Why Not Me?
Tuesday, Dec. 13, 22
I had this moment last night…I used to wake up in the middle of the night stressed, anxious and the longer I would go without falling asleep, the more anxious and stressed I would get. Yes the things that stressed me out then are still there every single day, every single night…money, health, family, relationships, work…and yes I still struggle to find a way to face these stressors head on, with a constant desire to cover them with a fog of denial but there is a difference now. I see it. Maybe its because I am used to little to no sleep after having children, or maybe its because I know now how little sleep a person can actually function on…I actually find I have some of my best aha moments during this time. I meditate, dream of the possibilities and practice affirmations. I feel my desires and try to unearth what I really want. Because I started this journey on manifestation and mindfulness during one of the worst times of my life. A time of family conflict, a time of Covid lock down, turmoil, stress…the words to describe that time are painful and endless. But I found a way during that time to begin to change my mindset. To see the infinite possibilities that are out there in the world and to try and wake up excited for the days, even if they were seemingly bleak and depressing. During the time of this awakening I have found some amazing new tools, and have definitely felt a shift in my mindset. BUT I am not where I want to be because I don’t think I have really figured out where it is that I actually want to go! Do I want to start a business, become a coach, write a book? All of the above! Last night at about 3:11 in the morning I realized one of my most limiting beliefs…I still don’t think I have a story worth telling. I want to inspire, write and create but I was confident in the fact that I wasn’t going to use my history, my past as a way to tell my story. But how can I disassociate myself form my past when that is such a crucial part of who I am. I thought, no one wants to hear about my depression, my anxiety, my eating disorder. Everyone has a “thing”, no one cares what mine is or what mine was. We live in a world where these words are second nature, and because everyone has a “thing” it doesn’t feel like there is anything unique about my story to share. And as soon as I had the thought of “no one cares” I realized that that mindset is truly holding me back. I thought “Who is to dictate whether or not I use my experiences to plow forward? Everyone has a thing, for sure, but no one has my things. What if I can use my story to help, heal and inspire. And you know what, if I cant, if I don’t then that’s okay too. I need to know that whatever I am creating, writing, putting out there into the universe I am doing because it aligns with me and who I am. How can I put a version of myself out there into the world while pretending such a massive part of me doesn’t exist or never did exist. Because when I dig deep I want to write. I want to use words. I need to get over the fear that my reality is going to hurt those close to me, shock those that maybe didn’t know that side of me or embarrass those that don’t want to acknowledge that these were all parts of me, and still are. I need to acknowledge the pills, the hospital stays, the hours spent throwing up, the crippling anxiety, the bathroom floors I couldn’t get up from. Yes even the glass, the cuts, the fog that I wanted to remain in. It is not the pretty part of my story, it is not the 3:00 a.m repeating affirmations part of my story but it is part of my story and maybe what is holding me back from finding out what I really want to do on this journey is that complete attempt to deny that part of me and my story. Does it scare me to put the truth out into the world where my parents, my husband, in laws and possibly even my children one day can see it? Or co-workers, parents or students…yes it’s terrifying! But if we still live in a day in age that we are ashamed of this truth, that we can’t acknowledge this side of our stories as professionals, as mothers, or wives than I am not being authentically myself. Even as I write this I feel my mind playing games on me…telling me what you are saying as been said before, you aren’t saying anything original, nothing you have to offer is unique so why would anyone care. But I think in order to find out where I want to go on this path, this is where I need to start. Maybe by telling my story, not from where I found manifestation and mindset but from the place of pain and mental illness. Because what I keep coming back to time and time again is that I want to write.
