Pause. I’m in shock. How did I get here again? Shit! I’ve been swept away, like surfing on a tidal wave, feeling high and accomplished when on it but seeing the falsehood of this as the wave washes away and I am sitting in it’s path of destruction.
I’m sitting at the bottom of myself, in a hole with my shadows. At first, I am terrified, frozen in fear and physical pain. Hands reach out and I don’t know how to grab them. Still, they are comforting. They are there, noticing I have fallen, partly because my body has spoken, partly because my spirit is knocked down too.
As I sit in the bottom of my cup, I am still. Old patterns would have me clawing, grasping for a way out through a plan, a path forward, the DOing of action to escape the discomfort of BEing in my pain. My body needs slow to recover and so I push away the urge to grasp through DOing and sit in it.
I feel lost. And the hands that were reaching out to pull me up are now dangling, still too far to reach, reminding me I’m not alone as I sit. All the things I’ve been holding together, the balls I’ve been juggling, have fallen down. And it’s ok. I’m ok.
Despite not knowing my way forward I know I am not alone and to be seen in my darkness is healing. So, I show up. I go to my Roots to Thrive meetings, not as a Facilitator but as a human. Just show up. Do the next right thing, one step at a time, feeling my way through.
As I sit in this virtual circle, feeling like I’ve opened a portal to my darkness by opening Zoom. I feel comfort knowing I am safe to be authentic. “You don’t always have to smile,” whispers a reminder from my heart.
As others share, my body responds with signals, sensations that bring light back where darkness felt heavy. In listening, I am reminded I am not alone. In witnessing, I see pieces of myself that had been frozen in pain, reflected back at me and igniting a spark, albeit small, to initiate the thaw. I leave with love and gratitude for those in this space who have gifted me hope, belonging, courage and kindness while mine weren’t accessible. “I am love,” whispers my heart.
I remain in the depths of my darkness, unsure of what is to come. “Stop talking and listen,” my heart reminds me. My heart has a knowing that if I stay here, at the bottom of my cup, BEing, healing, listening, that I won’t have to plan, think, clutch, grasp my way forward. BEing is good enough. Showing up is enough. I am enough. One thing at a time, feeling my way through is all I have to do. The Universe and my heart will take care of the rest.
Written by Kate Wilton August 20, 2021
