The past few months have been pretty tough for me. Between my surgery, my daughters’ mental illness diagnosis, and the recent flood experience, I haven’t really been feeling completely myself of late. It’s not that I’m unhappy or experiencing dark days. It’s just that life seems to be a bit heavier than usual.
In fact, thinking about it, my mind seems pretty clear and my progress measurable. I see the issues I’m working through, I gather information, I experiment, and I move towards integration as best I can. I use the tools I’ve learned from whole health and I can see that I am indeed growing.
Still, there’s one area that I’ve been feeling particularly stuck. My writing. Normally, for me, writing is like breathing. I will sit down and the words flow through me onto the computer screen. As I write, everything I am completely present and laid raw. Afterwards, I am absolutely exhausted. In this way, writing for me is both a birthing process and an exercise in surrender.
Conversely, when I overthink or force my writing, it tends to be garbage. If I’m not open and authentic, my work suffers. It seems cold and lifeless or calculated and canned.
I love my work. It accurately reflects who I am and what is truly important to me. Good and bad. Beautiful and inspiring or ugly and dark.
Still, since writing about whole health is about being authentic and open, there’s always a sense of vulnerability. I think that’s important. In our lives, we see far too many photo shopped images about how life should be (rather than how it really is). Sometimes, it’s extremely hard to remember that fact when we are working through to find our own unique whole health balance. At that point, it’s easy to start to question ourselves and our ability to live happy, content filled lives.
As much as I wish it sometimes, I’m not immune to moments of weakness. As you all well know, I am not perfect. I make mistakes and my life is definitely not the Brady Bunch.
Sometimes, I simply expect too much of myself. Even though I repeatedly write that going through transitions are difficult and generally not pretty, I feel like everything in my life should run perfectly smoothly. I should be a role model. Somehow, my life should show like a picture in a magazine.
Of course, that wouldn’t be real. It might be an ego boast. It might even be a good business strategy. In the end though, it would defy the whole purpose of what I do. Indeed, it would invalidate me.
No, the reality is that right now I’m going through a few transitions. That’s a messy process. It’ll take as long or short of time as it takes. I’ll use the tools that whole health has taught me. I will remain open to the hidden gifts of these situations. I will try to be kind to myself.
Most of all, I will continue to remind myself that whole health balance is securely tethered at an internal center. An inner sense of self, unaffected by change or transition and not fazed by self-judgements or feelings of inadequacy. All in all, when the dust settles, I’ll still be me.