monthly musings - summer 2019

I’ve been meaning to write this update for almost two months, but just hadn’t known what to say. This summer has been a series of highs and lows — of times marked by feelings of love and gratefulness, but others marked by feelings of sadness and uncertainty about the decisions to be made regarding the future. Until now — a point at which I’ve had a little time and space to reflect on the past few months — I wasn’t able to understand the overall significance of this rollercoaster of emotions that seemed to affect me on an unusually deeper level. Just as a rollercoaster demands your full attention (what I’d presume to be feelings of exhilaration or trepidation), I too was pulled deeper into the waves of emotions that surfaced according to the present moment. Contrary to my normal tactic of trying to maintain a consistently level-headed demeanor, I was simply feeling.

We all have a voice that speaks to us nonstop in our minds. It’s a voice that defaults to a negative and hypercritical monologue and speaks from a place of judgement and unworthiness. For years, I allowed my mind to listen to what this voice was telling me - I listened as if this voice actually knew me.

Specifically, this entailed focusing my attention on analyzing, tracking, predicting, and comparing everything and anything to determine the next “right step” for my journey towards once again becoming a healthy, independent, and what I perceived to be a capable adult. These thought patterns and expectations stemmed from a place of knowing - of assuming the ongoing monologue in my mind would prepare me to make clear and useful decisions.

In truth, this voice doesn’t always know what’s best for me, but my heart does.

This understanding has led me to intentionally dropped out of thinking and into feeling. By turning my attention inwards, I’ve practiced shifting out of the analytical aspect of decision making and into a heart-felt, intuition-based place of intention-setting. As corny as it sounds, I’ve never felt so aligned with my own feelings, as well as the feelings of those around me. My heart has softened and opened which has lead to answers emerging and desires manifesting.

What I’ve learned is that we’re all going to experience pain, but when our hearts are broken or wounded, they’re also open to new possibilities. Gone are the mind’s preconceived notions of what’s best for you because heartbreak and trauma certainly weren’t on the list of approved activities. Gone are the mind’s instructions to ignore the pain and bury the emotional ramifications. By silencing the voice in our mind, we can better allow the uncomfortable emotions of a present moment to move fluidly through our heart. By deeply feeling these sentiments, we become more capable of growing through difficult situations.

In difficult situations, our brain wants to default to the familiar — for me, this entails making decisions based on what other people think and assuming that I will continue be sick for the foreseeable future. This summer, I reached a point when I was tired of the voice providing foundations for these hyper-critical thoughts. Desires and decisions made from a place of fear and judgement were not what I needed, nor would they help me get where I wanted to go.

This summer, I wanted to be energetic enough to keep up with the social pace of the season, but I needed to accept my limitations.

This summer, I wanted to be well enough to consider transitioning into a part-time work arrangement, but I needed to listen to my body.

This summer, I wanted someone to tell me what to do, but I needed to tune into my intuition.

By no means has it been easy to supersede these wanting thoughts, but once I opened my heart and tapped into the feelings of my heart, the answers began to appear. For example, while I still gathered information pertaining to options to improve my health and returning to work, the final decisions ended up coming from my heart. I realized if I was considering further treatment to eradicate my ongoing symptoms, returning to a full-time consulting position — a role that would without doubt increase additional physical stress and fatigue — was not in my best interest; however, a part-time role with flexible hours would be.

It has required acceptance to know that my journey to a full recovery is still underway, courage to let go of the comfort of knowing things for sure, and faith that other opportunities for healing and professional endeavors will arise. I can honestly say, instead of worrying about the timeline of events to come, I’m enjoying the process, each moment at a time.