My 2nd full day in Brooklyn, NY and I’ve found myself feeling more vulnerable than I can recall ever having experienced in my adult life. Confronted with the unfamiliar around every corner and longing for a sense of comfort and ease as I take on that I will be living here 2 months from now, I found myself overcome with overwhelm, with a sense of being deeply alone, lost and uncertain. I found myself wanting to take back every promise, every commitment to be here and crawl back to the pillowly softness of the life that I know. As someone who LOVES to be in the KNOW and has to challenge herself to take on things that she’s not guaranteed to be good at one way or another…I’m about a thousand miles outside of my comfort zone, both literally and figuratively.
And as I sat there this afternoon writing in an unfamiliar cafe, trying to get my finger on the pulse of the whirlwind of emotions pouring through my veins, I realized that this must be a glimpse at what it felt like to be born. Thrust from the warmth of the womb I’ve known for the entirety of my existence into a harsh new world–to see light for the first time, and hear clear sounds and be smacked on the back as I wailed at the top of my lungs. And isn’t crying to be expected? Is it not part of the initiation of life itself? What else is there to do when experiencing the intensity of it all than to just let it all out?
And so that’s what I did. I sat, writing in that cafe and tears began to spill forth from my eyes. And at first, I was embarrassed and I worried about people noticing as I quickly raised my hands to clear them away, and then, it became clear that there was no stopping these tears. They needed release. I needed release. In the midst of the unfamiliar, of my own re-birth, I was baptized by my tears and I came back home to myself. As I purged my thoughts on the page, I felt held by the honesty of my words. I was seen and heard and I was safe.
And from there, I was able to open up in awe of my courage, and I felt a celebration welling up from my belly. This is freaking terrifying, and yet I’m choosing it because I know in my soul that life’s greatest rewards are born out of the choice to walk through the fire, to be confronted, and to surrender to the mystery of it all.
There will be more days like this ahead for me–where nothing feels right, where I have no idea how it’s all going to turn out and I just want to “go home.” AND I just made it through the first one. There is so much to honor and celebrate about that.
This is what loving me looked like today.