Over the past few months I have been stretched by nearly every possible emotion. I have felt immense gratitude for all the people who have held me during this time offering me their homes, their help, their listening ears; radiant joy in sitting as the sun fades having conversations with the people I love; love… just pure expansive love for all the beauty in my life and those who are part of it in such an authentic way; betrayal that has made me question everything about who I trust and myself – my beauty, my values, my decisions; anger at life going “wrong,” at being stuck for so long, at the way I’ve been treated; guilt for what I could have done differently, for not being good enough, for “failing” others and myself; disgust in other people’s actions; exhaustion for going through so many emotions all at once while still taking the time to live my life; pride in myself for getting into graduate school, getting out of a marriage that wasn’t serving either of us, and choosing to rewrite my story.
That’s just a sliver of what I’ve been feeling, but I’m allowing it. It’s my time of molting and I’m shedding, removing my skin, and sitting raw and vulnerable making space for the new growth.
I have a tendency to choke down what I’m feeling, put on my armor, and leap out to defeat the world. I’ll be the first to say I’m resilient as fuck. We can even go with a desert metaphor here. I’m resilient as a spiky little cactus. I just won’t die, I survive. I’ll keep on going even though circumstances might say otherwise. I’ve moved an entire apartment by foot by myself; I’ve packed up a home in two days to get to my grandfather’s funeral driving 1,138 miles without sleep to be at the wake on time; I’ve stared depression and OCD in the face and survived their attacks… and they didn’t make it easy; I graduated from an Ivy League with many sleepless nights under my belt; I kept going to work and travelled to Boston even with immense physical pain that didn’t subside for weeks; I lived for two years without a bed and only $18 a month for “fun” as an AmeriCorps living on poverty wage.
I’m done with it though.
I had to live those stories to survive. But I don’t need to anymore.
Here’s the thing. If you keep on pushing down the emotions without realizing what’s really going on, you keep reliving the same frustrating story. You never recognize the patterns. You never see the sources of your pain. You never take the time to see how you can rewrite what has been written over and over again.
This time is sacred.
Basking in this rawness, sitting in the grit, taking off my armor and stepping into my naked newness… it’s sacred. It means I choose what’s next. It means I no longer choose the story of “life has to be difficult” or “when life is going smoothly something bad always happens.”
I’m moving from surviving to thriving.
Simply surviving no longer serves me. That just keeps me right where I was before, stagnated, unhappy, exhausted, and unable to move forward.
I choose to ask for help, I choose to receive all the blessings God sends my way, I choose to create more ease, I choose to be my real self and shine, I choose to step into my very being again.
It doesn’t have to be so damn difficult. It’s all how I respond to it. And I choose to respond to every challenge, every fear, every blockade with breath, surrender, observation, and finding the ease and joy with the solutions that come.
These are pieces of my new story and they come in vignettes as it is being written.
What story are you re-writing?
Respond in the comments below, or if this is on your mind and you’re figuring it out, send me an e-mail at email@example.com and schedule a free 50-minute consultation session with me to explore your story and how it can shift to be exactly what you desire.