Learning to Love the Paradox

Please be gentle with me. I am writing my memoir, one of them at least. I may never publish it but that’s not the point anyway. I’m doing it for me.

I wrote for a few hours yesterday. It was painful. I could feel rage rising as I finished. I knew I needed to take a break; I knew I needed to attend to my self care. And so I did.

I feel like I am pulling myself down into a hole, unwinding the past. I wonder why I’m doing it. I could stop, but I see that it is necessary for the next big phase I’m moving into. I don’t have to forge ahead without thinking of my self care needs, but I do need to keep going. I am trusting the process.

I cannot tell you how many times in life I have felt so fucked up. I feel pretty fucked up right now, having written, and seeing my past so clearly. But I also know that’s a story I tell myself, the story of my past, the story that I can, will and am breaking free from. That’s why I’m writing after all. I see that there have been many steps forward followed by as many steps backward. I also see resilience. And courage. And the fact that I’m still here, wanting to be the best me I can be.

It’s such a strange thing to feel like a walking paradox, but that is how I feel most days. I see the fucked-up-ness of my reality while at the same time seeing my beauty and all of the possibility that exists within me.

I am doing all of the practices that are important to me, practices that sustain my sanity and help me continue to be the person I want to be, the person who is aware of her tendencies, who is working with them gently, day by day, and giving herself enough grace for mistakes and forgiveness.

Photo by Riccardo Mion on Unsplash