I went to bed early. Like way early. And then I woke up at an ungodly hour. There’s a 5 o’clock in the morning too. Who knew.
So I did what any reasonable person would do. I read book reviews on my phone in bed. I came across the scathing opinion of one reader. Mind you, I haven’t read the book. But the feelings in the review…
It got me thinking. About healing. And self-care. And about hiding from what will make us better. About being mad at other people who are healing because it spotlights the places we are still sick.
The process of pursuing health often looks ridiculous from the outside. It looks selfish. Downright weird. Believe me, it feels weird on this side of it, too. The growing pains, the exhaustion, the unusual choices.
The thing is, staying where you are is a choice. And timidly peeking your head out from under your pain to look for help is a choice. And both of the choices will hurt. Hugging your abuse tumor hurts. Getting it removed hurts. Emotionally crippled hurts. Reconstructing your heart hurts too. But the sickness kills.
I put off a lot of things that could help make me well because it felt like it was too big of a deal. It felt selfish. I felt unworthy of them. My luggage wasn’t heavy enough to merit getting someone to carry it for me. I put down people who I felt were recklessly open to caring for their hearts. It wasn’t proper. It was self centered and irresponsible.
Irresponsible is knowing you have something eating away at you that keeps you from living. It’s knowing that part of you is crushed and dying and that the dying part is hurting you and your closest tribe. And choosing to look the other way. Denial will decimate you so much quicker than the sting of admission. It will hurt your people. It will drain the color from the sky.
Does something feel not quite right? Trust that. Educate yourself. Search for answers. Do weird things like yoga on your back deck. And if you’re wrong about something helping you, scrap it for something you’ve found works better. There’s absolutely no shame in changing course when you learn a new thing.
The harshest protests often come from the greatest pain.
- “I wish I could just throw money at my problems.”
- “The rest of us just have to suck it up.”
- “Wow. Look at that mess.”
Um, yeah. Pot, meet kettle. Mirror, mirror…
It’s longing. It’s jealousy. It’s the desire in ourselves for improvement. It’s called hope. And fear. It’s a terrible dance. I know I can be whole but I’m afraid I can’t be. I want life but I’m terrified it will kill me. I am too big of a mess and I think it might not be bad enough to merit all that.
Listen to the warrior inside that you keep trying to hush. You are a hero. Put on your damn cape.