There's No Way Around the Yuck...

...only through it.

Hello friends and readers,

I’ve been out of my old house for over two months now, officially separated a few months more than that. And while I felt immense relief in the first 6 weeks, I’ve been coming to a place where the reality of my situation is bringing up a lot of emotions I didn’t really expect—like loneliness, anxiety, and maybe even fear. It’s also forcing me to examine the core wounded beliefs I hold and the stories I tell myself because of them, especially as I have been curious about/exploring dating. There’s a reason I married a man that I loved platonically, but was not “in love” with, and I don’t really like having my old patterns brought to the surface again.

It’s also sort of strange to navigate this phase as I work in a position that requires me to come as fully myself. It’s not like when I was, for example, a cashier, and I could sort of separate my personal life from my working life for the most part; my wellbeing is directly tied to how I show up for others in a meaningful way, and that is basically what my job is all about¹. There is no part of me that has this life stuff figured out, and as I bumble along the path I’m forging, I’m feeling the tension of working through this personal yuck that’s coming up with also trying to do my job well.

The wounds that keep coming up, quite persistently and profoundly, are around believing that I’m not good enough, I’m not doing enough, I am not delightful or enjoyable to be around, and that other people will eventually lose interest in me. I know that these are fairly common human experiences. I also know that some of us had these beliefs programmed more deeply into our systems because our parents weren’t able to offer us better ones about ourselves; often, they were the ones that did the programming. I know my parents did the best they could with the tools they had, and yet they often weren’t able to meet my needs—these two things can simultaneously be true—and I’m doing my best to understand that it was never actually about me.

But I’ve lived with these beliefs under my skin for so long that doing something different is as much exciting as it is wildly uncomfortable. Each time I try something new, I feel like I need to contend with another story that arises from those beliefs: “I’m not good enough for that person/my job,” or “They don’t really like me, they just feel bad for me,” or “I’m not doing enough and everyone is disappointed in me,” or “They didn’t message me back because they’re losing interest,” and on and on and on.

I’m finding that the more important something is to me, the louder these stories become. It’s like an alarm bell telling me I shouldn’t be vulnerable, shouldn’t reach out for that thing that feels important, shouldn’t seek connection. These stories I tell myself are actually doing their best to keep me safe, but they also keep me from pursuing what’s meaningful to me. I think part of the healing journey is getting curious about why I hold that story in the first place, unearthing the core wounded belief it stems from, and acknowledging that there was a time in my life when it truly did serve me.

Challenging old patterns and beliefs and stories is like working a new muscle—it is painful and exhausting initially, but as you keeping working and slowly increasing the resistance, it’ll become stronger and contribute in a positive way to your body as a whole. Even though I’ve learned to trust this process, I still find myself resistant to the discomfort that initially precedes the strengthening. To be honest, what probably happened is that I thought I had done all this work already, and I would be good to go. I was not prepared to have all this internal yuck just sort of ooze up from the depths of my being to the surface. It’s been SUPER fun.

But I’ve also discovered that incredible, and sometimes unexpected, things happen when I lean into the discomfort: I cry and connect with others who have experienced something similar to me; I reach out for the friendships that nourish and sustain me, and find such willingness to journey with me through it; I discover that I can handle the very things I’m most afraid of; I learn that when I’m honest about these stories I’m telling myself, I find so much more support than I believe I deserve.

I often wonder to myself how I got to be so lucky to have the most amazing community around me. I guess part of it is me and how I show up. But, I also think I’m just very lucky.

Be Kind to yourself. Enjoy the glorious sunshine. Do the things that light you up.

I felt grateful to take a walk around my neighbourhood this morning in the absolutely glorious sunshine, reflect with my bestie on the feeling of resistance and how meaningful it is to do what lights me up, spend my afternoon with the best boss, pour my heart into these words you’re currently reading, and find myself on solid ground.

What painful stories do you find you tell yourself when you’re in the midst of change, transition, stress, or turmoil?

Are these stories true? How can you be sure that they are true?

What evidence can you find that tells a different story?

1. My role is that of First Third Minister within the United Church of Canada. I build community and connection with folks in the “first third” of their lives. I’m an early childhood educator and postpartum doula in training and believe that these ways of knowing provide a unique lens in the way I’m able to journey alongside folks—spiritually, physically, and emotionally.