Stepping out to greet yourself. Do you ever get one of those days when you are to scared to step outside because somehow your lizard brain has dug her feet in and refuses to budge? She is yelling in your ear that its not safe to go outside and play with the big girls.
That something bad is going to happen?
After I decided to come out from under the deep tundra of frozen feeling, and surface in the land of the living, I was bombarded by cowardly custard moments. Many of which had me flying to hide virtually under the covers, while carry on pretending that all was well.
I would seek support. Finding solace in those who had gone before me and thrived, to tell the tale.
The life journey unfolding, a pilgrimage of sorts. We walk until we find a hut to rest in, linger awhile, relaxing into comfort. Perhaps meeting kindred spirits to share stories.
Too soon, it is time to begin traveling once more. The path sometimes easy, many times fraught with fear. Carrying our little stories neatly packed, on our back, dropping bits as we lighten the load.
Unpacking those stories and repacking them in the little suitcase called life. Sometimes we call it baggage and sometime we call it an umbrella. Part of those legends is in the familiarity, the safety of what is known. Those stories shape us, and yet we shape them too. You get to decide what your story is, and what do you want your story to be. I have been exposed, my Polite Woman flapping in the wind, and I know that my journey is not over.
I have my stories. I can fill up an anthology. Underneath layers of stories I have told myself, constantly unraveling. Yet, I see the pieces I still cling to. The ones that tie me to my lizard woman smallness. Letting go can be a challenge and a chore. The rewards are huge, but the fear is safe, known.
What tales are sticking to you? What is it time to let go off? How can you drop baggage right now?
Sometimes a good clue is to look at how other people’s behavior ticks us off. They mirror us. A reflection of what needs work. When we can release the trigger, and offer an opinion that doesn’t need validating.
Give voice to what we observe, and not care where it lands or if it changes anything. Your word is your law, no one else’s. Can you live with that story?