A reminder for myself.
“It’s not enough to be temporarily relieved from our emotional and mental discomfort- we need to learn from it and let it wake us up. All of our mental, emotional, and somatic reactions are wake-up calls, little alarm bells that let us know that we are in the grips of ignorance.”
I want to share and connect through my experiences. But the shame-filled voices that have squandered my soul are the same…don’t dwell, get over it, everyone has their shit, everyone suffers, you aren’t special, speaking about it only makes it linger, get out of a victim mindset. Yet when the experiences you are healing from are neurologically engraved into your being in more intense ways than I care to explain, being told this is denying myself an entire experience. And, we are entitled to experience our lives in order to improve upon things for generations to come. (After all, judgement of such is a sign that we have things to heal within ourselves….I know this first-hand).
My full on, raw and messy truth: I have been battling my demons. For a decade plus… running. Hiding. Escaping. Chasing. Denial. Blank. Flat. Empty. Messy. Wanting to disappear.
Before that battle, it was chasing highs. Wins. Glory. I had one purpose. I was good for one thing. All of these came with a side of the darkest pain, the hardest nights. Phone calls for help made from a bathroom floor, crouched in a corner in fits. Shocked. Confused. Then I fled. I left. I ran away… I couldn’t face the pain alongside the glory anymore. Flashbacks. Visions. Demons. No… it couldn’t be. No way. Attempted to start over, running from that which haunted me. I moved 7 times. Read every Brené Brown excerpt possible, picking up the Bible from time-to-time even though I didn’t get it, seeking to justifying my life. Lost 30 pounds. No periods. Blurry thoughts. Therapy, therapy some more. Chased the wrong types of highs yet again. Sweat my heart out at night until my linens were fully drenched. Broke some bones from stress, contracted gnarly infections in my leg, concussed…because well.. the body knows to tell you to slow down to see first. Then, I got a glimpse of love, a glimpse of myself, and per usual, ran from it. What I was holding onto, I was blocking out. I blocked. it. all. out. That was my superpower, after all.
Well as I predicted, that which I ran from will continue to confront me until it is done with me, until I am done with it. So here I am, a decade later, finally walking head-first into the gnarliest ride of my life. I have kicked and screamed in the safest corner of my house, cried and choked on my tears and been entirely unrecognizable at moments. I have been in total denial of my patterning. Resisting. I have cringed at the realizations, all of which involve one common theme: my worthiness.
Someone asked me what it would take for me to own my experiences. I didn’t necessarily have an answer right away, but I am starting to realize it all surrounds releasing shame. To savor those that see you, all the way through your bones and physical self to peer into the depths of who you are without anything else defining you. It takes asking for help, declaring that you are willing to face your shit once and for all. Again, it takes becoming real with your shame and forgiving yourself, because you did what you could with what you had at the time and now, its time to do better.
I don’t want to be perfect. I don’t want to have it all figured out. I don’t want to be fake - waving my hand to the world anymore, bullshitting and telling everyone I am fine. Few scratches- all good. I want to be real. I want to allow myself to see that I am a human being that is worth more than what I produce. I want to embrace my growth, even if only a few handfuls of people on the world will ever know the depths of the experiences. I want to confront it, and rather than run and hide, I want to show up and greet it with a (hesitant) yet warm embrace. And yes, I want to freaking smile with all of the goodness behind it.
So…who am I without my story? I ask myself daily. I am realizing I am a bright ball of light, an intuitive energy, marinating in desire to love myself more. Maybe this period is a rite of passage. Maybe just the first one. Or maybe, I have been walking through the dark hallways with a blindfold on, albeit hopeful, smiling…and now I am peeking out now to show my face to the world and recognize that I am worthy of love and existence, beyond what my story has been. Maybe it’s a door.
The beauty is that nothing is known, nothing is permanent, nothing is forever. But love is eternal, for self and others. And on the days where I sit in that corner, stuck in my dark hole and saying “NO” to everything that could be beautiful, I sit with the souls that are right there telling me to keep showing up. Telling me they love me. Sharing with me that no matter how horrible I think I am in those moments, that I have nothing to be ashamed of and the world of myself to embrace. Telling me it’s not too late to heal from things that were horrible. Maybe that is okay to spend time caring for myself, and that is not selfish. So no, I won’t apologize, instead I want to show you love and gratitude. You know who you are. I love you.
To anyone that feels their inner-shit isn’t worthy of both confrontation and love, I see you. And, to anyone fearful to face things that still show up in your patterning to this day- you are not alone. Yes, you story is important. And, you are beautiful in existence just as you are. The entire purpose of walking the path of this life is to allow what shows up to show up on our timeline, and to recognize that regardless of what that is- you are worthy of love.
