Why this post was so hard to write
This was taken from a newsletter I sent out. I thought it was worth sharing here as well.
This is going to be an honest email. Maybe too honest? TH instead of TMI?
These emails I send out are sometimes hard for me to write. That’s not exactly accurate. The actually writing of the emails, the physical act, is not really that hard. Often it’s even fun. I like playing with the format and the colors.
It’s the pre-writing that’s the struggle. It’s the thinking about the emails that causes me agony. It’s the doom and gloom, vicious, fast-talking thoughts in my mind that can paralyze me, fill me with anxiety, depression creeping in, unable to move even as those thoughts also yell at me to “get going! Get things done! This isn’t hard! What’s wrong with you?!”
And this morning is rough. I’m writing this email in real time, regardless of what time I actually send it. This is happening now.
All my skills seemed to have failed me. Where’s the compassion I advocate? Where’s the listening? Where are the tools I teach others? I can see them. I “know” how to address what’s going on but I can’t seem to actually do anything. Do you ever feel like that and think that way? It sucks.
What’s happened to all the years and effort I’ve put into bodywork systems? What’s happened to all the time I’ve spent exploring the mind? What’s happened to the skill I thought I had? Has it all been for nothing? Right now it seems so.
And yet.
Even as I write these thoughts there’s a pinprick of clarity in me that sees more, that recognizes the fact that even my writing this shows I’m not who I once was. Years ago I might have had an episode like this that would last for days. It would have me cutting my arms to punish myself for not being better and because the physical pain of the blade helped relieve the internal emotional and mental agony I was experiencing. Years ago my anxiety would have me shutting myself in a closet, overwhelmed with the fear of speaking to anyone or taking any kind of action. But that’s not happening now. And you know what? Even if it were happening, that would be ok. It would just be what’s happening.
So when those thoughts arise that say I don’t have any skill, that I’ve wasted years of my life on this bodymind stuff, that I’ll never truly change, that the work I do is bullshit…
I just can’t believe them.
They’re just not true. And that’s pretty amazing. Because years ago, forget about not believing those thoughts, I would have been so unconsciously in their grip I wouldn’t have even known they were happening. I would have just felt horrible.
Now I’ve found my breath again. Does that make everything else go away? No. But I’m glad it’s there.
Is this the email I thought I was going to write? Not. At. All. But guess what? It’s the one that came out. There’s a lesson there.
Why am I sharing this? Do I need a reason? Do I need to justify it? I’m sure there is a reason but I’m not going to try to figure it out right now. Reasons come on their own time, they always do, even if it’s years later. On my teaching room door I have Post-It notes with various lessons that have come up in my work with others. One says, “The reason is interesting but not important.” I’m going to honor that now.
Does any of this resonate with you? If it would help to share it with someone, to not keep it to yourself, feel free to hit reply. I won’t share it with anyone else; I’ll just receive it and listen. I think I’m good at that, with some moments where I’m not, particularly concerning myself. And that’s ok.
💙 Ian
Here’s a picture of my dog. Because.
