We are problem-solvers by nature--every single one of us. It's a skill we've very obviously inherited, considering we're here at all. All it takes, and maybe this is the hard bit, is a few moments of calm, a few moments of silence, and a few moments of clear sight. Is it impossible to achieve all three simultaneously? Perhaps, especially the latter, but like everything else, all it takes is a bit of patience and a bit of practice.
For now, just tell yourself this and believe it: there is no situation from which you cannot emerge. Undamaged? Whole? Those labels are up for debate. But in my book, if you emerge? You emerge keeping your whole self, everything that matters, and that, petals, is nothing short of a triumph.
I don't know when worry and fear and dreadful anticipation became my go-to for every situation, event, or obligation. Surely that kind of grueling slog through the days cannot possibly be our default setting. So that means we learned it along the way or taught it to ourselves for one reason or another. I think for me, it was the latter.
I'm not sure when or why, but I think--like so many of us struggling with these issues--I have an outsized sense of responsibility. You know? Are you with me? It's hard to remember the 'not my circus, not my monkeys' truth that is most of what happens around us in life. It's a confusion of compassion and empathy for responsibility. Perhaps this is the case for those of us with a less-developed emotional vocabulary. Perhaps we feel something stir in our heart, in our soul, and immediately assume we're responsible for that being.
You know, maybe that's a learned distinction for some of us--that love can be love without the burden of responsibility. We've...
I've discovered this trick about state of mind and storytelling. Most (almost all) of our fears are self-inflicted, self-taught, self-maintained, and it all has to do with our self-narration. More often than not, that narration has no words (at least for me), but it definitely has a vibration--anxiety, powerlessness, helplessness, panic, anticipation, exhaustion, etc.
That vibration becomes so rote that it becomes automatic truth--no questions asked. (And when, dearest petals, have we ever not questioned the 'truth'??). But, yes, I get it--it's hard to ask questions, rationally, objectively, in a state of high vibration.
Enter the simple act of storytelling. Instead of going within, giving in to the "I" statements in your head, turn the narration to the third person and make yourself capable, strong, steady, whatever you need: "Though it was Monday and Amy woke up with that familiar feeling of the weight of another week, she remembered how powerfully she'd blasted through harder weeks,...