Winter Solstice: Doing the Unstuck

Copyrighted by Lorna Tedder. Originally published in Third Degree Below.

It’s the Winter Solstice, which literally translates “sun stoppage.” For most people, they think of this time in relation to birth—the birth of God, of the Year King, of a new year—but for me, it’s often been about the death of something, too.

Attract Him Back

There is this Winter  Solstice  when the death is my dad’s. But it’s  also the death of an old way of thinking and the passing away of many old limitations I’ve put on myself. Winter Solstice is one of those points where I assess the time since the last such event. I am becoming unstuck, especially in this past turn of the wheel of the year. Other  Winter   Solstices  have  been  just  as  disjointed, though I’ve celebrated  them for only the past decade or less.

There was the one Winter  Solstice  when  I tried  to share a public celebration in Pensacola with my atheist ex, but when he realized there were religious overtones versus strictly scientific ones, he became upset and we didn’t go. It was the death of a dream that I’d ever be able to share that part of myself with him or be able to be myself fully with him as my mate.

There was the one Winter Solstice when I came home from work to find a “non-select” notice, meaning I didn’t get the promotion I’d really wanted and that my boss had alluded to as mine if I did certain work. He’d waited until the                  last day before Christmas      holidays—nearly               a month—to tell me, so that I’d be “over it” by the time he saw me again in January. It was the death of a dream for my career, even though I did get promoted later by a different boss. A lot of my enjoyment and hope for my career field died that night, but my girls climbed into the hammock in the back yard and lay close to me, comforting me that evening as we looked at the moon.

There was  the  one  Winter  Solstice  when  our  little Westie died.  She’d been a part of the family for a long time. The girls and I sat in the back yard and talked and cried for a long time. I was the one who had to sign the papers to have her euthanized. Before then and after, I never heard my ex cry more for anything than he did for our Lindsay  when she died. She touched a place in him that I never could, and had it not been for her, I probably wouldn’t  have known it existed in him. Her death made for a very somber holiday for us all.

There was the one Winter Solstice when I knew my marriage was over but I refused to let go. Even though I couldn’t acknowledge  it yet, I  knew in my heart that it was the death of a dream of a life with a partner who understood me and could open himself to me. I had always loved  the winter holiday season and had decorated with gusto—often putting lights on the house alone and once giving myself a bad case of Achilles’ tendonitis by climbing up  ladders  in freezing  weather. That  year,  I  didn’t decorate.  I didn’t feel like celebrating  and I was tired of being   responsible   for   all   the   festivity,   so   I   just… stopped…and let family members ask me when I was going to decorate and why not and what  was wrong with me. The girls put up the lights that year.

There was  the  one  Winter  Solstice  two  years  ago, when I was newly divorced and acknowledging  the death of an old way of life and  looking forward to rebirthing into a new life. I’d made a valiant start, even having a little Winter Solstice cookout and inviting friends over. Everything held so much promise at that time, but it all became…stuck…when I least  expected  it to. Stopped.  A stoppage of the sun. We were all so stuck in our old pain and wanting to shed it but not being able to move on.

Last Winter Solstice, things certainly  felt stuck. Nothing seemed to  be moving,  and in fact, it only became further pinned down. The thing I wished  for with the passing of that Solstice was change, change for the better, for things to become  unstuck  and get moving again as they had been around right after my divorce was final and a whole new world seemed  to be waiting.  Last year,  I vowed to risk everything and focused on the word manifest.

I will definitely admit that things have changed for the better. Not the  way I would have wanted it. Not at all. Some of the things holding me back were things I really loved. There was a lot of turmoil and hurt. I have a better understanding of it now, in light of the Law of Attraction.

It took years, but I attracted some major changes into my life, ones  that would provide the results I wanted— the freedom to be myself and for people to love me for who I am, the freedom to have a mate in my  life who would really “get” me on every level, the freedom to see my  dreams come to fruition, the freedom  to be happy without  being  responsible  for other  people’s  happiness 24/7. Those changes were major upheavals, and I have a few more changes left before I’m done. So yes, I attracted change into my life.

I was also, coming out of a long marriage where I’d been wrong about so many things, feeling insecure about my intuition and my decision-making skills. I needed a lot of  validation,  verification,  confirmation,  support.  I  attracted that, too.

Lots of it. Not always in a good way.

The same people who were great about giving support during my last years of marriage were used to giving me advice—and  lots  of  it—when  it  wasn’t  necessarily  the level or type I really needed anymore. No one talks about how  the Law  of  Attraction  can mean                      no    longer “vibrating” at the same frequency as the people around you  and how they don’t understand the changes in you and don’t want you to change and how some people will do things they shouldn’t to keep everything status quo.

Every time I’ve made a major change in my life over the past few years, I’ve had to leave behind people I once thought would always be  part  of my life because I was attracting  something  different  into  my  life.  I  may  be bringing new and different people and experiences  into my life, but it’s still sad to say goodbye to the old.

Somehow  I  see  the  butterfly  emerging  and  flying away, not sticking around where it used to be a wingless worm.

So this past year, when I so wanted to clear away all impediments to the future I have wanted, it’s happened. Painfully. And a new way of thinking is settling in. Before the next Winter Solstice, there’ll be a lot of change in my life, this time brought forward by return of love into my life and the joy I’ve been manifesting.

This year, this Winter Solstice, things are not stopped.

The light is returning, and I’ve become unstuck.


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