Oh, my sweets. We let so much garbage into the clean world village of our minds. It's gross, really, once you start really sweeping in the corners, lifting up the rugs, checking out what's underneath the beds, stashed in high cupboards... You find cobwebs stretched between rafters littered with hateful graffiti--*not good enough,* *failure,* *selfish,* *incapable,* *ugly,* and on and on.
And that's just the family-friendly language I've found up there. Anxiety is an acid and, my god, does it ever destroy from the inside-out. It is a bully and a tormentor, an artist in terror and a sculptor of panic. And anxiety is good, man. Good at hiding in corners, jumping out just after you've had the best day of your life, stalking you back to your warm, bright home, then sucking out that brightness like some rogue spirit.
Some days, it's all we can do (all I can do, anyway) to walk out of the house, despite my tools--my years and years of yoga, of meditation, of herbal medicine, flower essences, essential oils, mantras, and talismans.
Finally, I realized, the only way to kick these roaming bandits from my little city is NOT TO LET THEM IN in the first place. I control these gates. That's the only thing, really, I can control. And, man, that is some kind of power. Some kind of magic. I can open my mouth and a voice--mine, but more than mine--bellows to them to turn back. This is a space for humanity, for kindness, for WORTHINESS, for god's sake. Why be bullied again and again when we have such power.
Open your gates, but open your heart as well. Teach yourself the fine, fierce art of the word *no.*
No more. Not here.