Turning Tables

As my regular readers know, I love me some Adele. She makes me almost like being in a space where I can feel what she's singing about in songs like this one:

Close enough to start a war
All that I have is on the floor
God only knows what we're fighting for
All that I say, you always say more

I can't keep up with your turning tables
Under your thumb I can't breathe

So, I won't let you close enough to hurt me
No, I won't rescue you to just desert me
I can't give you the heart you think you gave me
It's time to say goodbye to turning tables
To turning tables

...Almost. It still sucks, even with Adele singing her empathy. So I'm dealing with the pain the best way I know how: lots of yoga combined with a conscious effort to allow myself to feel what I'm feeling. During class today, the teacher talked about letting go. She said: "Maybe you're holding on to someone who isn't meant for you. Let them go, and what is meant for you will show up. That's how it works."

This, of course, made me cry, but I tried to make room for the possibility that she is right. With one caveat: I can support the idea, as difficult as it is, that the New Englander and I were not meant to stay together, not meant to marry, not meant to have children together. It isn't easy to get my head around that, not to mention my heart, but I can make room for that possibility:

Under haunted skies I see you (ooh)
Where love is lost your ghost is found
I braved a hundred storms to leave you
As hard as you try, no, I will never be knocked down, whoa

I can't keep up with your turning tables
Under your thumb I can't breathe

So, I won't let you close enough to hurt me,
No, I won't rescue you to just desert me
I can't give you the heart you think you gave me
It's time to say goodbye to turning tables
Turning tables

I can't, however, support the idea that he wasn't meant for me at all. I do believe we came together for important reasons and we both healed a lot during our time together. I'll be better able to recognize the love I want and need thanks to love we shared, and I'll be less likely to give myself away, too:

Next time I'll be braver
I'll be my own savior
When the thunder calls for me
Next time I'll be braver
I'll be my own savior
Standing on my own two feet

Yep, that's where I'm standing right now. And I'm grateful for the grounding that allows standing on my own two feet to feel solid, if a little sad at the moment...