Lancing the wounds of the spirit

I have been the tiniest bit busy these past few weeks, with looking for a new job to replace the one which is ending in June and with my husband and I making an offer on a house.  For reasons that are not important in the grand scheme of things I hit a breaking point earlier today.  One too many stressful demands were made on me, and I could no longer move forward. 

It was in this state -- emotionally ragged and epiritually empty hearted -- that I sat at my dining room table trying to finish an old embroidery project and listening to music (after several false starts I finally settled on Sarah Stockwell's "Dark of the Moon", for those curious).  Singing along with the music was helping me somesomewhat, but it was still just a bandaid over the wound, you know?  Then I reached a particularly beautiful song, and stopped stitching or singing in order to just listen to it, letting the words bathe me like a waterfall.  Something inside me was cracking open, but I didn't fully realize what until it reached what has always been my favorite part of the song: the last line in the last verse -- "I am your annihilation come to make peace."  Something rose up from inside, some deeper understanding that I still can not entirely put into words, and I began to sob.  The crying only lasted for a few moments, but in those moments I realized that I would be ok.  That my annihilation, my shadow, *would* someday come, *would* someday make peace with me.  That it's ok to struggle, ok to still be wandering lost in the woods, and that perhaps that is exactly where I am meant to be, perhaps where I am meant to *always* be.  And that wouldn't be such a bad thing.