When I write, I am either feeling something in the moment and it is calling me to put on paper, or I heard something that provoked further insight and compelled me to share with you. I don’t know if you’ve noticed yet or not, but I’m transparent. I’m raw. My intention is to be as real as possible, because selfishly it helps me process and unselfishly I want somebody else to know that none of us are alone.
My editor suggested I maintain a blog to create some traction for my book. He also suggested that when I am called to write that I do so, and then schedule the blog to post at some later date. It’s interesting to see what gets posted when, because often times I am light years away from whatever experience I was having at the time I wrote about it. If you are keeping up, the last blog was one of those moments I am so grateful has passed. The walls were closing in, until they weren’t. Thank God they actually weren’t.
I was in such a dark place, one that I hadn’t seen in many years, and I found myself spiraling. I know a lot about myself. I also know that knowing a lot about myself doesn’t always yield to feeling better or acting better. If anything, I feel worse when engaging in old thinking and behavior because I know what I am doing to myself.
But I can’t always stop.
The voice within is powerful. The
dis-ease at work captivates the false evidence appearing real in such a way
that old stories are brought back to life, and new stories are attached. I found myself narrating a story that I was
unlovable and undeserving of the people I have attracted into my life. I was narrating a story that I was
undesirable and stressful. My narration
was creating thoughts that were starting to turn into words and I wasn’t
benefiting anyone but the dis-ease in creating the “I told you so”
complex.
What is that? That’s the self-sabotage
we can experience when we fundamentally do not believe we are worth it, and
consequently then behave in ways that prove that story true. If you do not believe in your heart of hearts
that you are worthy of true love, then it has been my experience that you will
only find people that cannot love you in the way that you deserve. You will only find scenarios that leave you
drier, thirstier and alone. And insane. It has also been my experience that you will
continue to behave in ways that prove your demons true, until you reach a
threshold of pain that is no longer manageable for you. Maybe.
A way out, I have found, is acting my way into feeling better. Despite the narrations I was believing, I still relied on my foundation of tools I have come to familiarize myself and trust over the years. I still told people what I was feeling. I still showed up for my commitments. I still called when I said I would. I still took care of my animals, my body, and my house. I kept asking to be shown the truth until I could start to see it. I asked to be shown the truth about myself and what was happening, not the truth that I was narrating.
And then slowly, it started to happen. I started to see that I wasn’t alone. I started to see that I wasn’t unlovable. I started to see that the people I have attracted into my life are there because of who I am, not what I think I look like or how I think I perform. They are here because they love me, and it isn’t conditional. And that blows my ever-loving mind. I believe that I am partnered with the best man I have yet to meet, and God didn’t do that to break my heart. I believe that I am surrounded by the best friends I could have, and God didn’t do that to deceive me.
I leaned in. I leaned in and I asked for support. I leaned in and I told my bare naked truth as I was experiencing it in the moment. I leaned in and felt how fucked up I felt, for as long as I needed to feel that way. It used to last days and weeks and months and my behavior only prolonged it. I wouldn’t lean in and I wouldn’t trust and I wouldn’t share and I wouldn’t get out of my own way.
But not today. Today I lean in and I show up as soon as I can. My tolerance for pain has lessened to a point where I am no longer willing to stay in my own way. I trust that as awful as it is right now, that it is not permanent and I am supported by more love than I can comprehend and that is because I am worth it.
And by leaning in, overnight – it was gone. The day it took was the longest it’s taken in years, but it reminded me of how precious the people around me are and how delicate we can be. It reminded me to be compassionate and sincere in all of my affairs. It reminded me of how insidious and unrelenting the magnifying mind can be. It reminded me how big love is and how much bigger it needs to be if I want to get better. It also reminded me that my old bullshit isn’t as far away as I’d like, and that’s OK. One day at time.
Today, I choose leaning into it instead of running away. I am choosing trust, and love. I am also choosing that for you, and will continue to choose it for you until you can trust enough to start choosing it for yourself. That is my responsibility. Others did it for me, and now I can do it for them.
And sometimes, we take turns. Thank you, for taking my turn this time.
❤️