Sadness & Puppy Dogs

I read something today that helped me continue to keep trying. The idea was that maybe during the pain & hard stuff it is possibly exactly when we are meant to be present. When we are meant to share. We weren't meant to write about all the hard stuff only after we already passed through it. We were meant to show up during the hard moments. To show up, to rise up even if sometimes its just for ourselves. Our sadness is not shameful. Its truthful, honest and real.

Oh sweet self how could you not remember this.

In the mess of things I've become ashamed of myself even though I know better. Even though I know that my sadness, my anger and ways of coping are not to become excuses for hating myself. I know that people won't always understand. And I know that through it all I have to say no to the shame and to the self loathing over and over again. I know that I must always remember to keep on healing. I've been feeling as if this part of my story is where I disappear and do not come back until I'm shiny and bright with joy again. As if my sad and difficulty are the ugly parts and should be hidden and not talked about until they pass. This, I don"t believe to be true but shame is quite convincing. But the whole idea of the difficult parts being the most important time to show up rattles that poop head shame. Shame cannot stand our truth that's why it feeds us lies.

I keep repeating this as a prayer for myself.

I cannot stop trying for it halts my healing.

I cannot hate myself for it halts my healing.

Getting it right will not, should not become the objective.

Healing should always be the chosen journey.

I am still in the depths. I am still overwhelmed. I am still at moments quiet and very sad. But I am growing and becoming. Pain is here breaking us open and giving us a chance to transform. To grow and to become something more. Pain is our fuel not our anchor.

Glennon Doyle Melton's book Love Warrior came out today. !!!!!. She posted on her instagram a part of her interview from her TV appearance interview this morning and explained how showing up all busted up is where shes most comfortable. How perhaps, "Maybe, this all happened to me so I can go out there and be seen in the during" She could have chosen to hide her separation until after but she didn't. Because its all about the during. Showing up during the during is much more helpful to people than showing up after. When our story has the chance to be helpful by being told, we decide to use our pain for healing. How grand.

I Always Come Back

Lately the little girl I take care of throughout the week has been having a hard time with nap time.  Now I know that most kids do but not this little girl. She almost always does not give a huge fuss and goes through nap routine just fine. Well, not so much as of lately because I have been leaving right after I put her down. She has noticed this of course and so lately has been giving me a hard time for nap. It just so happened that this past week I held her close to me and let her know that I always come back tomorrow. “I always come back, remember?” I said. She repeated that and we went on fuss free with our nap routine. Right before closing her bedroom door she said trustingly, thumb in her mouth and all, you always come back. I closed the door getting tears in my eyes. Yeah, I always come back.

This past week I got a very important voicemail. All week I had been waiting for this call to be returned but also dreading it. The message held our future. Unfortunately, it was what my instincts had kept telling me all along. Bad news. The home that we had been promised 3 months ago was now out of reach. The little light of hope we had been protecting to believe this was going to work out fizzled out. I knew it, my instincts are almost always right but still cheerful hope scooched up next to me and how could I resist it. Upon realization of this I let some friends know the news and was graciously met with I’m with yous. Still having to go to work I got dressed and tried to get myself distanced from the reality. Compartmentalize. I unfortunately for the rest of the week was impatient and under energized. I guess that compartmentalize thing doesn’t quite work well enough for me.

I found myself going back to that day of that sweet little girl remembering how I always come back. Don’t we do that too but with other things? I know I do. I know that when disaster strikes my hope is always lingering, whispering, letting me know that it always comes back. When my faith in humanity gets lost over horrible events in the world my faith is always there reminding me that it always comes back. When love is something that seems too hard to participate in its always there throughout my day reminding me not to fret. When doubt, anger and frustration are all that I am stubbornly holding onto then I remind myself that all the things that hold me up will always come back to me. No matter how many times I push it all away. The hard heart was not meant to stay.

One thing I mentioned to my friends upon telling them the news was the hope that they could hold me up because I could not do that for myself that day. Most days it feels like holding myself up with the usual stuff of hope, love and peace is something only other people have the ability and luck to do. But here I am rising up, holding my soul up. There are people all around us, all around the world choosing to continue to be open to the things that are hope, love and peace. 

Hard hearts were not made to stay but to give us time to grieve. Holding ourselves up to continue moving in the world is an absolute strength. There is tremendous courage in allowing our hearts get hard, in throwing tantrums and stopping our good movement in the world because we have to decide to come back. We have to decide to allow the good things to come back and remind us of how important our movement of hope, love and peace in the world really is.

There is so much courage in all of us who have experienced the darkness and continue to move in the world with peace slung on our backs.

The good things always come back. Some might even dare say that they never ever left us.

Sympathy & Empathy And The Wisdom To Know The Difference

There is a voice in my head that keeps telling me to keep quiet. Stop sharing your stories, it says. No more talk about your pain. Everybody is already so tired of you and all those things. Everybody is so tired of the sad you remind them about. Your dragging your friends down. People are tired of your dreary and your worn out-ness. They are tired of your current story. They are tired of you. 

There is a voice in my head and it tells me all those things. It convinces me that its cruelty is all apart of the good honesty that will help me make better decisions. I believe it sometimes. Sometimes its all I can think about. I begin to step away from things I love like writing and creating. Then I step away from the people I love dearly. Sincerely convinced that my friends are better off without me and my stories. They'll be happier without you, the voice says massaging my ego. Then I imagine them happier and better because they aren't being reminded about how frustrating me and my situation are. Its hard to turn back once I do that. Sometimes I leave all things and all the people because of this and it takes days upon days for me to come back. Sometimes a little light in me pops into the picture then scoops my hurt self up reminding me to return to all things love. To which I rebuttle the thought of what if its all true. What if all those cruel things are true?? The light untangles the despair from my ravaged heart and I remember to walk back to all things love. 

Yesterday, I came upon a thought that enlightened me a bit. Sympathy runs out but empathy does not. Perhaps I am looking at the love my friends have for me more as sympathy than the real true stuff. The people that love me don't stay in my life because they feel sorry for me. They don't reach out and buy me food and take me to acupuncture and listen to me rant and give me hugs and kisses because they feel obligated to or at least I hope not. They do it because I believe they've connected to me and my stories and have grown to appreciate me. They love me with the real true stuff not the fluffy surface-y stuff. I certainly wouldn't want the people I love to feel as if my love for them is not real and deep and true. I'm trying really hard to no longer continue letting myself be convinced that I am the exception to true and good things. Having a mantra will help me do this.

This although does not take away from the fact that I have been in this situation for so long now that so many bits and pieces of who I am are no longer available for use. My everything is tired and worn. Spark is something I now lack. I used to get told all the time that my presence was such a light. I don't get told that much now a days. I understand, I get it. After some time the dreariness of my reality becomes a real burden. That is where that cruel little voice gets its fuel to be ignited, from tiny little spaces such as that one. 

Finding the balance to have the honest reality of the human condition and its messiness to be consciously present and also finding the grace to stay and know that its all alright. That I am loved regardless. I am worthy and I am loved and I am beautiful regardless of the mistakes I've made or make. Regardless of the frustration regarding my person and my situation. Regardless of the differences between me and my friends-my people. Re-positioning my self to lean towards grace not only with myself but also for my friends is so so so important. The importance to that is so vital to the health of all my relationships and my mental health.

So leaning towards grace and learning to spot the difference between sympathy and empathy are big big things but we can do hard things. All of us. I believe in that. 

This post most likely wasn't as helpful for you as it was for me but in the small miracle that it has been. Thank you for saying ME TOO even though I won't actually know you did.

Sympathy runs out but empathy does not.

Thanks for reading. 

Courage Is Alive In You

 

Art cred. to Elyse Burden

The urges to write something solid the past few weeks have been pushed aside and out. I let the monster of insecurity win and I didn’t even dare to give it a good fight. I kept shoving down words of people who’ve written about “enough space” down my throat in hopes I’d be reminded of courage. How her being great doesn’t take away from my being great. How there is so much space for all of our lights. Theres enough for us all and there is no “taking away from” or “makes me less than”. Shove. Shove Shove. Why couldn’t I overcome this time? I felt like FEAR was spewing out its normal monologue and instead of interrupting its flow; I sat there jotting it all down like if it was some new found wisdom I couldn’t be without. Sigh. I kept on though with my practice of changing the dialogue and meditating to let go of the unhealthy. I am good--She is good--We are great--There is enough space--No less than--Better together--I matter--Stories matter--I am tough—The divine is everywhere--Courage is alive in you--Courage is alive in you--Courage is alive in you.

Today is a new day and although only morning the day has begun on difficulty. You know when things go completely sideways and slam you to the wall in the process?? Getting yourself to forget the suffocation and get back to normal breathing is a task but we do it. Readjust and keep moving. Readjust then keep moving, yup. I tell almost everyone I converse with “life is hard-so stinkin hard” because truth and everyone needs to be reminded that its not just them. Life is hard, period.

I kept thinking to myself that this part of the story doesn’t really matter. The sprint to the finish line isn’t important because right after it we then begin climbing another mountain. We won’t be there yet, hustle and resilience is still needed. But it is important, every part of our journey is important. Its crucial to learn from our experiences so that we can continue to grow and expand rather than skipping to the end and remaining in our ignorance.  What a waste of experience that can be.

The sprint to the finish line for me right now is; ooof- my hearts beating faster; that our search for housing has begun. With severe discipline, I have saved up just about barely enough for us to begin our search.

I am terrified.

I’ve only shared with two of my soul sisters only because I know the initial reaction is excitement and I am anything but that. Don’t get me wrong the idea of moving forward is a good thing but its been a long time comin’ and things never go as planned. Readjust and move forward, remember? Yeah, me neither, shutup. I remember when I told that soul sister of mine that I had saved up enough and she smiled so big and said “That takes a lot of discipline. I’m so proud of you.” And I remember feeling like my soul just took the biggest, deepest breath of relief. That was a good thing but I feel the volcano about to erupt and it won’t be pretty. Big changes. Lots of hard decisions. A lot of new.

 I’ve learned that not only do I GOT THIS but so do the people who love me. They GOT THIS, too. Life is hard but we can do hard. Hard things we can do. Alone? Yes. Together? That too. Asking for help doesn’t have to mean that we don’t or can’t stand on our two feet it’s the decision we make when we know we don’t really have to. Sometimes we do things on our own and other times we don’t. Our strength doesn’t diminish based on how many times we ask for help. That’s the lie, don’t believe that lie. I know I can do this alone and I know you can do this alone but the awesome part is knowing that we don’t really have to. Our strength isn’t defined by a thing; our strength just IS. I’m talking to all of my fellow humans who don’t know how to let our egos-walls-fears come down so we do it all ourselves. All of it, all of the things. I reasonate with you so much. I’m you and we are the same and we are one. But I’m learning that sometimes it would just be easier if we’d say that our two hands just aren’t enough this time,for this particular situation. How many times do we extend ourselves for others and hope down to our bones that they reach out to because you can help and it’d be no bother-not at all. Why don’t we ever do that for ourselves? Oh, right, its pretty damn terrifying. Remember these words, our strength just IS. Our strength isn’t definable. Our strength is here, its right now. Sometimes right now needs an extra hand-heart-whatever and that is SO okay. Also, sometimes right now doesn’t need an extra hand and we shouldn’t get offended when that is.

Yup, that’s all I got today.

If it was helpful-WOOT-WOOT! Let me know how or why please-please.

If not then leave it here. Don’t take it with you.

Also, smallest update I can do right now. More soon, hopefully.