Where are you right now?
What are you doing?
What are you feeling?
What are you experiencing?
Where are you, in body and mind?
And what do you notice, as you take the time to observe yourself? Are you experiencing any symptoms of stress, anxiety or panic?
And, if you were — if you are — what might that look and feel like for you?
For me, it feels like a whirlwind. Racing thoughts, an inability to focus, a persistent but non-specific feeling of fear and self-doubt. Questioning everything, but not in a good way.
I woke up this morning feeling ‘off’.
Actually, I lie — it started last night.
I was being hard on myself. One of the biggest things that comes up for me when I feel like this is a (self-imposed) pressure to be perfect. A sense that I am fundamentally wrong, or if not ‘fundamentally wrong’ then at the very least ‘not good enough’. That no matter what I do, I am scrambling, and everyone can see it. That feeling of being laughed at, humiliated, out of your depth. An excruciating focus on my flaws, or the things I could be better at. A need to be something other than what and who I am today.
What triggered this?
A sense of inertia. A conversation that I felt I could’ve handled better. I wasn’t as sharp as I could’ve been. I had an opportunity and I didn’t use it as constructively as I wanted to. I came away feeling frustrated with myself.
Yes — live and learn.
And also, this sh*t hurts.
Did the other person notice? Likely not. I don’t know how they experienced me or the conversation, but rationally I would wager that they wouldn’t have been as critical of me as I have been.
I am a sensitive soul, and that’s okay.
I have high expectations of myself.
When I fall short of these, I find it difficult.
Like every other ‘high-achiever’, ‘ambitious person’ or even just bog-standard ‘human being’ — I’m working on it.
I am sharing myself in this intimate and honest way because it is cathartic for me to do so.
It is tremendously freeing for me to step into who I am, for all I am, and let myself be seen for it.
It is tremendously freeing not to have to hide or pretend. To explore and express myself unflinchingly. I am not afraid of my pain. I must sit with it, feel it, make peace with it. It doesn’t have to inhibit me. I don’t have to hold onto it.
One of the things that makes me angriest is the notion that vulnerability is a sign of weakness.
If that’s really the case, we are all weak.
(And hey, maybe we are.)
Conceptions of weakness aside, we are all vulnerable.
Paradoxically, it seems to me that it takes great courage to acknowledge and own this.
And yet, beneath this anger — my anger — is a sadness.
It’s easier to be angry than sad.
It’s easier to direct your energies outward than to look inward.
Sometimes it’s easier to rage at the world than it is to comfort yourself.
Pardon my French, but how f-ed up is that?
And yet, I trust.
I trust that this is and will be good for me.
I trust that this time of great change and uncertainty will bring me closer to who and what I was born to be.
Purpose — not grandiosity.
I’m not going to save the world, but I feel a great sense of personal responsibility to do what I can to be an asset and beacon of light to those around me.
Is this easy? No.
Is this raw? Yes.
Am I crying whilst writing this? Also yes.
Is this a problem? No.
These are the things that people don’t see.
Scratch that: that I don’t often let people see.
About me, but also (likely) about you.
Being vulnerable is scary. And healing.
And maybe healing is also scary too.
But it’s okay to be afraid.
Just for today, I am going to be kind to myself. I am going to listen to myself. I am going to remind myself that I am a beautiful person. I am going to do less, and be okay with that. I am going to rest. I am going to be.
The sun will rise again. Until then, take all the time you need. Be ‘selfish’. Be loving. Communicate openly. Make space for peace.
If this resonates with you, please don’t hesitate to reach out. My inbox is open.
#inthetrencheswithyou