I have taught 13 workshops in the last 11 days.
I am feeling the intensity inside and outside and all around. It is good, it is thick, it is heavy, it is big. I have taught in my workshop space, at a large corporation, and at a shelter for homeless women.
Experience is experience, grief is grief, trauma is trauma, whether you’re in a suit or sweatpants, at an office or a nonprofit.
Being vulnerable doesn’t feel less vulnerable just because you have the opportunity to be vulnerable a lot. It is the unzipping of the skin and the baring of the heart every single time. Listening to the stories of others pushes wider the quarters of the heart. Loving yourself is not just a feeling, it is action. To care for myself, I have gone to yoga, therapy, meetings. I have gotten two massages, meditated, taken naps, and eaten chocolate ice cream in bed.
I have also had to bring up a sticky boundary issue with a friend and say no to a request that asked far too much of me. Saying no, speaking up, setting boundaries, taking such meticulous care of myself does not come naturally but my life depends on it. I would be eaten alive if I didn’t continually fill myself back up. A wise friend tells me I can’t give of my sustenance, I can only give of my abundance.
I’m excited about how much more there is to do, how much is opening up in front of me, how much more I want to learn and absorb and to give. But today? I’m taking the whole damn day off. And I’m going to try to do nothing at all.