You know how sometimes these big things happen and you're like, "Whoa! Didn't see that coming AT ALL?"
Well, what if you were given clues that you didn't recognize? What if the universe was trying to tell you all along, but you couldn't see or hear or understand what it was presenting to you? What if you were ignoring the signs?
I have been strugglebussing for a couple of weeks now. Managing my mental and physical health has been very effortful, and it's super frustrating. How did I reinjur my elbow by squeezing my stupid Scrub Daddy? Why is my back twinging on an easy afternoon walk? Why am I low-key freaking out about the small things? Why is everything that happens pointing to my imminent death and/or destruction?
And I don't have definitive answers, but I have ideas, and at the top of the list is that I'm not paying attention to what my body (aka the universe) has been telling me. My brain, she is clever and she loves words. She loves puzzles. She delights in being clever and she really REALLY loves me.
Her mouth, though, isn't always kind. Her mouth says, "OMG, what now? Again? What did you do and what do I gotta do now to fix it?" What she doesn't say, though, is that she's afraid that she won't know how to fix it. Won't know how to make it better. She doesn't say out loud that she fears she isn't enough. What if she fails me?
So she says drink more water, stretch, eat a healthier snack, go to bed earlier, put down your phone. She says spend more time with your family, your friends. Go outside, take a walk, meditate. Take some ibuprofen, get a massage.
What she doesn't say-- what she doesn't wanna do-- is pay attention to my pain. My brain greets discomfort as irritations, "What NOW?" instead of a friend in need, "Come here, beautiful, let me give you a hug." Because she's scared that what I need, she can't provide for.
I have been doing all the things I know I'm supposed to do for great mental and physical health. I exercise and socialize and hydrate and eat healthy. I stretch and roll and walk. I even started jogging(ish)! I meditate and read and journal.
But I haven't been listening.
And all these injuries? That's my body telling me something. It's been telling me what it needed, and my brain was like, "What are you talking about? We've been doing the things! All of them! You're so ungrateful." Like that's supposed to sustain my relationship with myself? Giving it what I think it needs rather than what it's actually asking for.
I cried like crazy yesterday morning, realizing what I've been doing. Realizing that I have been unkind to myself. I have been resistant rather than responsive, and there is no relaxation in resistance, I've been told.
My goal for the next bunch of moments-- as many as I can manage-- is to meet myself with compassion and tenderness. To (re)discover what brings me comfort. To maintain curiosity instead of judgment. And then reconnect my actions to my intentions to my actual needs.
But really, for right now, it's just to meet myself with love and patience and tenderness.
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