It’s been a strange start to the year – two back-to-back viruses (I haven’t been that sick in a while), a long stroll in my own muck, and now my moon cycle has swept in with an unusually fiery rage. My womb feels like it is shedding far more than the walls of my uterus, as there are many other walls crumbling around me. The lesson thus far; bow down. I can be a slow learner, and this is not the first time I’ve been forced into submission in front of my own reflection. I’ve been feeling simultaneously very, very quiet and like I am going to explode. There is a level of humility that has been tough to swallow.
It’s funny how hard it is for me to flat-out ask for help; to admit to some of the deepest and most tender spots, the fears, the shame, the grief that I don’t always understand. There is a certain level of grieving that comes with being a human in this crazy world, bearing witness to the vast amounts of suffering, generations of pain in our ancestral lines, traumas stored in cellular memory… and being a highly sensitive human can be a tough and confusing road to walk. I feel an obligation to grieve for the earth and all who walk it, and have felt that way since I was a very young child… but how much of it can I really take responsibility for? How much can I hold, carry and heal without my nervous system going into shock?
Sometimes I am afraid that I lack the grit required to turn my sensitivity into a superpower rather than my kryptonite. That coming out of my cozy hiding spot will leave me feeling too naked and defenseless. That I will always accept mediocracy and less than what I need. That I will spend my life being a spectator and not a full participant. But my nervous system cannot continue on the way it has tried to for so long, and I deeply desire to lighten the load and truly live in the world. There is not much difference, if any, between the powers of love and grief, and underneath it all is a big heart in my chest, tethered to Spirit, ready to be of tremendous service to the world if it only had free reign to do so.
So, here I am. Trying to remember, recalibrate and realign. To be strong enough to soften into this tender space. Sinking back into the wisdom that lives in my blood and bones, amongst the trees, and riding on the wind. Turning down the volume on the frantic buzz of the interwebs and my own mind chatter and turning up the sounds of silence, music, and laughter. Less screens, more human touch. Building boundaries that make it safe enough to let people in. The balance of stillness and intentional movement. A pause before grasping for outside validation. The loving support of some pretty phenomenal humans. Trying to take it all one deep breath at a time.