To be honest, I’m not okay. Caretaking little kids, working full time, and showing up for my loved ones has suddenly become a grueling and unrelenting struggle. Some days it’s a miracle that I have gotten out of bed. My self-care practices are just within reach — yoga, meditation, breathwork, music, exercise — and yet an invisible force is keeping me from them.
I’ve been trying to articulate what this invisible force is. Compassion fatigue? Secondary trauma? Depression? Disempowerment? Disbelief? Grief? Guilt? Likely all of the above and more.
My therapist said, “It’s like you’re a dancer who has suddenly had weights put around your neck, wrists, and ankles, and are expected to dance the way you once did.”
I am lucky to work with folks at The Winters Group who are invested in my well-being. I sometimes struggle with asking for help. But I know that our liberation is bound together, and when I am in pain, it is up to me to speak my truth and ask for what I need. This is a weekly, daily, and moment-to-moment practice. It requires that I tune into my own heart, body, and mind. It means that even though I could choose to give 100 percent of my energy, sometimes 60 percent is enough. And sometimes taking time off is a required next step if I’m going to regain my strength to continue doing this work.
Despite my current wounding, I know I’ll be okay. I am right where I need to be; in my grief, in my pain. Some days are better than others. Yesterday I ate an entire bag of Flamin’ Hot Doritos while staring blankly at a wall. Today I took a shower, so I consider that a win.
(As an aside — if you haven’t tried Flamin’ Hot Doritos, have you even lived?)
I recently shared this poem in our TWG community healing session:
Her nervous system had been through so much.
She decided to spend the rest of her life calming the inflammation.
Thoughts, feelings, memories, behavior, relations.
She soothed it all with deep, loving breaths and gentle practices.
The softer she became with herself, the softer she became with the world,
which became softer with her.
She birthed a new generational cycle: Peace.
—Dr. Jaiya John, Fragrance After Rain
Stay soft, friends. You’re not alone.
