When I was a child, I loved being watched by my parents. Playing, baking, doing my homework, coming back home, eating at the table with them.
Their gaze made me feel precious and interesting and special.
I never lived alone. When I left my parent’s home, it was to settle with my boyfriend and finish my studies in the big city. The studies kept me busy for two years, but when they ended, and before I got a job, I realized something terrible.
I didn’t know what to do of myself in the flat when I was alone. Nobody was watching and I felt shapeless, like gas without a container to tell it what it was.
My partner was at work during the day. A growing feeling of misery seeped into me through every pore.
Fortunately, the waiting was quite short and I got a job.
But during the evenings, I no longer had the homework to keep me busy. My partner had his movie blog (a successful one, that kept *him* quite busy) and I felt alone and above all, *unseen*. Un-precious, un-interesting.
This led to a lot of tension within my couple but I didn’t fully understand it before much later…
Fast forward to 2015, I’m now officially an entrepreneur (don’t let this fancy word fool you. « Pilgrim » would be a far more accurate word, rain, wolves and highwaymen included) and I work from home.
And. Home. Is. Empty.
There’s no one but me there.
The Universe’s plot to have me give myself a shape has finally succeeded.
Oh, but, not until 2019, nooooooo.
In 2019, I mostly suffer from self-imposed pressure. I always rush, although there is no one to set the deadlines but me. I hardly breathe (and this is not a metaphor, my diaphragm is so tense I have real difficulty to breathe) and joy is mainly absent from the scene.
Performance is the only thing that gives me a shape.
Until… until I realize that something has taken over inside of me and is pushing me to ACCEPT.
Accept the so-called loneliness.
Accept the level of activity is not sufficiently intense to substitute for real self-worth.
Accept the overwhelming freedom of defining myself.
In a nutshell, accept the responsibility of my self, my feelings, my preciousness, my « interesting-ness » and my « special-ness ».
Suddenly, it was clear that no one could fill this vaccuum but me. No one would, anyway (AND THAT’S A GOOD THING, BELIEVE ME).
The constant aim of performance was killing me, making me so tense I could not enjoy the little simple things of Life that make life… Life.
If you ask me « How ? How did you make the shift ? »
There will be little for me to say.
It’s a process that happened THROUGH me, but I controlled it around 0%.
Yes, I prayed to get better. Yes I WANTED to get out of this state. But strategies, guidelines, practices ?
I had zero idea of how to do it, but the Universe, apparently, did.
That’s called surrender.
And I’m not even good at it ! Honestly, I was as tense as the cables of the bridge of Tancarville ! (don’t worry if you don’t know it, that’s just a large bridge in France. The Golden Gate might be more familiar to you).
So, the big lesson here is : Grace finds its way. It can find its way through a locked safe, if you invite it.
There is no need for you to know what you need, just ask, just pray. And watch out for the signs. Even the ugly, painful, sticky brownish signs. I only let go because there was no other option, you know !!!!
Sometimes, apparent complete absence of good-looking options means you are ready for the heavy work.
Don’t be afraid of the hard things (especially when it looks like there is no other way). As writer Terry Pratchett says « Million-to-one chances…crop up nine times out of ten ».
ps : have you noticed how the word « strive » resembles « strife » ?