Make no mistake in this: you feel how you should feel. Do not discount for a second all that arises in you. Curl up with your loneliness and longing. Honour the twisty knots in your belly. Watch closely for the swell and swoon of love. When the warning bell goes off, alert yourself to the ringing. Listen closely when your heart, like a child, expresses its delight and wonder. Sing along to the bellowing of your disappointments. No more of this, where you hush and quiet the still, small voice of your wise sweet soul. At every single moment, your heart is working to keep you alive and well.
That is often the problem - we know not easily how to be silent, and still. Both, together, that is the thing. I know how to be silent for a time, but you can be sure my hands will be kept busy. I can be still, but I will learn to fill the stillness with shouting or chatter or worry (which, I suppose, is not still at all). If we were to be silent and still we would be in the posture to hear it, and feel it - all of the earth resounding in song, and in dance, swaying us, drifting us toward truth, toward Home.
When you feel an earthquake in your heart and through your head and in the rumbling of your general makeup, be it love or leaving, be it the need to speak or the need to be silent, be it the need to go far away or the need to return home, it is my suggestion that you listen to the weather lest you get stuck in the rain.