Giving myself permission to be...
I just got back from a walk around my neighborhood. We’ve had a lot of rain lately, so when I spotted sunshine from my window, I felt compelled to get some vitamin D. The sun played hide-and-seek with me the entire time. Although I know the nourishment of sunshine is still received even when the warmth of light is obstructed by clouds, I admit, I immediately felt saddened when the sun clothed itself in shadow. In the cold, it took me some time to return to presence. A metaphor.
This winter season has been full of loss for me. I lost my art studio right before the holidays. Dealing with financial hardship, I’ve lost a sense of security. In the last three weeks, I’ve lost three members of my family. Isolated in proximity from them, I’ve had to come to terms with a deep sense of loneliness and lack of belonging that has been gnawing at me for much longer than this season. With all of this, then comes the loss of unmet expectations, hopes, identities, and relationships. The grief of letting go is heavy.
I don’t often give myself the okay to fall apart without judgement. I rarely admit when I am at a vulnerably low point. I avoid patiently sitting with the darkness that arises in thought. But in honesty, I don’t have the energy to rise above and push through this time nor do I want to. In this season of shadow, I affirm it's okay to not be okay. I accept myself right here.
Not coincidentally, today is the 22nd anniversary of my brother’s passing. After all of these years of grief, I am grateful that his death has served as a catalyst toward my healing. In honor of his life, I give myself permission to be. My teenage self didn’t know this was an option and instead of properly grieving, pretended that everything was okay to return to normalcy. I forgive and extend healing to her by choosing to unconditionally love myself, as I am, today. Situations are temporary, but the relationship to yourself is cultivated over time through presence.
As I allow myself the space and time to grieve—however complex, heavy, and messy it feels—I acknowledge my growth in being compassionate toward myself in difficult circumstances. Self-love is the light of nourishment hidden behind the clouds.
You can just be.
Take care of yourself,
