the act of writing as self-validation

“if I meet myself, if I am holding my own pain, naturally it’s easier for me to hold yours as well. I’m not waiting to be saved by someone else’s validation. I’m validating myself. Writing has been that journey for me, and though this process, I’ve made some of the most intense connections of my life.”

Who is Wellness for? – Fariha Róisín

I’m holding 2 ideas inspired by this excerpt:

  1. learning how validate myself and hold my own pain
  2. the ways self-compassion ripples outwards/extends towards others

i heard ashe phoenix on Dear Jessamyn talking recently about her experience being poly and navigating the hard emotions of multiple partners (and i’m paraphrasing here) — “when i start with ‘it’s not my fault,’ i can begin from a place of much deeper compassion for the other person.”

(once again, that wasn’t the exact wording, but that was my sense of her message.)

the way that landed for me is: if i can refrain from seeing another’s hurt as a reflection of me and my worth, keep myself from entering that defensive position, i’m much more open to simply receive their pain. [this makes me think of the harm of white fragility]

there are certain spiritual/psychological truths that my human brain struggles to wrap my mind around, such as the idea that if i did something that made someone feel some type of way, their hurt is not about me. see, where this gets tricky for me is that we are accountable for our behavior and in turn any harm caused by it.

so now we enter that space of holding two seemingly contradictory things as true. to quote don Miguel Ruiz from The Four Agreements, “Whatever happens around you, don’t take it personally. Nothing other people do is because of you. It is because of themselves.”

i’m especially thinking about this in relation to a partner who shared with me that they’re struggling with a lack of affection from me…

so i have two options:
– fall into defensiveness, make a strong argument for all the ways i have been affectionate
OR
– start with not taking it personally and simply be present for the pain they’re feeling. not feeling enough love and care from a partner can be extremely painful, i know.

once i get past the “nuh-uh!” phase of the conflict, i’m able to get into the juice of the matter. and in-turn, i get to validate the pain i’m experiencing caused by feeling like i hurt someone i love, like i’m failing, like i’ll never be good enough (without blaming them).

“You take it personally because you agree with whatever was said. As soon as you agree, the poison goes through you, and you are trapped in the dream of hell. What causes you to be trapped is what we call personal importance. Personal importance, or taking things personally, is the maximum expression of selfishness because we make the assumption that everything is about ‘me.’”

don Miguel Ruiz, The Four Agreements

ultimately, taking things personally, like someone feeling hurt by my behavior, makes their pain about me. it’s an act of humility and compassion to be able to start from, “it’s not about me.”

it’s makes me think of the difference between someone calling you something you know you aren’t, and someone calling you something you have insecurity or shame around.

for example: someone calls you a slut and you’re like “ha, that’s not even true.” but then someone calls you stupid, and because your intelligence is not favored by capitalism/society, you question it.

the only reason one lands painfully when the other doesn’t is because one’s a personal wound and the other’s not. so even in a situation where you feel hurt by something someone said to you, it’s not about them. because only the things we’re willing to believe about ourselves can penetrate.

[also, because i’m perpetually fearful of seeming like i’m victim blaming… this point makes me think of the adage, “the wounds aren’t your fault, but your healing is your responsibility.” and as much as that can seem like it sucks, it’s ultimately empowering. it puts the power back in our hands, away from those who have hurt us.]

anyways, i’m feeling kinda preachy now and that’s not at all my point. i’m ultimately grateful for the division because my internal work and another’s. i’m grateful to be given permission to start with, “it’s not my fault.”

especially since i’ve spent a lot of my life feeling very responsible for how others feel and adapting to accommodate them. i’m continuing to learn the difference between taking responsibility for my actions vs feeling responsible for how my behavior makes someone feel.

if something i’m doing makes someone feel threatened, it’s then on me to do the internal work of figuring out if my behavior is problematic, or if that’s something they’re projecting onto me.

cause to quote a famous AA saying, “feelings aren’t facts.” they’re valid, yes, but they’re not necessarily telling the full story. we can’t constantly shift our form to keep people comfortable (which is different than safe), because we’ll eventually become a nebulous being with no grounded sense of self and worth.

we need to be uncomfortable to grow. as far as lessons i’m continuing to learn on this healing journey, one of the biggies is the necessity to show up for discomfort. and the odd irony is that when we stop resisting, avoiding, running away from, the feeling/experience becomes much more manageable, less terrifying. [this makes me think of how i feel in a dream when i finally stop running away from the monster chasing me and just face it – relief]

which isn’t to say it’s not hard. some things, when we sit with them after avoiding them for years [trauma], feel like they could rip us apart. which is why having support, feeling resourced, and practicing things like titration are so important.

this healing is a lifelong journey; there’s no need to rush the process.

plus, i recently got a new therapist who specializes in trauma, so i’ll also try and pass some helpful nuggets along.

clarification moment: the ideas presented are meant to be applied on an interpersonal level, not in relation to systemic issues of violence and oppression. not taking white supremacy personally does not liberate a person of color from its impact.

also, i feel like there’s an argument to be made that self-help is generally made by resourced people for resourced people [essentially, folks not struggling on the day-to-day to survive]. this is where spiritual truths can get tricky — without rigorous discernment and paired with a sense of collective responsibility, they won’t necessarily free [all of] us.

individual and collective healing needs to be an interconnected process. if your healing hurts another, that’s not it. the healing is in finding out why/how something that makes you feel good causes another harm. [talking to myself here — thinking about my yoga practice, cannabis, white feminism]

anyways, just needed to throw that in there for balanced perspective type vibes (i mean it is Libra Season).

good luck out there ❤ ❤ ❤ much love, y’all

acceptance as action & attention as worship

note: these musings are inspired by readings from Jessica Dore’s tarot book, Tarot for Change.

tarot pull this morning: the prince of liminality* and the king of swords

the prince of liminality is known for being a space of patience and inaction. the prince is literally hanging upside down and totally chilling, seemingly at peace. it’s a place of calm not because everything is good and has worked out but because we have created the capacity to merely exist with it. we have let go of resistance and control. it’s a place of acceptance.

Jessica Dore does a lovely job relating to acceptance as an action, one that can prompt interest, curiosity, and observation. she offers examples of this:

  • looking at a difficult emotion with curiosity (to hopefully diffuse the sense of it being “dangerous”)
  • extending validation to ourselves when our inner voice is tearing us down
  • finding a sense of expansion to make space for a fiery emotion like anger/rage
  • learning to sit with discomfort, making note of its dimensions, taste, and texture

becoming curious about emotions we’ve typically ran away from can turn us into the observer, as well as the feeler, of the experience. we can become like a scientist, noting the ways in which sadness, loneliness, boredom, and anger unfold within our being and the specific forms they take.

i remember earlier in the summer, making a point to sit with boredom. to let myself simply be with it without changing it. and lord, it was one of the hardest things i’ve willingly done recently. there was so much shame associated with it. being bored make me feel like a loser, like i was doing something wrong, like i was bad at life, a failure.

without curiosity, i wouldn’t have been able to sustain this for as long as i did. and even then, sitting with it and feeling all the shame and fear associated with boredom, i could understand why i ran away from it. it was scary to experience, it carried so much weight. it was hard and uncomfortable.

my point is that learning to sit with the things we’ve been avoiding is both incredibly difficult and possible. especially from the somatic perspective of titration** — taking things slow and steady, like step by step exposure therapy. if your anger terrifies you, set a 5 minute timer to sit with it. and then walk away. because too much exposure too soon and quickly can compound our fear and avoidance as it overwhelms our system.

the king of swords is like the pinnacle of where learning how to hone and direct our focus can take us.

Jessica makes a connection between attention and worship, which i find captivating. this reminded me of an adrienne maree brown quote: “what you pay attention to grows”

the ability to maintain focus on something in the “age of distraction” is no small feat. i think of the commitment needed to stay true to one’s unique personal path — the ability to come back to that place of inspiration and connection with the divine again and again and again.

the most obvious practice for learning how to return to a point of focus is meditation. but to be honest, i find meditation oddly triggering for reasons i don’t need to go into here. and so if meditation is not the practice you feel aligned with right now, let me offer some other options: reading/studying, writing, deep listening, praying – pretty much any moment in which you want to bring your whole mental presence to it.

which doesn’t mean always being in a state of flow. it’s also choosing to come back to something time and time again, no matter how many times distractions get in the way. it’s choosing to not get discouraged by having to begin again and again and again.

so if our attention is like worship, what do we wish to worship? TV, social media, each other, our dog, books, work, stress…? and i don’t say this to shame or judge, because i honestly believe we each get to choose. i am working hard to live in a place of, “it’s not for me to say what is right for you, only what is right for me.” (which is different than asking someone to account for harm done)

on a final note, Jessica offers us a moment of compassion, noting, “I’d suggest we go where our natural abilities lie in order to build strength and competence in things that come more easily to us before we toil in the realms that are more challenging.” this, to me, is telling me: gurl, you don’t need to start meditating and fasting [two very challenging practices for me] today or tomorrow. we’ll get there.

prayer: may i remember that acceptance is a practice, one empowered by a genuine sense of curiosity. may i use my attention with intention and awareness, growing the things i love and care about with devotion and discipline.

<3<3<3 good luck out there

*this card is typically referred to as “the hanged man” but considering the triggering nature of that name, especially for Black Americans, i use this title instead. this insight and new name for the card provided by Sarah Cargill of Tarot for the End of Times.

** Titration exposes a person to small amounts of trauma-related distress at a time in order to build up tolerance and avoid becoming overwhelmed by traumatic memories. In therapy, people pay close attention to the sensations they experience when revisiting a traumatic event and gradually become less affected by them.