Some Late May Thoughts…

Sunset in Cicero, IN, May 2019.

A lot is starting to settle. It’s the end of the school year, and internally I’m doing a lot of reflecting. Gratitude is rising to the surface. Acknowledging the movement and accomplishments thus far, seems important.

I remember last summer. The increased energy I had. The nervousness and excitement as I looked forward to fall–with the ability to do more than I had in 5 or 6 years. I didn’t know if I was choosing to do too much. Like any illness though, you just have to try and adjust as needed.

I’m here to say, that I made it! There were many tiring days, as there will be! And yet I started my second year of my spiritual direction program, I embarked on my second year with my business, my students and families, I led a book group, and became more integrated within my church and with the online chronic fatigue community. I’m getting help creating a new website which will be up mid-summer!

I took time to rest, and yet realized I still needed more. I spent a short weekend up in Michigan, which I promised myself I would do more of. I’ve read tons of books, adjusted spiritual practices, have allowed myself to grieve, and laugh, go blueberry picking and apple picking, and not go to church on snow days. I’ve gone on many walks, visiting so many parks.

I’ve been examining my belief that “once I become healthier, I need to start doing more again.” Unearthing all that goes into this belief, has been a huge part of my year. Because I also want to rest more, to lean into pleasure, to be less productive just because. I want to explore without an agenda.

My worth isn’t tied to my work, and I am proud of the work that I do.

I do need quite a bit of time in solitude, and I long to be connected to community, even as my understanding of community continues to change and shift.

I feel like what is being brought to the surface is that I don’t need to punish myself for acknowledging my privileges. I can still be deeply connected to pleasure and to ask for what I need and be a white person.

Showing up to pleasure does not mean that I’m going to forget that I’m white! Sure, things can be challenging and confusing. And good things can also be filled with ease and joy. Sometimes, many times, actually I just don’t need to try that hard.

There will be many that don’t agree with this, and yet I am following my body’s wisdom. (And Pleasure Activism by adrienne maree brown is a pretty great book too!) I do believe that I’m on this earth to experience rest, joy, and pleasure. And I want to practice these things more with myself and with others.

Oh–and I’ve been writing this blog for over 4 years, since I was diagnosed with Hashimoto’s. Writing this has been a joy, my lifeline, my way to find myself again over and over. This blog will probably be changing soon, and I hope you will still come and read what I’m writing on my new website.

As for gratitude, here’s a few things that have made me smile recently.

  • Sunsets in Cicero, Indiana on Morse Reservoir
  • The children’s book Stonewall: A Building, an Uprising, A Revolution
  • Gluten-free lemon cake from Aldi!
  • Walks at Cool Creek Park with Cash
  • Disability Visibility Podcast with Alice Wong
  • Saturday morning farmer’s markets
  • My writing soon to be published on The Mighty!
  • Red Refresh Herbal Tea
  • The Nap Ministry

You may see less posts this summer to leave time for adventures and exploring. As summer comes, I’m going to relish time to just be.

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How to Be Loved: A Memoir of Lifesaving Friendship

I just finished this book earlier this week.

I saw it out of the corner of my eye when I was leaving the library after work on Friday afternoon. I read the title and immediately thought, “I need to read this.”

Thankful that I did.

Friendship has always been an essential and life-giving pulse to my life. And this book describes the dynamics of friendships within chronic illness and cancer and brain surgeries. And friendships are not the sub-plot, secondary characters–but friendship is the main thrust of the entire book.

I laughed and cried. I cherished this book, because in so many ways I felt like I was reading my story. Not because all the details were the same, yet similar thematic arcs.

2 people white people socialized as female. Dismissed by the medical system. Highly competitive, thinking you can just push through. Used to being individualistic, self-reliant. High disregard for the body. Begin to undergo this process of softening, begins seeing friends as people right in front of them, accepting what they have to offer. And from this transformation, seeing the world differently. Starting to see the systems behind individual illness cases.

“Parity was all I’d ever known about friendship. That a certain kind of score was kept. That reciprocity might not happen immediately, but that it needed to happen at some point: the invitation returned, the dinner bought, the phone call answered, the paper edited, the money sent. But I couldn’t reciprocate. Definitely not now, and possibly not ever. I think maybe just let them love you? Allison said, after another friend had come, given me food and a book, and left. I told her I’d try.”

The entire book explores the question, “What is the role of receptivity in friendship?” Can I just receive love because I believe I am worthy? And yet the book also dives into the difficult dynamics of boundaries within friendship, knowing one’s limits, what friendships can look like when multiple people have an illness. And of course, asking for help.

I’m so grateful this book has been written. I’m so grateful for my friendships–past and present. This memoir leaves everyone with the question, ‘To what extent am I valuing my friendships in the present moment?”

The White Card & the Abortion Ban

I just finished reading the play “The White Card” by Claudia Rankine. In her introduction, she states that the play took shape after a white man asked her, a black woman, a question at her poetry reading. He asked, “What can I do for you? How can I help you?”

To which she answered, “I think the question you should be asking is what you can do for you.”

The play explores theme of white saviorism and the many ways liberal white people may read all the “right books” and know all the “right terms” and yet what prevails is this dominant need for white people to “be right” and to imagine black people as always having needs that white people can heal.

We often don’t ask, “What is my need as a white person?” Not as a way to center in a conversation, but as an internal excavation. We often don’t ask this question in racial terms.

As I’ve seen the abortion vote occur in Alabama & Georgia–the focus is mainly on the cis white men who voted for the bill, but not on the white woman who sponsored the bill and the white female governor who signed it into law.

White women in particular want gender to be visible, but not whiteness. White women would like to present the fact that the women’s movement is united across race, when it isn’t.

Take time to notice the differences between the Guardian article and The Root article. The first is calling out Republican white men, the second white people as a whole.

May we follow the lead of black women who have been organizing around reproductive justice-and donate to their work! (Alicia Garza suggests Arc-Southeast, SPARK, Women’s Feminist Health Care Center.)

What is my need as a white person? I keep sitting with this question. It’s to know that if an immediate “What can I do?” question surfaces out of urgency, I need to ground and remember that black, indigenous & people of color have been doing this work forever. My urgency & lack of education does not help. It’s to know that I often lack historical grounding, and I need to educate myself. I can donate to local, grassroots organizations. I can follow the lead of people of color leading this work and discern my gifting and my limits. I can ask myself, “Is this work mine to do?” I can speak openly, I can direct others to these BIPOC orgs doing the work, I can speak with those in my spheres. I can stay in my lane. I can admit that I don’t know.

This work is both political & spiritual. Justice cannot be extracted from the spiritual realm.

So what can I do for me?

I can speak to the necessity for a spirituality that is grounded in justice as a spiritual director. I can read books, watch films, listen to music created by BIPOC. I can re-learn history from BIPOC historians. I can give my white students books to read that do not center their racial imagination & we can talk about it together. I can talk to other white people. I can accept that my own growth and unfolding is mysterious; it’s in giving up control. It’s about always changing and evolving. I can know that healing happens when my needs are not centered.

I can linger in this question when I don’t have any “answers” at all. I can regulate in my nervous system, be in my body, rest & experience pleasure.

And for all those who have been triggered deeply this past week, so much love. May pleasure and healing be yours.

Springtime

Photo by Gariele Wright on Unsplash

A big part of my continued healing journey is syncing my lifestyle with the seasons.

I really do love winter, in ways I haven’t come to love until recently. My birthday is in January, so is Christmas. I love staying inside, watching shows and reading. I do a vast amount of my reading for the year in the winter. And the energy that I preserve in the winter, I draw upon for the rest of the year.

My body knows when springtime is coming, not just because of the warmer weather. My body feels the dampness, the humidity, the pollen in the air, the invisible mold particles in ways other bodies do not.

Spring is the season of newness and renewal, and also the toughest season on my body. There’s a lot of practices that I adopt, particularly in the spring–whether it’s showering at night, taking quercetin to help with my histamine reactions to food, eating lower histamine foods, using a netti pot, more epsom salt baths to help clear my brain, more walks in parks and by creeks.

Spring means rest too, although the rest looks differently than winter. I take time out of my schedule to recover from environmental reactions–whether it be perfume, humid weather, a damp building. I have less reactions than I used to, and for this I’m very thankful. And I’m also glad for the shifts in belief as I heal. I love my body much more than a year ago.

I really don’t need to be more productive. So I’m going at my own pace. I finish my training in spiritual direction in just 6 weeks and I’m preparing now to launch a new website sometime this summer. These feel like big moments for my body, because setting up times to have new pictures done and having people help me with my website is very welcome help–and yet, it’s more appointments to fit in, and depending on the day, my body may or may not have energy for those.

Some days I come home from work, eat dinner and get in bed. That’s all I can do.

I’ve been haunted in a good way from the question, “What does it mean to get well, to be healed?” When that question is posed by doctors, it’s like my answer should fit into this ableist world –something to the effect of, “I can work a 60 hour/week job, run around after work with friends or family, thrive on 5 hours of sleep, and drink lots of coffee without having it affect my work or health.” That’s not my reality–and it’s not a reality I want.

Even though I have more energy than 5 years ago–I’m still tired. A lot. I still have work days that I barely get through. A lot of my free time is still spent resting, recovering, saving up energy to go to bigger events. I have free time that is spent at the doctor, at the chiropractor, in spiritual direction myself.

My tired body has asked me to make really clear what I have energy for and what I don’t. What I prioritize making time for, and what I don’t. My body lets me know when my actions are out of step with my values because extra fatigue will surface.

I still spent a lot of time in my bed. This can surprise people, because I can show up to more things than I used to. But so much writing, so much reading, listening to podcasts & music, watching movies and shows happens in bed. And these are all things I really enjoy. My bed feels like home. And the solitude that I exist in & have helped create feels beautiful.

Last weekend, I spent a lot of time by myself. I needed to rest. I needed to be in a really low-stimulation environment in order to gain some equilibrium back. And I read Care Work: Dreaming Disability Justice-the entire book in less than 24 hours. Time slowed down, I breathed deeper. I’ve been longing to learn about the history and origin story of disability justice for awhile, and it was a joy to learn, to be. I will be writing more in later posts!

For now I’m returning to the quiet, when I need it, because as astrologer Shaunga Tagore said in my birth chart reading, “There’s so much life in the quiet.”

I need the quiet as I embrace what is unfolding this springtime, even as I rest. Even as I undo the belief that “Warmer weather means that I need to be busier.” Even as I anticipate the change that is coming.

Who I’ve Been Reading/Listening To in Bed Regarding Disability Justice!

Thoughts about Writing

Photo by Simson Petrol on Unsplash

writing has always been how i process, how i make sense of the world, how i just write in my journal like i’m talking to a friend.

writing is how i’ve learned to be a friend to myself.

writing is how i learned to tell the truth. and gave me courage to actually speak it out loud. and i continue to learn truth-telling and courage daily.

writing will always be there.

writing can happen anywhere. i just wrote while eating breakfast at a favorite local spot and i got stared at like “why are you alone and why are you writing?” to which my inward reply was, “why wouldn’t i be writing?”

writing allows me to be disorganized. this enneagram 1 needs a few spaces that are messy and completely disorganized. my journal is one of those places.

writing need not be published to have value.

i teach writing to students who hate writing and i think that’s funny. and i don’t tell them that they need to like writing.

i have enjoyed not blogging as much this year. but i’ve probably written more. i’ve almost finished my second journal of the year already.

writing helps me to cultivate my interior depth. and i’m learning to love this about myself more and more.

writing allows me to be petty or silly. or both.

writing reminds me not to take myself so seriously, and also to take myself seriously. writing can hold all that ambiguity.

writing is a companion through all the emotions.

“Staying Small to Stay Safe”

This phrase shows up a lot in healing stories and healing spaces. I just read a story that had this exact phrase. And this morning when I read it, my body recoiled.

So as I went about my morning, I let myself be curious. Not to “figure it out” but simply to be with my body’s wisdom. To connect with my passion and my anger, and just let them be with me.

Let me start by saying, in general, what is meant by this phrase seems okay. Because of various identities and realities, we all to some degree, hide in order to stay safe, maybe to very literally survive.

Then the healing narrative takes a turn where someone takes a risk and shows up more fully as themselves, vulnerably and in their power. Don’t get me wrong, I too believe this is a good thing.

And yet, there’s more resistance in me still, because I believe that more nuance can exist. In the spiritual plane I do believe that there is enough to go around when we all show up in our power. There is enough and we are enough.

And. On this physical plane-racism. classism. sexism. homophobia. transphobia. ableism. capitalism. etc. We all hold differing identities, and some of us are more marginalized than others. Some of us will be more protected when we show up BIG in this world (namely, white people).

But, who defines what showing up BIG even means (usually white men)? Sure, each person can define what showing up BIG means for themselves, and yet to pretend that we aren’t influenced by white capitalist patriarchy would be the BIGGEST lie.

So the questions I’m wondering about this morning is: (and this is for my white friends) could staying small actually mean power? could backing up actually be liberatory? could listening transform our outlook? could speaking just mean one voice among many, rather than THE objective voice? could quietness backed by action be revolutionary? could rest mean that we are left to notice the dominance we hold in our bodies, and to ask new questions so that healing can take place?

Simply put, I think “staying small to stay safe” is ableist. I think that “staying small to thrive” can be a deep, robust reality.

I am a white person who lives with a chronic illness & has tons of internalized ableism I work through every day–and will continue to. It’s difficult to conceive of the healing journey other than “getting better”-where someone else external to me has defined what “getting better” means. And usually that means healing for the sake of being more productive, and being less of a drain to people who can be more productive than me, who take on more work.

Being sick for half my life, has meant that I have done deep thinking and acceptance around the reality of limitation. To the point now where my limitations are a source of joy. And because I find joy with limitation, I don’t equate “staying small” with “bad” with “not enough” with “there’s so much more for you.”

Honestly, staying small has transformed my life. It brings me to the present moment of “enough-ness” no matter how I feel. Staying small disrupts the messages of capitalism, even for a moment–and just says, “rest, you deserve it. yes, even if you’ve been resting all day. rest some more.”

I believe my growth so far in this life has been lingering in the smallness, in the hidden spaces, not needing to showcase it, but at various moments sharing freely. And a lot of the time, spiritual transformation businesses and courses are just about capitalism, disguised with “spiritual” language.

Doing more. Showing up more. Extending more. Even being more.

Yes, sometimes these are what is needed. I completely agree. If we are stuck in paralysis and guilt and overwhelm, moving to action is healthy. And sometimes the quiet work is unacknowledged–or assumed that the quiet work needs to have a certain public element at some point. And all I am saying is maybe not. And maybe the quiet work is showing up in how I relate, even if there is no “production value.”

White Fragility & the Nervous System

Photo by Thought Catalog on Unsplash

My grandmother, my mom’s mother, died a few years ago. My mom and her spent a lot of time in those final years working on our family’s ancestry. But it wasn’t until my grandma died, and my mom was helping her siblings clean out the house, that she found a box with some papers that she had never seen.

My grandma, in the final year of her life, was asking the tough question: “Did our family own slaves?”

The papers she found showed that our family owned many more acres in central Georgia prior to the Civil War than she thought–pointing to the obvious fact that our family did indeed own slaves.

There was a reason my grandma hid those papers, and did not have this conversation when she was alive. The shame about our legacy is strong and unrelenting.

Robin diAngelo coined the term white fragility describing the defensive moves white people make when even a minimal amount of racial discomfort surfaces. Why? Well, I don’t have time to write about this here, but read Robin’s book!

The past few years of my healing & spiritual journey has been about exploring ancestry, my illness & how it affects my body, racism, white identity development, my creativity & writing.

And when my mom told me that story, I know that there were layers there for me to explore. You see, I’m also the fifth generation who has a thyroid related disease. Mine being the most severe in a low-thyroid autoimmune disease, Hashimoto’s, and leading to a complete lack of life force by the time I was 19, and almost an inability to get out of bed when I was 24.

There’s a lot of writing about thyroid diseases broken down by gender however there’s only one study I can find breaking it down by race.

It’s far more likely for a white woman to have Hashimoto’s, and far more likely for a black or Asian woman to have Grave’s disease. Both of these are thyroid disorders, however Hashimoto’s consists of an under-activated thryoid gland, while Grave’s consists of an over-activated thyroid gland.

The explanations given are due to genetic factors & environmental triggers, which is my opinion includes about everything! There is much study to be done in this realm, but there are questions that I am asking.

And I want to point out that I’m not a scientist, a historian, or a trauma-specialist. This is not a post, where I claim to be any of that! This is more of a post of my spiritual wonderings and questions, and is still very much in process!

I was in a class about a year ago, when a healer stated, “One usually contracts a thyroid disease when one is silent about their truth when it is time to speak.”

And that phrase gave me pause. Intuitively, it rang with deep truth & yet I was also asking, “What was the truth that I needed to speak when I was 18?”

As I asked that question, over the course of a few months, I realized that question was too isolated. “What is the truth that my family has been silent about over the generations, whose physical manifestation has resulted in sluggish energy & a blocked thyroid?”

Almost as soon as that question formed, the image of my grandma’s hidden box of papers came to my mind. “My family owned slaves. We are ashamed about it, because it was been hidden. It is not a story we have passed down, but have kept that energy in our bodies and our cells. Letting the secret grow, even though no black person would be shocked by this story. We have not chosen to heal, we have not chosen to speak. And it hurts ourselves and people of color every day.”

I’ve been reading the book My Grandmother’s Hands by Resmaa Menakem in community over the past year. In the book, he states, “For America to outgrow the bondage of white-body supremacy, white Americans need to imagine themselves in black bodies and experience what those bodies had to endure. They also need to do the same with the bodies of their own white ancestors. And they need to ask themselves this question: “If we don’t address our ancient historical trauma, what will we pass down to our children, and to their children and grandchildren?”

I can’t help but wonder if the majority of people with Hashimoto’s, including myself, are white–how does the sluggish energy, the unrelenting fatigue, the body start to attack its own tissue, reflect the white ancestral condition? We hurt people of color by not choosing to heal, and we also hurt ourselves. Our nervous systems remain fragile, feeling like any ounce of conflict derails our healing.

I can’t help but wonder if a majority of people with Graves are black because the thyroid must be over-active, hyper-vigilant in order to navigate a racist society. The weathering effect was coined by Arline Geronimus and can be read about here.

As I come to the end of the post, there are no next steps. I think that the question, “What do we do now?” is a disembodied question stemming from guilt and fear, and trying to “get it right.” My practices may be different than yours. My questions may be different than yours. Maybe you hated this whole post. I will say though that developing a relationship with my gut has been key. Healing my gut is a huge piece of healing autoimmune disease, and discovering all the emotions, and questions, and insights that reside there. Check out Tada Hozumi’s work to learn more.

Lastly, to all the people who are white & sick, I see you. We can do this. We can heal. Our idea of healing may need to shift. We need to bring ancestral resources forward that we didn’t know that we had. And we don’t need to take up more room as we do this. And we can be supported. I don’t believe that blaming ourselves for being sick has any place in our community. And I think that while continuing to hope and search and advocate for a cure–is needed and crucial, on multiple levels, I also believe in all the emotional and spiritual resources inside us. It’s time.

Diagnosis Day

On February 3, 2015 I was diagnosed with Hashimoto’s. That day changed my life in many ways, and it was also ordinary.

After the 2 hour long appointment, I took a nap, and read all this literature about changing my diet. Yet, that was the starting point.

I’ve learned so much these last 4 years–and I keep learning. There’s been deep inner work, there’s been healing, and yet an ongoing realization that I don’t just exist on this earth to produce things. I exist just to be. To be myself. To be in loving relationship. To love myself.

So healing for me hasn’t been about “getting my life back.” The life I had before my diagnosis was pretty empty. I thought belonging was about fitting in and being able to do what I saw my friends doing.

It’s not. Healing is about knowing myself, knowing others, knowing the Divine.

My illness has led me to this place; and at this point I count it as a gift. I would never wish this illness on anyone, and to those who have it, I would say, “maybe the invitation is to find who you really are.”

No more over-extending. No more not speaking my truth.

Sure, I will make mistakes and lose my way. But I trust myself to find my lane again. And that makes all the difference.

Oh-and please check out The Nap Ministry.

And please check out Rest for Resistance.

Below is the ending of a poem I wrote to commemorate this year’s Diagnosis Day. My illness is speaking to me.

I am a lonely companion, taking you to peer at this shifty shadow. But I am near, and you will grow. Yes, slow. Yes, risk. Yes, joy. Yes, help. Yes, you are stronger than you ever dare know.

Taking Deep Breaths

Photo by Victor Garcia on Unsplash

I saw the doctor yesterday. It was a good appointment. I went on a few new supplements (after going off almost all of them last spring because I was doing so much better!) to help with the ongoing GI infection that affects the absorption of nutrients.

I was reminded that I am sick.

This feels like an unusual statement even to write. Of course, I know, and yet as healing happens, it can be difficult to actually grasp how much I am doing right now–and how much rest I still need and want to engage in, because of all that I’m doing.

I was reminded in a simple way that as life goes on and I meet new people, that each person knows a piece. That’s how life is.

My doctor told me that I needed to slow down, needed to simplify, needed to go back to eating less inflammatory foods, while I continue to heal my GI tract. Yes, I needed that reminder.

Healing is fluid. Sometimes healing means doing more. Sometimes doing less. It requires a receptive posture and a deep trust in one’s intuition to know the difference.

Sometimes it means accepting & heeding warnings from others, and sometimes it means simply knowing that they don’t truly understand and their advice is coming from their own discomfort. Trusting myself, while still being deeply connected in relationship.

I also just started seeing an amazing chiropractor. I’m thankful. I’ve been having increasing low back & neck pain. He just told me yesterday that my body has a difficult time truly resting; sinking into my parasympathetic nervous system. And I said, “Yep, that sounds about right!” The every day task of healing from an autoimmune disease, and living with it. And connecting with this phenomenon on a spiritual plane and knowing this is also connected to ancestry and whiteness. I carry a lot in my body and healing is my task in this lifetime.

I was reminded how light it feels to ask for help. To accept help from humans, but also from nature, from the Divine. To accept help from friends, from scientists, from plants, from myself, from doctors, from family, from my ancestors.

I sat down with a friend for lunch today, who also lives with chronic illness, and just explained how difficult it is to be working full time and finishing out my spiritual direction certification right now. We talked about pacing-about the dance of adding things in, needing to cut them out, and knowing the right time for each. Trusting the wisdom of the body. Taking ourselves seriously and be willing to accept what we need. Taking ourselves lightly, and knowing that whatever we are saying “no” to isn’t us “missing out” but it’s a gateway for permission to say yes for what we really need in the moment. Everything will be okay without us, even if being absent stings a little bit.

I said “no” to being present for a presentation that I helped plan for a few months. And I moved on, accepting that the no was the right thing for me.

In the midst of all these personal decisions, Nathan Phillips sang in the midst of racist acts by the Covington Catholic white boys, and Martin Luther King was honored in some places, and white-washed in others.

I’m talking with my students, teaching, guiding, laughing–pushing back against “love & light” MLK quotes, talking about the Covington Catholic white boys’ racism–pushing back against white silence.

Then there’s resting. And detaching myself from outcomes. And accepting that I’m not in control. And breathing deeply. 2019 is bringing deeper acceptance of this quiet work. It’s already helping me create a new container around what is mine to do.

I’m in my Saturn return year! And I’m excited to see what changes, where I expand and grow and heal. And also, everything is intense (And this Capricorn season kinda felt terrible!) And I’m claiming what belongs, and learning to see what I need to let go of, where I need to become softer.

A Day to Practice

The practice of reflection and setting goals in the New Year is a funny one to me. The mind can dream big and it can play small. We can express lofty hopes or hide behind our fears.

This practice isn’t “bad”; I engage in it myself. And yet the good-bad binary doesn’t get us very far. What struck me today, as it does most days, is that my body has far more to say than my mind. I’ve been socialized to see what my mind has to say as more valid, more important, more urgent, more in need of attention, love & care. This is what colonization does; elevate the mind to the detriment of everything else—mind, soul & spirit.

I slept well last night, even though I went to bed past midnight. But I woke up exhausted, sad even. I engaged in my morning rituals and practices, and felt a little more energized. But by the time I got out of the shower, I was exhausted again. I felt tender, and just let the tears come.

My mind had all sorts of things to say.

“Push through; there’s stuff you wanted to do today.”

“It’s the New Year, you’re not supposed to feel sad.”

“Maybe tweaking what you eat for lunch will make you less tired.”

I’ve had lots of practice not pushing through. Of resting. Of cancelling. Of saying no. These phrases were old tapes, yes. But also just not as nourishing as accepting the tears as they came. The tears doing all the expression of disappointment without my mind needing to rush all over the place.

Yes, it’s New Years. And it’s just another day to practice. It’s a day to validate my emotions, validate how my body feels, and let my feelings and sensations lead the way. Validating how I actually feel, rather than how I want to feel. Taking the time to be in the moment with myself. The invitation is always there.

The invitation to receive, to be vulnerable, to rest, to feel how I feel. This invitation can be painful, and yet as I cried today, I knew it to be a gift. A gift to let my day be reorganized based on what my body can do, what it needs. And to smile towards myself for listening.