A reader of last week’s blog about secrets and sexual abuse responded with a powerful question. And it might just be a question you share with him…
My secret had me convinced that the true me couldn’t be shared. Instead, I believed it was necessary to create an alternate version of me that would be accepted by others.
Most of us want to believe we are good people, right? So what happens when we discover we’ve been hurting others in ways we didn’t realize? Well, shame is often the first feeling to show up. But it doesn’t have to be the last…
What happens when our focus moves so wholeheartedly to the final goal that we lose touch with the micro-moments that make up our journey toward it? It means that our micro-moments stop mattering to us. They become an annoyance instead of the part of our life through which nudges and guidance can come. Isn’t that wild to realize?
As I moved into a ‘Soft I Don’t Know’, I felt relief. My shoulders became lighter. I started laughing again. It became easier to be present without working so hard at it. My mind relaxed even though all the solutions weren’t yet here. My anxiety and sense of responsibility to find all the fixes for my stress dissipated and my list of worries grew shorter despite the fact that uncertainty remained.
It’s hard to hear the wisdom of our inner compass when we’re moving at the speed of light. Yet we don’t need to bring the pace to a fast and complete halt to begin to feel better.
The year after I graduated from college, I was in the early throes of navigating a chronic illness that lasted another 8 years and completely altered the life that I’d known up to that point.
It’s time to let go of working so hard to try to succeed at self care and instead have your self-care happen with more ease.
I’ve hit patches of stress overload so many times in my life. And each time, I subsequently hit a wall of overwhelm and paralysis that used to stop me in my tracks. But as I’ve learned to respond differently to that wall, guess what happens? The stress I experience in the presence of the wall notably decreases and I recover from the overwhelm so much faster.
Can you guess what was special about February 6th for me? It marked two years since my sweet, cancerous thyroid flew on to other adventures. And she sure taught me a helluva lot before she headed out.