I feel so weepy. So tired, so wretched, so heartbroken, but soft and strong below that.
I'm going to do an Isabella suggested practice.
I am going to incorporate space to notice my beliefs right now. I'm going to notice this part of me that feels so afraid and not good enough and talk to this part, write it down and let it go. Making deliberate space to allow the clamped places to open up and evolve.
What feels very hard to see right now within myself?
This part of me that just feels like - Is this okay? Is it okay to be this not okay? Is it okay to be this removed from ordinary ways of doing work and functioning? Is it okay to make THIS little progress, to get THIS little done? What if this means I am a completely dysfunctional person and if people really knew what I was like, they would be horrified? What if they knew? What if I am a complete failure?
Hi - I see you, fear. I see you, small scared terrified part. I hear that you are feeling super unstable and not okay. I see that you are quaking at the core. I am here to breathe with you, to hold space for you. I see that you feel completely unseen and invisible and written off. I feel you. You feel very familiar. You feel like a small scared part of me that had no measure of okayness to lean against while I was growing up. You feel like a part of me that was constantly given the message that I wasn't enough, that I needed to look outside of myself. I feel flickers of anger, protective rage. You were told that everyone knew better except for you, that everyone else had it together somehow. And you were terrified at being found out that you didn't.
Let's breathe, slowly, gently, together. Feel our belly move out on the inhale, in gently with the in breath. Feel our body resting on the chair. Yawn. Yes, that's good.
What if it was okay to be a mess? What if it was okay to not be put together? What if we didn't need to compare ourselves to anyone or anything?
But then how would we know if we were okay?
It's a good question. But how do we know that we're not okay? It's by comparing ourselves to something else that makes us feel not okay, too.
True. How do we even know how to feel at all?
Maybe.... curving gently back into our own knowing? What if we could trust our own instincts about how we can feel?
Like right now... with the cello music going, with the soft autumn night, writing about these things and feeling my stomach slowly unclench in the dim kitchen glow... maybe we feel okay.
Maybe we feel alright. And maybe it has nothing to do with anything we did today.
Feeling my fingers on the keys. Smooth, light. Piano notes moving, cello arcing in.
Metallic accents on the pinecone on the table.
I smell faint whiffs of pumpkin.
Cool water on my tongue.
I did do some soft things today, and they mostly felt good to do, even if they took a number of spoons. I really liked sending off Bill's stickers, actually.
I am having a funny time, but it's maybe okay. Slowness. It's not sexy, but it's whole.
Going to pour some tea.
Some reasonable affirmations...
I am good enough just as I am right now.
I am doing my best right now.
I do not need to earn rest or things that make me feel good. I deserve ease and joy all the time.
I can manifest my life's work; and I am Already whole.
I belong in this work. In this world.
The aspirations of my heart can be aligned with Divine Will, and because of that, they can come true.
No ache or creak or stiffness or brain fog or general bodily malaise means anything about my worthiness and belonging. I get to be here on this Earth, just as I am right now. And this too shall pass. Everything difficult will change and evolve.
How does the fear feel now?
It feels a bit soothed, not entirely gone, but relaxing a bit to recognize there might be other ways of looking at things, that it might not all be one way.
I recognize that I do not need to meet my own expectations perfectly to have room for all of me to exist.