I have been absent for a while. Absent from writing and creative expression. Absent from nourishing the human connections that once were the quintessential building blocks of my existence. Absent from the outdoors. From compassion. From myself. The only thing I do not feel absence from is punishing myself. How do I grant myself grace, appreciation, acceptance, forgiveness?
Life fucking sucks sometimes. Sometimes there’s just no way around lack of eloquent delivery…
It’s been really hard for me to see and find the light recently. I’ve been feeling alone, afraid, desperate, and lost. I set such high and idealistic standards for myself, which makes me examine the standards I often set for others. I’m a pro at formulating expectations. I’m also really fucking sensitive and almost always fail to not take things personally. I have a big and endlessly generous, giving heart…. though as of late, it rarely feels like it’s swelling in the ways that it used to on a regular basis. AND, there is an undeniable, ugly darkness woven with threads of jealousy, greed, and anger that resides inside of me. The dichotomy of good and bad creates a confusing energy that feels like it needs wrestled and tamed. Sometimes I’m not able to subdue it. I simply let the tears fall, curl up into a ball, and wait out the storm. The shadow lurks in the subconscious corners of my psyche and corrodes my awareness of what is true and real. It sabotages my relationship with Self and others. It perpetuates a hellish war that is constantly being waged in my mind.
I wish I could sit here right now and share with you a little bit of my journey away from self-hatred the past few months. However, I think I’m in the thick of it and I’m not sure whether I’m going forward or backward or spiraling out of control. I am tormented by the quest of giving myself grace. To love and to care for myself wherever I might be is a hard fought lesson I still haven’t mastered. I know I cannot be anywhere other than where I am. I cannot do anything I can’t do. I can only move or be still while striving to do my best in this moment, and my ‘best’ is always changing in a subjective manner. I am trying so hard to accept the process, but I’ve never been good at surrendering. Never been great at forgiving myself. I’ve often pondered out loud – wishing for a “cease to exist” button. I get so lost in the punishment of my failures. I am unable to see myself the way others see me. Not only that, but it’s a paradox to be able to ask for help when I feel so enmeshed in the whirlwind of energies and thoughts consuming me that I am unable to accurately articulate what I’m feeling in language. It’s as though I’ve lost my ability to effectively communicate and express myself… I never used to have this immense difficulty. Communication and articulation in the form of thoughtful conversation was once one of my greatest strengths.
In these dismal times when I often find myself spending my time in the lowest of lows, I find myself questioning out loud… why is being human so hard? I am merely a speck of mineral dust for fuck sake! There was a time when I really loved life. I was in utter reverence to life. I loved life with every fragment of my being and was brought to tears of joy and gratitude and a deep experiential sensation of a tender, open heart, but deep down, there was a part of me that wasn’t evolving. I was glued in a rut that contained my ideal projected self image and identity/role in this world. My inner child wounds began to open up and begged to be cleansed and nursed back to wholeness. I could no longer deny the darkness within me… as much as I wanted to continue to whole-heartedly believe that everything was ‘love and light’ and resort to the repetition of the adage ‘everything happens for a reason’ when things would get a little rocky. I was a spiritual bypasser, through and through. Yet I was happy and satisfied with my life, right? As I began excavating the landscape of my personal life and scrutinizing my inner world several hours a day, sometimes for many consecutive days in a row, I discovered skeletons that I didn’t want to remember or even acknowledge in the first place. It was painful to realize and admit I’d been dishonest with myself and some people for so long. I’d become so good at pretending to be who I thought I was. Who I was supposed to be based on a label, image, or role. Through a series of challenges and actions that weren’t rooted in awareness, I realized how much pain was branded into my tissues… not only that… I was unconsciously transferring that pain onto others through lack of mindful action and inappropriate behavior, namely when it came to intimacy, sexuality, and relationships. I was also masking my pain and bottled fear and pessimism with alcohol, which led to me finding myself in handcuffs in the back of a police car one night. That was the catalyst that sparked the inferno that started burning away the layers to expose the truth. I had no choice but to begin attempts to unravel years of programming, conditioning, beliefs, patterns, and ways of interacting in the world. Around this same time, I fell in love with a man who propelled me deeper into my personal growth journey that was highly centered around the exploration of my shadow side. He challenged me to look at myself with a naked eye and to look at my shadows, patterns, and lies. Through his hurtful truth and courage to call my on my integrity, I began sculpting myself into a more refined woman and friend. BUT, talk about a fucking jolt to the system and psyche. I regularly wanted to run away. My whole world was crumbling around me and I was suffocating under the rubble. The shattering of the foundation of an image was in full swing.
Life fucking sucks sometimes. Sometimes there’s just no way around lack of eloquent delivery…
It’s been really hard for me to see and find the light recently. I’ve been feeling alone, afraid, desperate, and lost. I set such high and idealistic standards for myself, which makes me examine the standards I often set for others. I’m a pro at formulating expectations. I’m also really fucking sensitive and almost always fail to not take things personally. I have a big and endlessly generous, giving heart…. though as of late, it rarely feels like it’s swelling in the ways that it used to on a regular basis. AND, there is an undeniable, ugly darkness woven with threads of jealousy, greed, and anger that resides inside of me. The dichotomy of good and bad creates a confusing energy that feels like it needs wrestled and tamed. Sometimes I’m not able to subdue it. I simply let the tears fall, curl up into a ball, and wait out the storm. The shadow lurks in the subconscious corners of my psyche and corrodes my awareness of what is true and real. It sabotages my relationship with Self and others. It perpetuates a hellish war that is constantly being waged in my mind.
I wish I could sit here right now and share with you a little bit of my journey away from self-hatred the past few months. However, I think I’m in the thick of it and I’m not sure whether I’m going forward or backward or spiraling out of control. I am tormented by the quest of giving myself grace. To love and to care for myself wherever I might be is a hard fought lesson I still haven’t mastered. I know I cannot be anywhere other than where I am. I cannot do anything I can’t do. I can only move or be still while striving to do my best in this moment, and my ‘best’ is always changing in a subjective manner. I am trying so hard to accept the process, but I’ve never been good at surrendering. Never been great at forgiving myself. I’ve often pondered out loud – wishing for a “cease to exist” button. I get so lost in the punishment of my failures. I am unable to see myself the way others see me. Not only that, but it’s a paradox to be able to ask for help when I feel so enmeshed in the whirlwind of energies and thoughts consuming me that I am unable to accurately articulate what I’m feeling in language. It’s as though I’ve lost my ability to effectively communicate and express myself… I never used to have this immense difficulty. Communication and articulation in the form of thoughtful conversation was once one of my greatest strengths.
In these dismal times when I often find myself spending my time in the lowest of lows, I find myself questioning out loud… why is being human so hard? I am merely a speck of mineral dust for fuck sake! There was a time when I really loved life. I was in utter reverence to life. I loved life with every fragment of my being and was brought to tears of joy and gratitude and a deep experiential sensation of a tender, open heart, but deep down, there was a part of me that wasn’t evolving. I was glued in a rut that contained my ideal projected self image and identity/role in this world. My inner child wounds began to open up and begged to be cleansed and nursed back to wholeness. I could no longer deny the darkness within me… as much as I wanted to continue to whole-heartedly believe that everything was ‘love and light’ and resort to the repetition of the adage ‘everything happens for a reason’ when things would get a little rocky. I was a spiritual bypasser, through and through. Yet I was happy and satisfied with my life, right? As I began excavating the landscape of my personal life and scrutinizing my inner world several hours a day, sometimes for many consecutive days in a row, I discovered skeletons that I didn’t want to remember or even acknowledge in the first place. It was painful to realize and admit I’d been dishonest with myself and some people for so long. I’d become so good at pretending to be who I thought I was. Who I was supposed to be based on a label, image, or role. Through a series of challenges and actions that weren’t rooted in awareness, I realized how much pain was branded into my tissues… not only that… I was unconsciously transferring that pain onto others through lack of mindful action and inappropriate behavior, namely when it came to intimacy, sexuality, and relationships. I was also masking my pain and bottled fear and pessimism with alcohol, which led to me finding myself in handcuffs in the back of a police car one night. That was the catalyst that sparked the inferno that started burning away the layers to expose the truth. I had no choice but to begin attempts to unravel years of programming, conditioning, beliefs, patterns, and ways of interacting in the world. Around this same time, I fell in love with a man who propelled me deeper into my personal growth journey that was highly centered around the exploration of my shadow side. He challenged me to look at myself with a naked eye and to look at my shadows, patterns, and lies. Through his hurtful truth and courage to call my on my integrity, I began sculpting myself into a more refined woman and friend. BUT, talk about a fucking jolt to the system and psyche. I regularly wanted to run away. My whole world was crumbling around me and I was suffocating under the rubble. The shattering of the foundation of an image was in full swing. There was time when I was on the ‘up’ side of the colored emotional spectrum that solely consists of nuances of grays, intermingled with ebony. In my times of strength and passionate living, I would frequently remind friends and strangers that even though they may feel at one point or another that they don’t matter in this world, they absolutely do. Because of them, or you, or me, someone has a favorite mug to drink their tea out of in the morning, someone hears a song on the radio and they are reminded of you, someone has read a book that you recommended to them and it may have altered the course of their life. We all have an impact, every day, every moment, and the beauty of it is… we get to choose what kind of an impact it is.
Yet… what do you do when everything feels foreign? When you lose your small identities one by one? When your self-image becomes so distorted by pain and you question whether or not it’s a blessing for your so called identity to have disintegrated or if you’ve actually lost yourself to the point of unhealthy destruction and indomitable anguish? I try to hold on to the feeling of the sun on my skin, my hands in the dirt, and my bare-feet on the earth, but what happens when you can’t hold on anymore? When no one notices that you’ve gone missing? Missing from yourself. What happens then? How does one surrender into nothing but past footsteps and dust? I know there’s a huge disconnect between the woman who I strive to be today and the little girl inside who is still trapped in the box of harsh memories and thought patterns.
I’ve spent a lot of time recently sitting with that little girl in me. A lot of time meditating and figuring out what the little girl in me wants and needs. That little girl has always tried really hard to be enough, to be appreciated for who she is. Really hard. There were a lot of emotional tribulations that were merely too much to deal with as a child. But, all she wanted was to be accepted. Truly accepted, and loved. And she was. But more often than not, it came at the cost of living up to expectations regarding performance and behavior, especially in the academic arena and the world of “appropriate” versus “inappropriate,” whose boundaries were formulated by her parents and their own neurosis. I spent so much time trying to be the perfect daughter. I wanted, more than anything, to be something that was worth being proud of. I know I’ll never understand why I felt I wasn’t enough. All I can do is figure out where that little girl hurts and let her know that she is so much more than enough and breathe healing love into all of the dark and empty spaces that take up residence in her and make her feel ghost-like.
Little girl – what do you need? You don’t have to hold these traumas by yourself anymore. Let them go and breathe. I can help you but you have to trust me. We don’t have to hurt anymore. I promise. Just let me help you. I’m driving the bus now. We can hold hands and jump rope. No more A’s on your exams, no more suppressing your ‘negative’ emotions, no more hinging your self-worth on how ‘good’ you are or how ‘smart’ you are. It’s okay to be unabashedly you – even without asking for permission. You, just as you are, are good enough.
I miss the free spirited, happy go lucky, lover of life that I once was. I miss feeling ready for anything. Invincible, strong, ambitious, resilient, motivated, energized… Will I ever see Her again? Now, I still don’t fully know who ‘Tasha’ is. Some days I feel like a foreigner in my own skin. Other days I feel like an embodied and empowered Goddess. I tell myself every day that I can remember how to love myself. If I just keep going. If I keep moving. And that love may not be perfect. It might be rough around the edges. But it will be with all of my heart. It may never make up for the emptiness and the burning thought “what if I’m just unlovable because I’m not good enough”… but at least it’s a start… an entry into the place where vibrant wildflowers paint the hillside and the sunshine caresses my skin.
I’ve spent a lot of time recently sitting with that little girl in me. A lot of time meditating and figuring out what the little girl in me wants and needs. That little girl has always tried really hard to be enough, to be appreciated for who she is. Really hard. There were a lot of emotional tribulations that were merely too much to deal with as a child. But, all she wanted was to be accepted. Truly accepted, and loved. And she was. But more often than not, it came at the cost of living up to expectations regarding performance and behavior, especially in the academic arena and the world of “appropriate” versus “inappropriate,” whose boundaries were formulated by her parents and their own neurosis. I spent so much time trying to be the perfect daughter. I wanted, more than anything, to be something that was worth being proud of. I know I’ll never understand why I felt I wasn’t enough. All I can do is figure out where that little girl hurts and let her know that she is so much more than enough and breathe healing love into all of the dark and empty spaces that take up residence in her and make her feel ghost-like.
Little girl – what do you need? You don’t have to hold these traumas by yourself anymore. Let them go and breathe. I can help you but you have to trust me. We don’t have to hurt anymore. I promise. Just let me help you. I’m driving the bus now. We can hold hands and jump rope. No more A’s on your exams, no more suppressing your ‘negative’ emotions, no more hinging your self-worth on how ‘good’ you are or how ‘smart’ you are. It’s okay to be unabashedly you – even without asking for permission. You, just as you are, are good enough.
I miss the free spirited, happy go lucky, lover of life that I once was. I miss feeling ready for anything. Invincible, strong, ambitious, resilient, motivated, energized… Will I ever see Her again? Now, I still don’t fully know who ‘Tasha’ is. Some days I feel like a foreigner in my own skin. Other days I feel like an embodied and empowered Goddess. I tell myself every day that I can remember how to love myself. If I just keep going. If I keep moving. And that love may not be perfect. It might be rough around the edges. But it will be with all of my heart. It may never make up for the emptiness and the burning thought “what if I’m just unlovable because I’m not good enough”… but at least it’s a start… an entry into the place where vibrant wildflowers paint the hillside and the sunshine caresses my skin.
“You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
Love what it loves.”
– Mary Oliver
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
Love what it loves.”
– Mary Oliver