Month: February 2018

Strength vs. Softness of Spirit

Published on by Christine2 Comments

My goal for a very long time was to be strong.

Strong of body, mind and spirit. The power of all 3 working together.

Go to the gym, lift heavy. Repeat.

Have moments of grief privately, but try my best never to let others see that.

My focus has shifted as I have listened to my instincts and changed the direction of my path.

Shifting away from strength and falling authentically into delicacy, softness, tenderness.

As I invested time into identifying my values, and the hierarchy of those values, I came to the understanding that although there is strength, there is also a softness of my spirit that I’ve protected for a very long time.

If I truly want an authentic life full of joy, connection, and harmony…how can I always be strong, and deny the softness that is the very core of my soul?

You see, I understand now that boundaries are a sign of self-love and respect.

I know who my circle of influence and support is and the more I know WHO I am, the more expansive and true that circle grows.

No more ambiguity.

No more two faces.

No more hiding who I am so that I can make someone else “comfortable”.

I’ve let go of so much….with much respect for what they’ve taught me. I do not live in the shadow of regret, but embrace the wisdom of each step I’ve taken. I own that. There is no blame. I take responsibility for my choices.

Within that loss, I found myself. I found so much more within my truth.

And the truth is, I’m able to connect with others through honesty and transparency. Which is a tenderness of spirit.

I also found out who I am alone, and spent time growing my happiness my way.

The world if so full of disconnect already.  It’s easier in many ways to be a rock, protecting yourself, than it is to be a rose.

Whenever I feel that grief of loss, or pain of what once was, I also know that’s the past talking. I do not live there anymore. No one does. All we have for certain is this present moment. How much of the present is wasted within focussing on the past, or worrying about the future?

My question now is this: What quality of life will I create within this moment?

Because it’s about the quality.

Top-shelf living.

I want my home to peaceful, harmonious, full of love.  Full of safety to be yourself. Authentic living.

The only way to have a home like that is to be those values.

Loving

Peaceful

Harmonious

Accepting

That doesn’t mean I run away from the pain, but rather I deal with it.

No running from it.

No numbing it.

With forgiveness.

Authenticity of my spirit.

With patience.

Bring it back to love. The truth of my heart.

Which is soft, gentle and kind.

I wish the same for you, that you embrace the truth of your spirit. Whatever values you hold true. And just be exactly who you are inside. If you’re not another’s cup of tea, no worries. You are still awesome tea.

From my soft heart to yours,

Christine

 

 

 

 

 

Anxiety knocked me off my feet today. On getting back up…

Published on by Christine2 Comments

Anxiety stemming from fear is a funny thing.  It creeps up on you in the most unexpected times.  I had a moment today that almost knocked me off my feet.  I never struggled with anxiety until I was assaulted as a very naive teenager (which I rarely talk about, I’ve worked through that for the most part).  After that experience, the fear started building like layers of frost on a window. Contracting like a snake around my vocal cords.

I go inward.

Calm myself with affirming words.

Bring it back to love.

I can do it fairly quickly now. And most around me are not aware it’s happening.  And it’s so rare now, that when it DOES happen, it’s like a betrayal to my soul. Like when you get your car fixed and it’s running perfectly and you start trusting in the mechanics and then it stalls on the road.

Today it happened during my workout, so I went upstairs to the running track and found a stairwell full of cement stairs waiting to be climbed.

You see for me, exercise is like an antidote for the fear. It elevates my heart rate and labours my breathing just as the anxiety does. Until it matches it and then takes over in a physical way.  Biology of strength over the mind. So I ran those stairs, urging my legs down to the bottom, and then pushing my way back up. With each step up, I’m climbing out of the hole of fear. Taking control over what I initially feel little control over. I reassess at the top, and then do it again until I am calmed. Until the pain of lactic acid in my legs is greater than the tightness in my chest.

Fear is replaced by empowerment. I can do this. I can climb out of this. My heart is rooted in love. There is no room for fear.

Bring it back to love.

It took about 10 minutes to get my mind right again, and I went back downstairs and had a great workout, I love lifting. It’s my jam. It centres me. Makes me feel alive and full of feeling. I could feel my spirit returning to my heart.

To the person I am inside.

Kind, compassionate, empathetic, loving, patient, giving, honest, accepting. And sometimes the person that’s hardest to accept is myself. Because I didn’t know my worth for a very long time. And my decisions were rooted in fear. I wore a mask. I learned what people “wanted” me to be. What made them comfortable. I was disloyal to my spirit.

But not today, not anymore. I do not accept that for my life.

Never dim your light to placate another’s insecurities.

I have this one precious life in which I am the designer of my environment and the people within my inner circle. I will always fiercely protect my inner harmony, but not at the cost of being guarded and closed off.

I committed to wholehearted living. I’ve written that one word “Wholehearted” more times than I can count. Because to live wholeheartedly, takes courage. It takes honesty. It’s vulnerable and transparent. It’s the whole of my heart. My kids deserve to have a Mom that lives with the entirety of her heart.

And I will do that, one step at a time. I will climb back up to the top. Always.

From my wholehearted spirit to yours,

Christine