Tag Archives: Inspiration

Truth #1: You are worthy.

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Sausalito Sunrise color

Sausalito Sunrise color (Photo credit: davidyuweb)

 “I wish I could show you, when you are lonely or in darkness, the astonishing light of your own being.” ~Hafiz

A few weeks ago, I posted a question on a social forum.  It read, “Is anyone else here familiar with self-sabotage?”  The responses were staggering.  Most of the replies came to me in the form of private messages, while a few brave souls contributed descriptions of their experiences and thoughts publicly.  Silently, covertly, I had been intimate with self-sabotage for my entire adult life (and perhaps longer).  But I had no idea that so many others out there had this long, tenuous, frustrating relationship with self sabotage, too.

Does the following description sound like you?

You’ve heard the word ‘potential’ thrown your way, or you’ve seen glimpses of your own talents, skills, and dare I say, gifts; but you passively watch from afar, thinking, hmmm, maybe someday. Or maybe others have extended their hands in friendship or interest, but you’ve neglected to reach out and grab a hold of them in return. Or perhaps you’ve made mistakes – bad ones – and though you are fully aware of what you did wrong and how to avoid those transgressions in the future, you repeat those very same mistakes yet again!  If any of this sounds familiar, then it’s possible that on some level, you don’t feel worthy – worthy of success, worthy of attracting good things, worthy of friends, worthy of whatever else your subconscious may feel unworthy of.

Since so many of us are clandestinely sabotaging our own success or happiness, let’s get it all on the table right now:

So maybe you were abused, insulted, neglected, or bullied, and you’re still reeling from that.  Or maybe you just have this incredibly obnoxious rambling inner voice that tells you you’re no good, so why even try.  Or maybe you’ve succumbed to addiction and you just see no way out.  There are a million and ten different reasons why people self-sabotage or feel unworthy, but no matter the original cause, what’s at the root of it now that we’re adults?   A disbelief in what you could actually be, which is exponentially more brilliant than you may be comfortable admitting.  We don’t think we’re worth it … pursuing that passion or god-given gift, accepting that friendship, internalizing the lesson behind that mistake.  And so we sit there, passive, wanting but not wanting, wishing for happiness but not actually trying to achieve it.

What sends me in a tizzy is realizing - really, fully realizing – that this life I am living, this life that you are living, is impermanent.  One day, you and I will be no more.  Poof!  Whether you believe in the afterlife or not, you will not have this life that you have now, and all that talent, all those chances, all those gifts, all those friendships, all that could have been had you not felt so unworthy … will be gone.

This is my challenge to you:

  • Look at your life and take note of whether or not you self-sabotage in any way.
  • Then, consider what your life would be like if you stopped sabotaging yourself, your successes, your relationships, your opportunities … if instead of giving in to that subconscious belief because of whatever happened back there, you actually opened your eyes to the gifts that lay in front of you right now, in this very-fleeting life of yours – from your talents to your passions to your loved ones to your health – and you seized all of it,  and soared.
  • Then what?  Then perhaps, instead of someday drawing your last breath looking back and realizing you had wasted so much, you will instead draw your last breath knowing that you did all you could do to be the full expression of You that was possible in this fleeting and fragile life.  

You are worthy.

The Day My Life Changed

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March 8, 2012 … the day my life changed.

Miss Butterfly…!!!

Of course, every day is sacred, every day offers lessons, and some days remain burned in our memories forever simply because they mark new eras or significant endings … graduation days, a birthday, our wedding day, the days we give birth, the day a loved one dies.  But yesterday was such a mundane day.  Who could have predicted that such a simple day would become so paramount to my understanding of Self?

The details are too personal to be shared in this blog (to read my far more personal blog with all the nitty gritty details of my psyche, send me a message and I’ll happily give you the link).  But what remains important is this:

I have always had my fair share of internal struggles, as have most human beings.  I so wanted to understand why … why I was the way I was, why I reacted the way I did, why I was triggered by seemingly trivial events, why my head lately has been as I’ve said before, a tornado.  I’ve felt this tangible understanding of my own soul inching closer and closer, but I never could quite remember that what.  Until today.

A technical snafu caused my massage therapist to miss my appointment.  And with that little event, my life untwisted in the most unexpected way, and a whole new understanding of myself was born.  Again, the details are described in my other blog, but what I can share here is what I learned in this one remarkable day:

  • Serendipity exists.
  • Everything unravels and unfolds for a reason.
  • Seemingly tiny events can set in motion cyclopean changes.
  • It is possible to understand why we are how we are and how we have come to be the way we are.
  • It is possible to remember infancy and toddlerhood.
  • When we remember and understand, our internal battles can be understood.
  • Self understanding is fabulously liberating.

Nik shared this quote with me the other day.  In retrospect, I believe he shared this quote with me to help prepare me for the massive shift that was about to occur inside of me, and which was to be found in the most bizarre and simple teacher:

“Life always gives us exactly the teacher we need at every moment. This includes every mosquito, every misfortune, every red light, every traffic jam, every obnoxious supervisor (or employee), every illness, every loss, every moment of joy or depression, every addiction, every piece of garbage, every breath. Every moment is the guru.”  — Charlotte Joko Beck

My guru was a missed massage, and the lessons are resonating deeply inside me in ways that have shaken me, shocked me, and changed me.  For good.  And for the better.

Fleeting

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My beloved father

My beloved father

He ordered breakfast.  But by the time the order was passed on to the chef, he had been swept away into another world, taken by a massive heart attack.

The waters might be calm when, out of nowhere, grief abruptly crashes into me and swallows me whole.  And there it is, momentarily, with its transitory but all-encompassing melodrama, brought on by the simplest of things- a pair of his thick wool socks tucked away in the corner of my closet, a bottle of Old Spice on a drugstore shelf, an email that has rested in my inbox for three years,  a bowl of pistachio nuts. And I miss him all over again, totally unable to wrap my heart around his absence, around the reality that I will never see him again in this lifetime.  If only I could see him, smell him, hug him one more time.

I guess that’s what death, and grief, teaches us over and over again:  To truly see those we love, hear their voice, inhale their scent, embrace them, because your spouse, your child, your pet, your friend, your acquaintance, your mother and father and sister and brother, this one moment in your life, is temporary.

All of this is fleeting, which makes it all the more precious.

On Motherhood (originally penned June, 2009)

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Kyan and Me, 2006

I always swore I’d never succumb to what the world expected a woman to be. I swore I would never try to be the All-American Superwoman. I would never be rail thin. I would never give up my name in marriage. I would never be silenced. I would never be passive. And I swore I would never swap my identity for motherhood.

My entire life, I was afraid of becoming a mother. People would ask me if I wanted children someday and always, without a moment’s hesitation, I passionately stated that as a feminist, I did not have to, and would not under any circumstance, have children. I thought that having a child meant that you had given up and given in to the oppressive idea that a woman’s place is in the kitchen, barefoot and pregnant. I thought that desiring pregnancy was something for antifeminists who “didn’t get” that a woman could now dedicate her life to career and personal fulfillment. I thought that personal fulfillment could not truly be found in motherhood- that it had to be about oneself, entirely and solely. And so, I went about my life, for twenty-some years, declaring quite proudly that I would never be a mother. I thought that having children was for the weak.

And, being the strong woman I thought I was, once I finally admitted that I did want to be a mother, I swore that I would not lose my Self to motherhood. I would still practice Yoga. I would still value being beautiful. I would still take bubble baths and read novels. I would still be the me that I had been before becoming pregnant. After all, a true feminist doesn’t lose herself to anything, surely not something as quintessentially feminine as motherhood, right?

Then I became pregnant. And miscarried. And at the moment that I turned to Nik after looking at that dim ultrasound monitor, my heart wept in a way it never had before- not with the death of beloved pets, not with the loss of romantic loves, not with 9/11, not with the feelings of rejection we feel from the world at times. This was a whole new kind of mourning. At that moment, the whole world turned dark except for this one bright light that completely monopolized my spirit- the desire to be a mother. This child had been on its way, he had been mine, and I would fight with all of my might to get this being back in my life, back in my body, to make myself a mother and Nik a father.

When Kyan was born the following year (exactly one year later, to the day), I willingly gave myself to motherhood. The moment I first saw his little blue head emerge from me, I knew more positively than anything I had ever known in my life before, surer than my own name, that I had been waiting 31 long years to be with this person. The second that I reunited with him, I felt completely at home for the first time in my life. This was my son, and I was finally a mother.

Kyan is four years old now. I don’t practice Yoga regularly anymore. I rarely take bubble baths. I haven’t read one novel since the day he was born. There have been mornings when I don’t even brush my hair or look in the mirror. There have been days when I don’t even stop to take three conscious breaths. Many times, I have had to wonder who the hell I am anymore. Have I swapped my identity for motherhood? Yes. And I can’t think of a more beautiful way to spend my life and my energy right now. Will I find myself back someday? Yes, if I choose to. And then I may practice Yoga again every day. I may start caring more about my appearance. I may read more books. I might even start a blog like this one ;) .

Now I understand that bringing a life into this world and then losing yourself in loving that little person unconditionally and wholly, is actually for the strong.