I am so new at this. So new to showing up for myself.
I used to believe that I was doing it, but awakening has shown me otherwise. I wasn’t filling my own cup before filling the cups of others.
I am so new at this. So new to showing up for others.
I used to believe that I was doing that, too, but awakening has shown me otherwise. I wasn’t pouring into others after I had filled my own cup.
For a brief early moment in my awakening, I believed I was awakened enough to truly show up for others.
Spoiler Alert: I wasn’t.
Now I’m here. So new at showing up for myself while showing up for others.
I used to believe I could do both, that I was doing both, and that the problem was other people not showing up for themselves or for me.
The truth?
I’m still so new at this. So new at not knowing a goddamn thing.
And that feels exhausting. Frustrating. Confusing. Hopeless. And about a million unnamed emotions in between.
This convergence of newness–trying to show up for myself and others at the same time–creates moments where I stall. I default to old patterns. I fall into deep emotional wells. I struggle to love myself. I lose sight of where non-judgment even lives.
It’s (most eloquently) a clusterfuck.
I’ve gathered wisdom:
Lead with love.
Question my beliefs.
Ditch identity.
Beware the double edged sword of desire.
Step outside myself.
Be open to receiving, not just generating, wisdom.
And yet, I understand so little of it that I land in the extreme: I know nothing.
This is my critic. Masterful. Subtle. Taking over before I even notice.
Eventually, I do notice (waving little celebratory flag). I come back to myself and then comes the new wave: Sadness. Guilt. Shame. Confusion.
And there’s confusion again, circling back like it never left.
Then exhaustion. Frustration. Hopelessness. And all those other million unnamed emotions.
Because that’s the loop:
I judge myself for having emotions.
I judge myself for not moving through them fast enough.
I judge myself for not being smart enough to understand them.
It always lands here: I am not enough.
And with that belief still clinging to me, every small trigger swells into something I can’t manage.
Intellectually (whatever the fuck that means anymore), I know that my awareness is making my responses less reactive, but it’s not lessening enough. Because I’m not enough. If I were enough, I’d be across the finish line already.
Even here, I catch the irony. Blaming the critic feels easy, but this isn’t about fault. It’s about the process of learning. And in learning, there’s failure.
I can say “failure is for other people” all day, but I don’t believe it. My thinking brain refuses to let that belief go, which again, I understand is part of the problem.
And so, I write. Knowing these words might be reinforcing the belief and also knowing they’re helping me move through the moment.
Shut up, thinking brain.
Kidding.
Love you, thinking brain, but please step aside for the greater good, will you? Our good. You’re trying to help, I see that, but you need wisdom from me to keep us from spiraling.
We need wisdom from me.
And right now, that wisdom is this:
I love myself in this moment.
I accept myself in this moment.
