Matters of the Wounded Heart

Last year, I published a book called The Rescue You Program: How to Improve Your Life and Reinvent Your Love after an Affair, this being a personal experience for me. The affair in my marriage happened four years ago, but I can recall the emotional roller coaster I rode as if I was on it yesterday. The first chapter in my book, Shock and Circumstance, is led by this song lyric:

” . . . this sweet madness, oh this glorious sadness, that brings me to my knees.” –Angel by Sarah McLachlan

Oh, that song. It was in my ear often back then and it still showers peace over my heart when I hear it now. In the immediate aftermath of an affair, when you’ve realized that everything that was, isn’t, anymore . . . It’s tragic and there is grief. Since my own experience, I have learned to love grief. It is your body’s natural cleansing and it washes over you as you mourn the loss of something. It can be beautiful and transformational.

For several months after I published, I heard no reader feedback. My book still remains review-less on Amazon.com. I told myself, “No news is good news,” but frankly, I had no idea how people were feeling about The Rescue You Program. Until recently. Comments and emails started crawling in, and they’re coming from real-life readers in real-life situations.

When I receive a Rescue You reader comment, fireworks go off in my heart. I write back, saying more than I probably should. I tell them “great work,” and “what a traumatic time for you,” and “I’m so proud,” and “all the best.” But what I feel–what I’d say if it could get the whole message across would be:

I love you so much.

First of all, I’m thrilled and thankful that people read my book. That, in itself, fills my heart. However, the fact that these women contact me? Well, I’m honored beyond words. I often compare people who face difficult life struggles with  the caterpillar-butterfly transformation. Did you know that when a caterpillar enters a cocoon, it doesn’t simply sprout wings? Instead, the caterpillar dissolves into sticky liquid form and then rebuilds itself as a butterfly. I can close my eyes and know that feeling–that liquid form-feeling. It’s vulnerable, sweet, and the absolute truth.

When readers write to me, I know that in a matter of long months, or short years, they will hardly recognize that old, caterpillar-self of theirs. They’ll think, when I was a caterpillar, I never even knew butterflies existed! But the one thing us butterflies will never, ever forget? The sweet madness of our cocoon and the glorious sadness of the transformation.

Love . . . in liquid form.

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10 Comments

Filed under relationships, The Rescue You Program

10 responses to “Matters of the Wounded Heart

  1. Lisa! I had no idea you were a published author! Congratulations on your book. You should put a photo and blurb of your book on your home page so everyone will see it. It would only make you more even that much more interesting to us readers.

  2. You wrote a book?? That is so amazing!! 🙂

  3. What a beautiful insightful post!

  4. Michelle

    Dear Lisa, thanks for your timely, gooey post. I’m just a year out, we’re still separated, and still both in so much pain, the tiniest conflict seems to splatter goo every which way. We want to recover, but it some days seems so hopeless. Your post gave me hope for this night at least, and I am grateful.

  5. There is so much power in tragedy and sadness and grief. I wouldn’t give mine up for the world.

  6. Visiting from SITS! What a perfect analogy to use when describing the transformation you go through.

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