Up to this point in my life, I believed that pain was meant to be dealt with in solitude. Of course, I had my moments of opening up and overwhelming whoever I trusted, but I believed whatever I went through I was meant to go through it alone. I believed to be open about what I was going through would be a sign of weakness and that people wouldn’t understand me. I believed by being vulnerable I was putting myself in a position where I wouldn’t be able to protect myself.
I still struggle with being imperfect, and I really hate not having my shit together. I hate being embarrassed. I hate being “emotional.” Even with my best attempts to not make mistakes or look weak, I am constantly reminded that I am human. Whatever armor I build in solitude only lasts momentarily, then I am forced to interact, to engage; when really I want to be left alone.
This past Wednesday I attended a free healing workshop for organizers and artists. As crazy as it sounds, I went there with the intention of healing other people. As much healing I need. I still expected to shrink myself to make room for other folks’ healing. I didn’t expect to gain anything from it, so when they asked me or to take a nap upon my arrival I was dumbfounded.
The itinerary included napping then yoga then dinner + chill and finally sound healing. The sound healing resonated with me (pun intended). I left feeling lighter, more patient, and excited to face life head-on. Unfortunately that high faded as they usually do, and that same night I fell back into old habits: I got drunk. I wasted money, and I ate shitty food. That’s the hard part of mindfulness; it takes maintenance in addition to trying to maintain.