I didn’t realise coming back home would feel so strange. The first month back I admittedly hid from people I knew, trying to grasp what it was inside me that felt so vulnerable and even lost. I’d spent months in Spain and the United Kingdom permission-ing myself to flow in the moment, to embrace ‘now’, and then I come back to everything being the same here. Feeling myself different, stronger, I felt resistance trying to make peace with all the invitations to be who I was once again. Invitations to be small, to down play my accomplishments, to give explanations for who I am, to question whether or not I want to stand out of the crowd, to rush into busy like a bee in spring. Well, I’m not a bee. However wonderful they are.
The truth is I can’t go back to the old way. The way of sleeping, unaware of my authentic heart and her connection with the relentless greater purpose pulsating through her veins so passionately.
I used to believe that work had to be painful in order to bring forth fruit. I believed I had to be stressed out, so busy I couldn’t spend time with my loved ones, and constantly on social media in order to prove to myself and other people I was making great headway in my life. It’s like being on social media “connecting” with friends and family eased the pain of guilt because I actually hadn’t talked with them in person in months. And the stress? Being in this state all the time just reaffirmed my deep need for chaos… the need to be needed… constantly trying to fix everything. If there’s a problem, I can fix it. Well, now, that’s just silly. I can’t fix everything. It took me long enough to realise this and let go of it and know I am loved even if I can’t solve your problem.
I didn’t know all of the above was why my body was hurting so badly, and I didn’t feel well most of the time. In fact I didn’t know how badly I physically felt until I got really sick and literally could’t get out of bed for months. Ugh. Mono. That first clue was at least 6 years ago. Now, I find myself, selling my beloved house I worked so hard to make beautiful and create hygge in, AND I now understand the journey I’ve been on. I understand those 6 years ago began a journey to health and wellness and belonging I couldn’t have predicted, because, well, as you know, we don’t know what we don’t know until we know it.
So, what’s a girl to do when she’s in a pattern of painful working, working, working? How can she be abundant in her deepest passions and bring forth her hearts fruit?
It all began with being still. Quieting my surroundings, my inner focus, and starting the journey to surrender to my internal voice and my external Greater Guidance.
But I chose to fight.
When you’re sick in bed, you still have a choice to surrender to what is and listen, or fight tooth and nail. I chose to fight. That time. I did however start listening to my body… what are you trying to tell me, body? You can’t prove your value by running yourself into the ground? Naawww…. surely I can do that! Obviously, I wasn’t really ready to fully listen… it took a few more years, and particularly an appendectomy during the most busy season of my life to really get me listening.
I remember a couple days after my surgery I was alone at home, in bed, and I had to pee. If you’ve ever had your appendix out, you’ll know you absolutely can’t use your stomach muscles. I attempted to slowly turn over and slide out of bed… ouch, major pain.
I felt so helpless, so incapable, so weak. I eased back to my pillow utterly defeated and burst into a torrent of tears.
After all who in their right mind would want an employee who can’t even get out of bed? Who can’t prove her utter loyalty to the system by sacrificing herself on the alter of wellness for a few bits of external awe and approval? Futile thinking. And the cost… mmmm ouch. It hurt.
The benefit of such a predicament is that my body was not going to let me get away with this BS any longer. So, I lay there thinking and sighing and crying until I realised:
I do have a choice.
I can either sit here feeling sorry for myself or I can be here in this pain and allow myself to enjoy all the reading and movie time.
Finally, I leaned in. It’s too hard to be super woman in that place of survival. My body loves reminding me of it too. Thank you body for doing your job. Now, maybe, when I’m 80 I’ll still be bopping around and dancing a jig, laughing in the face of my future!