I lost myself in a haze of dis-ease.
Slowly, without me even noticing, I began to disappear.
And along with me, I lost my sense of passion, my creativity, my ambition, my intelligence, my curiosity.
I also lost my grip - any small inconvenience or upset throwing me into a rage or total shut down.
Nothing was wrong, except everything was wrong.
It wasn’t until my body got pulled into the undertow that I realized I had vanished.
And at that point, all I could do was hold on to the jagged rocks and pray that the waves of crisis would calm for long enough to pull myself out of the unforgiving ocean.
They say when you are drowning, the worst thing you can do is struggle.
So my tactic with Lyme was to surrender and get curious.
I let it be what it was and I asked:
How did I create the right environment for this to happen?
What needs to be overhauled to create change?
What do I need? What do I want?
What am I being led to learn from this?
The answers were quite simple, actually.
And so were the solutions (in theory).
I had to commit - like truly, deeply, forever commit - to being devoted to myself.
To choosing myself first.
To no longer matching energy.
To allowing myself to receive what I need AND what I desire.
To nourishing my body as well my soul.
To holding myself accountable to my boundaries, and for the way I show up.
To staying connected to myself in the moments I tend to self-abandon.
To holding myself in the highest esteem - a place that is rightful for me to inhabit.
No more playing small.
But allowing Bigness to feel good.
To be slow.
To be soft.
To be gentle.
To reflect all the things I love, and to not judge those things against the measure of a profoundly sick society.
Healing, for me, looks and feels a lot like being fully drenched in pleasure in as many moments as I can.
It’s not always comfortable, and it’s certainly not linear. But I get it, and I’m grateful for the experience and another opportunity to get it right.