I am someone who is generally very aware of what’s going on within my own heart, body, and mind — in fact, the intention of maintaining this awareness is a key part of my spiritual practice.
That doesn’t mean I’m always able to “fix” things straight away, but I do notice and acknowledge.
And these past few months, one thing I’ve noticed is that I haven’t been truly feeling the emotions and sensations I expected to feel in the wake of birthing my first book and my first retreat.
My logical mind has been able to process that these were two huge accomplishments, but my heart and body weren’t quite able to feel it.
I felt something, sure — but it was only a faint perception of self-love, joy, pride, and celebration, like a ghost or an echo.
And I know why — these feelings and sensations were literally too big for my heart and body to hold.
The emails, DMs, comments, and reviews from readers describing how my words have touched them, shifted something for them, even changed their lives, are so precious to me that my body doesn’t know how to respond — so sometimes, it just shuts down.
This morning, I was able to move through some of these colossal feelings in a way I hadn’t yet done.
And in doing so, I realized that at the root of my inability to really feel and experience the full depth of these emotions are core wounds relating to imposter syndrome, enoughness, and scarcity.
Fears that I’m not really worthy of the praise my words are receiving.
Fears that I’m not really enough — not healed enough, not creative enough, not smart enough — to teach and lead and inspire.
Fears that if I take the time to stop and celebrate rather than focusing my attention on the next big thing, I’ll lose momentum and miss out on future opportunities.
And what’s interesting is that holding these fears and limiting beliefs in my body feels safer than holding those big feelings of celebration, because they’re more familiar to me.
It’s harder to hold the belief that I am enough — to really hold it, to embody it with every cell in my body — than it is to hold the belief that I’m not enough.
Even after all the years and years of healing work I’ve done, my body still resists it.
And that’s okay — my body is just an animal trying to feel safe, and I won’t shame her for that.
Instead, I’ll love her through it.
This morning I stood at my altar, swaying as tears streamed down my face, with a loving hand placed over my heart. I let the tears come and then gently wiped them away. I kissed each of my fingertips and ran them down my throat, across my belly, sending love and acceptance with every stroke.
The emotions came in alternating waves: moments of clarity that sent pure joy and gratitude surging through my veins, followed by whispers of “but what if I’m not enough” and “I’m not really safe.”
I rode the waves without shaming or judging or forcing or wishing.
And during this practice, my body softened enough to allow those big feelings of accomplishment and celebration to move through me in a way they hadn’t before.
I was able to sense how much bigger those feelings were than my physical body; they stretched out even further than I could perceive.
Of course my body feels overwhelmed by them — so much has changed in my life since I began sharing my words and my craft online.
As beautiful and exciting as these changes have been, my body is still just an animal trying to keep up, trying to make sense of it all.
So I’m going to be patient with her. I’m going to continue riding the waves, feeling everything that comes up, helping her feel safe to open up and experience all the joy and love that she deserves to experience.
My words aren’t perfect, my offerings aren’t perfect, I’m not perfect.
And, I am not an imposter.
I’m imperfect, and I’m valuable, real, worthy, enough.
How so you are!! Thank you!! Please keep going; Courage, Love, Partage