Posts Tagged "self-acceptance"

The More I Know Myself, The Less I Care

The more I know myself, really and deeply know my Self, the less I’m finding I care… I don’t care what I look like. I don’t care that I make mistakes. I don’t care that my thoughts go off on wild, unhelpful tangents. I don’t care that I get afraid or triggered. I don’t care to spend so much time Digging Deep. (Gasp! I know!) The more I know myself, the less I find I care about others too… I don’t care what others think of me. I don’t care if they agree or disagree with me. I don’t have endless opinions or fears on the choices they make either. And I don’t care if I’m accepted or rejected. (Yes, despite my equally strong drive to not blindly follow the norm, this was very much a big thing for me.) I just don’t have the energy anymore, let alone the…

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The Fear of Public Speaking and What It Really Boiled Down To

I realized recently that I don’t get scared speaking anymore. Not when I’m interviewing someone big or important, nor when I’m teaching my essential oil workshops. I used to get out of my mind scared: butterflies, tightness, heart racing, the constant urge to pee my pants (no joke), and crazy thoughts of all kind of madness that could ensue, which usually involved images of people with pitchforks. But without all those emotions and thoughts getting in the way I’ve found I actually have a strength and passion for teaching, presenting, and speaking. (If you had asked me that five years ago I would swallowed my tongue just thinking about it.) I’ve spoken to some pretty amazing people in my life, people I admire or had a mild crush on – Steven Tyler (!!), Ricki Lake, Dr. Peter Gray – all with various amounts of nerves and confidence leading up to…

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Before We Get the Opportunity To Change Anything, We First Get the Opportunity to Love It

I had a dream several years ago that I was describing to my doctor what was hurting in my body by describing the one thing that wasn’t: my toes. Then I woke up and as I went to stretch my stiff joints and aching muscles, I felt it….my freaking toes were throbbing. You have got to be kidding me. Pain has been nothing new to my experiences. Developing scoliosis at age 10, undergoing surgery at age 14 and chronic, even debilitating, degeneration of my body has since been a history I had long tolerated. But that summer, I was in almost constant pain. I was struggling to walk, losing feeling in my limbs and settling into a recognition that I was “disabled”, broken; that my current experience was my medical destiny. It’s hard not to feel resentful or depressed over something like that. I was awash in the emotional anguish…

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“They say you find yourself in your 30’s.”

I’ve been having a lot of conversations with myself lately. Not the kind I normally have; they’ve evolved into something quiet and still and full of observation without words. They come instead with color and texture and movement and breath. With messy hands and a messy kitchen. With exposed shoulders and wisps of hair. With clutter and cleaning. My hands, my feet, my heart….they all want to be moving. My husband said something that is hanging with me as maybe what is going on: “They say you find yourself in your 30’s.” And then I had to ask him how old I was, because I couldn’t recall if it was 31 or 32. But I can recall my 20’s. My years of building structures, and tearing down walls. My years of rummaging through old photo boxes I kept locked in my mind, only to find the elements had damaged most…

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Free To Never Notice

I shaved my head again last week. It wasn’t in a moment of enlightenment or courage this time. It didn’t bring with it all the ecstasy and liberation. This time it was done out of frustration toward myself, almost like “pulling my hair out”. I had noticed how attached I had become to my hair, how much I cared about how it was looking, what it portrayed, and what others might think about it. And that pissed me off. Old patterns die hard, and even after several years of feeling free of that one, it had snuck back in. And I was not okay with that. I was angry. Mostly at myself. So out of anger, I shaved it all off again. Like I said I didn’t feel so liberated and joyful this time around. Instead I felt horrible, ugly, and full of self-hatred. Yes, self-hatred – as I witnessed…

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My Retreat Turned Into Retreating

I’ve got my feet up, my heart out, my head on. I’m not sure if I’m ready or just resolute, but I’m on my way. Confronting my resistance with 7 days of all day, every day meditation. It might blow my mind to bits. But that might be a good thing. That was the photo and those were the words rattling around within me Friday. Right before I turned my phone off, handed it to my hubby, and arrived at the ashram. I’m not sure how to describe the week that followed. People like to ask if I “had a good time”, but “good” is not exactly the word that fits. It wasn’t bad. But it wasn’t exactly good either. Useful. That was the adjective I settled on. It was a useful week. Enlightening. Challenging. Helpful in many ways. Heart-wrenching in others. I knew I’d be confronting my resistance to…

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My Wisdom, My Bullshit (and showing up for the right one)

I leave in just a couple hours, and I haven’t packed or even done laundry. I’ve been rushing through all the things I need to do before I leave because once I’m gone I’m actually going to be 100% gone. Off the grid. Seven days. Nothing but meditation. No email. No Facebook or Instagram. No internet whatsoever. I’m not even going to bring my phone. [Insert wide-eyed look of fear here.] Unless there is a bonafide emergency – something that (heaven forbid) involves a hospital or a mortuary – I will have zero contact with anyone but my own Self and the few others who will be on this little “retreat” with me. (That alone is a big deal. I can’t remember ever being out of contact with Justin or Zeb for more than 24 hours.) It’s not really a retreat, in the way we’ve come to see retreats. It’s…

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Self-Acceptance Means Trusting Change

The Guiding Word in the Sisterhood for September is Self-Acceptance and it’s got my wheels turning hard-core. I’ve been doing a lot of new inner discovery, noticing things about myself that make me laugh at how obvious it all is and making squirm at the same time. Why squirm? Because for me Self-Acceptance is bringing up one very old story, one very old bullshit trigger: Can I? Am I allowed? We all have our identities, subtle or not. We see ourselves as a set of traits, characteristics, things we’ve built into our personality or things others have defined for us. Identities can be as obvious as “entrepreneur” or “parent” or “partner”, the roles we play in our life and the lives of others. They can be based around the things we’re passionate about – “artist” or “hippie”. Or they can be as subtle as “the person who makes people laugh”,…

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