Do you truly understand the phrase “you only have one life to live?” I mean really understand that tomorrow isn’t promised?
Personally, I use to struggle with treating life as if each day was my last. To be quite frank, I took that shit for granted. For some selfish reason I believed that I’m “suppose” to be here. It was as if I thought I was untouchable, unbreakable and nothing could happen to me, not even to my family and friends.
But all of that changed in my late 20s. I began to lose my ex-boyfriends that were once my best friend–one died in a car crash and the other was murdered. It was the worse pain one could ever imagine. It felt as if someone had ripped my heart right out of my chest and it hurt like hell. I was confused and lost without a sense of direction. Believe it or not, I was very angry with God. I questioned and wondered if there was really a God because if it was how could the good die young.
My heart was bleeding and my spirit was robbed. I cried until the water in my body went dry. Every time someone said, ” I’m so sorry Carissa. If you need anything, I’m here for you.” I would collapse in their arms and weep like a helpless baby.
As time passed, I was fooling others and myself that I was doing better. I had become so good at managing my emotions well that I was no longer sobbing in public. As a matter of fact, I had created a strong exterior that portrayed that I had it together to only have my spirit crying inside. My body constantly ached with pain and my happiness vanished for months. Sometimes I would just drop to my knees and ask God, “Why? Why so much heartache? How am I going to live?” I could never hear my God’s voice because I wouldn’t keep still long enough to listen. As a result, my hate for living increased, my anger towards everyone was contagious, my sadness for their family deepen, and the pain within my heart, my body and my soul expanded.
One day, I finally got up and decided to read the book Val mailed to me, The Purpose Driven Life. I picked up a pen and wrote in my journal how I was feeling inside. I joined a sister-to-sister circle in search of comfort and understanding through their words. Running became my stress release, as well. As a matter of fact, I started training for a 10k despite the fact that I hated running. I even met with my reverend to seek guidance with prayer, to understand death, and build a relationship with God.
So what becomes of a broken heart? Where can you find peace through the broken pieces? Where do the pieces go? Do they just wither away? Does one ever heal after losing someone?
To be honest, I’m still in search for some of the answers. There is no explicit script to mend a broken a heart. There’s no written manual of instructions or procedures that teaches you how to gain peace from broken pieces, at least not for me. I’m discovering that life has a funny way of teaching you holistic and therapeutic lessons. Therefore, I’m finally going to share my healing journey of Julian and Malik’s death in hopes of discovering the answer to the question I keep asking myself, “what becomes of a broken heart?”