’t pass her by, either.

The longing I feel is proof that I am still human. I’m allowed to miss her, but I do not need to chase it. This longing is mine to hold, not hers to solve. It means that my heart is still open and awake enough to desire deeply and courageous enough to feel it all without running away from anything.

Whether our paths cross again or not, she brought me closer to myself.

That is enough for me to be forever grateful and cherish her in my heart as a divine blessing. :)

Until next time,
Love,
Ved