This Isn't Right, I'm Not Right [Yet]

I am in tears as I sit here before the blank screen, trying to figure out how to say what I need to say.

This isn't right.

This. She of the Wild. This work.

It is good work, this I know. It is honest and needed and I believe in it. I will keep doing it for these reasons.

But it isn't quite right, not quite in alignment with The Thing that's inside me and wants to, needs to get out, be born, be in the world, be there for you if you choose it, if it chooses you.

And god, that is hard to admit, because I've worked so hard and so long and have tried to believe, have kept showing up, and for all that, for all my own personal soul-growth, it's still not right (dammit).

And then I realize -- it's not just She of the Wild that isn't yet fine-tuned. It's me, too. My life. My whole life.

For those of you who've been with my along the way, or part of it, you know that it's been a journey. I started a numb girl child in the body of a young woman, and through the initiation of an eating disorder and then the anguish and grieving of my daughter's stillbirth and then the necessary burning of my religiosity, I've grown. God, I've grown. I wouldn't have chosen that path if I'd been given a choice, but since I found my feet on that road, I'm grateful for what it's given me.

And to now come to this moment and realize that there is still so much work to be done, still so much growing? Well. It's frustrating. But mostly it's exhausting.

And I'm right in the thick of it. Or (oh god) maybe just the beginning. Regardless, I find myself in another dark night. And here I thought I was done with all that [insert dry divine laughter here].

The spiral of descent (or is it ascent? I can't even tell anymore) that I am currently winding around has to do, I think, with my own strength. How I've never really learned to stand on my own two feet in the world. How I don't believe I'm worth getting paid a living wage for whatever work I happen to be doing. How I never learned to be my own beloved, my own true love, my own twin flame/soul mate/best friend/truest companion.

I came to this realization yesterday. And, later in the day, still cradling this bleak epiphany tenderly, I happened to lock eyes with mySelf in a mirror, and nearly crumbled at the sensation of being met by my Self. Of being on my own side, perhaps for the first time ever. Of being happy, content, fulfilled alone.

I didn't think it was possible.

I didn't think I was capable.

But in that moment, I believed. In that moment, I met myself with love and power and it rocked me and changed my mind.

I don't know where this is going. I don't know what will become of me. And god knows I really don't fancy another descent into the dark night.

But I know that this is good work. I know this is needed. For She of the Wild, sure, but first mySelf.

Will you walk with me, will you wait with me?

What to Do When Positive Changes Freak You Out

There are positive changes for my family in sight on the horizon. A new opportunity, different housing, and (hopefully) an expanded sense of freedom in our day to day lives.

In a word, these changes are good.

But one night, as I was putting the baby down in his crib, it hit me all at once that with these good changes would come other shiftings, ones that weren't as much fun but were necessary.

OMG, I thought in a sudden panic, clutching the baby close in the night-dark room, we're going to have to change our health insurance.

I proceeded to then freak out (like, quietly, because near-sleeping baby).

But about a minute after that, after putting the baby down and slipping out of his bedroom, I started to giggle at myself.

Because a) a great new job opportunity certainly warranted enduring an change of insurance, and b) changing from one decent coverage plan to another is not exactly the end of the world. More annoying than anything else.

But my brain and/or that primitive, survival-oriented part of my being would have me believe that this shift was cataclysmic, that everything should stay exactly it is in order to avoid the change of insurance . . . even if current conditions are less ideal than the future conditions that come packaged with said change of insurance.

So, what to do when you're in the midst of a positive change in your life, like starting a great new job, or opening an art shop online, or trying to get pregnant, or joining a gym . . . and out of no where you find yourself freaking the hell out?

Consider trying the following:

Breathe . . . and don't do anything else. Don't rush to turn down that job offer, or cancel your gym membership. Just hold as steady as you can, and breathe deep. Like, a lot.

Consider what it is that you're actually worried about . . . or not worried about. Get out your journal and free-write, or go for a walk and ponder. Is it your animal brain worried about risks, even ones that seem like pretty sure things? Are you afraid of the success that may come from your positive life change?

Accept the uncomfortable. Change, even good, expected, celebrated change, can still be scary. Understand that it's not the wrong move if some discomfort is involved. In fact, that may actually be a sign that you're on the right track.

Be amused. As a friend of mine would say . . . be amused at the inner workings of your mind. Some of its mechanisms are great, and others are a little more rusty or complicated. If you know that this change is right for you at this time, breathe through it, attempt to understand it, accept its discomfort . . . and smile. It's going to be okay.

Have you ever had this happen -- where you're flying high on some fabulous new changes, only to be knocked sideways by unexpected anxiety or general "what the hell am I doing?" freakouts? How did you navigate it, either successfully or not? I invite you to share what you're thinking in the comments below. I'd love to know!

How to Transform Discomfort to Strength

“Even though February was the shortest month of the year, sometimes it seemed like the longest.” ― J.D. Robb

Well. It's February.

Each February, I find myself giving myself a pep talk about how Februaries aren't all that bad, really.

C'mon, I tell myself. It's not that bad. A little cold, sure, which has gotten quite old by this point. But it's a short month, and soon March will be here, and that will mean that it's practically spring.

And yet it kind of does feel that bad. Overly long, inspire of its dearth of days, dreary, and not all too warm (here in Montana, anyway). I'm ready for the sun warming my bared shoulders, for sandals and tank tops without any jackets, for naked feet pressing into the earth.

But

it's not that time of year for us [yet].

So I'm trying really hard to practice being in the here and now, no matter how much I may dislike it or long for spring or feel uncomfortable. (Doesn't putting it like that make such an endeavor seem so much easier than it actually is? In reality, this kind of works makes me feel like a rookie in the big leagues.)

But I've been having lots of opportunities for pressing into the uncomfortable. One of the biggest of which is my reason for being mostly absent online in the past couple of months -- I've been working on becoming a certified OULA (sassy dance fitness for body, mind, and soul) teacher. And now I am one! I just learned this weekend that I passed my audition and that I'm in. What a relief and a joy!

And what a journey. A good one, but not one without discomfort. First there was attending the training weekend (on no sleep, might I add, thanks to a puking toddler), and then teaching my first song there. Then I taught my first song in a real class, and then a few songs, and then a whole class all by myself. And even now that I'm certified, there are new challenges ahead -- getting insured, applying to be a sub at gyms, and bringing in students so I don't find myself in the red with space rentals, to name a few.

I take in a lot (a lot) of articles/podcasts/videos/blog posts on being an online entrepreneur, and read a lot of inspiring success stories. But something that I feel too many of these stories gloss over is the discomfort involved -- the discomfort of trying, of failing, and even of succeeding.

Every positive opportunity comes with its shadow side of discomfort, of nervousness, maybe even of fear and anxiety. This is true for me, and I'm guessing I'm not the only one. So if you've been dismayed or surprised by the difficulties that come with even the good things in your life, you're not alone.

Press into the discomfort, don't walk away from the good in order to avoid the discomfort. By sticking with it, by facing at what's hard while celebrating what's great, you will eventually transmute that uncomfortable aspect into strength.

What kind of strength? It depends on what the opportunity in question is. For me, in pressing forward through my OULA training instead of fleeing when it got hard or [really damn] scary, I gained courage to perform in front of an audience. I discovered that it's not too late for me to be a dancer. And -- perhaps best of all -- I've regained a great deal of vocal power by pressing into the challenge of singing, shouting, and generally making a ruckus while teaching a class.

So if you're walking through a door into a spacious new opportunity only to be knocked sideways by an unexpected challenge, discomfort, or difficulty, stop and take a breath, then look that sucker in the eye. What strength or gain is standing beyond it, just for you? Is it worth it to press through that mucky part to stand in the sun? If so, keep going. Endure. Screw up your courage. Be gentle with yourself. And most importantly, do that hard-but-leading-to-awesomeness thing. I don't think you'll regret it.

p.s. If you need a little support, perhaps my mini e-course, Your Fearless Year 2016, might be of some help? Get it for just $10 USD with discount code BEFEARLESS16.