Yesterday, I had a conversation with my person (that’s for another post, another day) and we were talking through an incident that happened that day (yesterday). There was some miscommunication which we were hashing out. Nothing big, nothing new.
Throughout the conversation, I felt a little shitty – about myself.
Near the end of the conversation, I felt a little more shitty.
My chest felt stuffy, my head in a haze, my stomach uncomfortable.
At one point, I said, “I think I’m going to cry. I don’t know why.”
Shortly after, the tears came.
I had no idea what was going on.
And the tears flooded.
My body shook and heaved,
trembling with the release of each round of tears.
I couldn’t save face at this point, I had nothing to salvage, with the other person listening on the phone.
I was gone. And I was done.
I let whatever was coming through carry me, there didn’t seem to be anything else to do or to be done.
I began to be aware of some thoughts and memories.
I began to remember the past, when I had been so hard on myself, demanding perfection, and relentlessly berating myself for being so shitty.
I was always a failure, a loser, an utterly useless hopeless human.
I remembered working at my previous jobs, staring at the computer screens, barely getting work done because all I could think of was how much I sucked at my job, how much my boss must think I’m stupid and a waste, how much I was destined for nothingness.
And then I’d bear down on myself for not getting work done.
I remembered looking at other people and wondering how they lived their lives. How they could be happy, what it took to be happy, what that could look like on me.
I could barely imagine it. The thought of me being happy was a universe away, hidden in another dimension and reality. It was inconceivable.
As these memories flooded my mind, I began to feel such sadness for the way I had spent much of my life. I felt such compassion for young Grace who simply wanted to do her best, for young Grace who simply was doing her best.
I felt so grief for the youth that had been lost, the youth spent worrying about others, feeling inadequate, and seeking validation everywhere else but herself.
The sadness ran deep, coursing through the canyons the brokenness, depression, and bleakness had carved over the years.
I realized that though I had arrived at a place where I’m able to take care of my emotional, mental, and spiritual health, where I am genuinely happy and excited for life, some things needed and wanted to be released, surrendered, and cried out.
I saw that I had held within the self-judgments, the self-loathing, self-rejection, self-condemnation even after I had healed many parts of me. Perhaps it was the healing of many parts of me that allowed these things to come through.
After the crying subsided, I put my hands on my heart and showed some love to me, reversed the heaviness of the past, the sadness, anger, and frustration.
I felt peace. Such deep quiet peace. I felt like I was home. I felt like I was okay to be me, to be all of me.
I felt glad and grateful for this crazy wonderful beautiful life.
I felt grateful to have had the space, to have been held, even over the phone, by someone who means so much to me, as I journeyed through the pain.
I felt freedom. And hope. Lots of hope.
Also lots of joy. Haha.
I feel good. I feel freer. I feel lighter.
I’m glad to be me.