After spending almost four weeks housebound from a powerful virus, I am feeling re-birthed and hopeful, and so very grateful for the energy to move off the couch.
Although I am still processing, I am making some keen observations. Naturally, being idle for a month gave me ample time to think and re-digest my thoughts.
I know now, that prior to my illness, a lot of stagnant energy was kindling inside.
For the last several months, I had felt pulled in many directions, but pretended I did not.
I fooled myself.
I told myself I was at peace and happy, but I was not.
I told myself I was on the right track, even though I felt adrift and lost.
I pushed myself forward and pulled myself.
Everything felt forced and contrived.
I fell into the trap of fixation and obsession.
And into the trap of people-pleasing.
I used my tendency to hyper-focus to escape life.
I see now that in blogging, I was putting pressure on myself to come up with “worthy” posts. I couldn’t write something simple or fast. I had to “prove” to others I was worthy.
I also placed a burden of responsibility on myself to “help” others through example.
I was under extreme pressure, at times, to perform.
No one ever made me feel like I had to act a certain way or produce a certain output. I did it all to myself.
Like in the past, I thought I had to show people I was good enough.
Later, when I took photographs, again, I thought of outsiders and onlookers. Was my photo good enough?
Logically, I could analyze the pressure I was putting on myself, but I couldn’t stop. I didn’t know how.
My walking, too, I turned into a game of unworthiness. I believed that if I didn’t keep walking five miles a day that I would become undesirable to anyone. I told myself that if my husband were to pass, then I would forever be alone. I told myself to be loved I had to be better. I had to be prettier. I had to be sexier.
I truly thought I’d outgrown some of these self-defeating patterns.
Obviously my spirit took note.
In the later part of 2010 and early 2011, I hyper-focused on spirit and self-growth, reading one hundred plus spiritual/religious texts.
When that fire dimmed, I focused on returning to college.
When that avenue was closed, I turned to the outer me: my physical body.
The thing is I was never balanced in all my endeavors.
Always there remains this lopsided excess energy exerted into a self-limiting passion.
I am set to self-destruct.
Inevitably I awake from some dream-state and realize I haven’t been present. I haven’t been living.
Balance is the key. Unfortunately a key I have not been able to find.
Until this sickness.
I feel like I don’t have to prove anything to anyone through my writing.
Though, I’m still insecure, I accept this about me.
I may always be insecure.
But I’m starting to realize there is a grace and humility in being me.
And even in my state of wondering and need for validation and confirmation of my worth, I am enough.
I am good.
I am okay.
I am tired of trying to be something or someone.
Tired of trying to improve someone who is already divinely perfect.
So for now, I’m letting go of the fight.
I recognize my new “fixation” is obsessive cleaning, de-cluttering, and organizing. Not a bad fixation to have in the scheme of things, if I say so myself.
But I am not fighting.
I am not pulling myself down with guilt.
And I am naturally finding some balance.
I am turning again to practicing being in the present and living in the moment without the need to control—especially without the need to control myself.
I am returning to where I was in 2010, when I was awe-inspired by meditation, chanting, spiritual reading, energy-healing, and the like.
But I am returning more balanced.
As I move into this new month of October, I am recognizing a seasonal change in myself.
Despite the physical anguish and mental suffering, I am thankful for the time of reflection I was forced to encounter through my illness.
I was made to be still, too weak to escape into anything but my own thoughts and sleep.
I’m starting to rebuild the fire of self-love, passion, and love of life within me. Only this time, I have gathered the kindling and wood to burn for only me. Not for the world. Not for someone outside myself. But for the beautiful being I am. The one who is never afraid to admit her struggles, her challenges, and character-building “imperfections.”
And I’m reconnecting to my higher power, that I choose to call God and Jesus. It’s nice to go home again. To be held in unconditional love, and know all will be okay.
Love and Blessings,
A paper I’ve had since I was a teenager. (During my panda bear collecting years, e.g., sticker.)
The power of words poster I had on display in my study.
The candles I light to reflect and heal.