Finding ground (and breaking through the Jello)

These last few weeks have been rough for me. I know I’m not alone in feeling this way, but that’s the paradox of struggle. It’s self-isolating, even when you’re surrounded by others who are experiencing very similar emotions.

When you’re in the thick of the shit, it’s like your world has been plunged into a dense tank of Jello. You’re stuck in one place, unable to move through the dense, goopy mess. You can see that there are other people stuck in there with you, too, but they’re all out of reach, suspended in some other part of the blob. Sometimes the mold cracks, and you get a glimpse at life outside the Jello. It looks spacious, fluid, clear. Uncolored by Red # 7 or Blue # 9. There’s light out there that’s not bent and refracted by shame, or fear, or self-doubt, or grief. It seems impossible that you’ll ever be able to push through the sludge to find that light for yourself. Until you remember that you’ve done it before. And that you don’t have to do it alone.

—

Last Monday night, I was laying in bed in a hotel room in DC, unable to sit with my thoughts and feelings for longer than three minutes at a time. I was exhausted from more than a week of travel, socializing, and being perpetually “on” as a wife, a mother, a colleague, and a friend. I was physically by myself in this 200 square foot box, but there were 10,000 voices in my head. And it was all just feeling like too much.

So I reached out for help.

I emailed Kimberly, my coach, and told her what I was experiencing, which was both a sense of incredible overwhelm and stark nothingness all at once. I was feeling detached and disembodied, yet inescapably caught-up in my thoughts. I guess that makes sense, though. When you’re disconnected from your body you often take up refuge in your mind, and god knows that’s not always the most hospitable place, either.

One of the things I love about Kimberly is that she never tries to fix me. She’s seen me through a lot of transformation this past year, and she knows my old patterns, my strengths, and my pitfalls. She calls me out when I’m being too hard on myself, and calls me in when I need to be reminded of my own inherent goodness.

So of course, she responded to me with exactly what I needed to hear.

“The way I would approach this is for you to acknowledge yourself for being human, and also to recognize your old self emerging with compassion, but let her know that your now-wiser-self has got this, and she doesn’t need to run the show right now. We are always at choice, no matter how hard, as to who we want to be.

Your wiser self knows she is enough.

Your wiser self knows she is strong and brave.

Your wiser self knows she is beautiful and smart.

Your wiser self knows she is resourceful.

Your wiser self knows she is loved as she is.

Your wiser self knows she can handle pretty much anything if she is grounded.”

If she is grounded.

You can’t be grounded when you’re suspended in Jello. They’re literally opposites. But like the super-cliche goes, sometimes the best way out is through.

I had forgotten I was strong, wise, and good.

I had forgotten I was resilient.

I had forgotten how to love myself.

I had forgotten all of the tools that I carry with me, every day, that unfailingly help me find solid ground again.

Meditation. Reading. Writing. Movement. Tea.

OK, maybe I hadn’t forgotten those things, but it felt too hard to reach them through the Jello.

Kimberly cracked open the mold for me, allowing a little bit of light to shine in. But I had to be the one to choose to move toward it.

—

I’m meditating again. Two days in a row, now. Gotta celebrate the little wins.

I shaved my legs, I trimmed my nails, I used body lotion, I conditioned my hair. I even bought pants. In a size that fits. Those may seem like small self-care tasks, but they’re typically the hardest for me to access when I’m stuck. The light reminds me that those things make me feel more whole, more open.

I’m not all the way through the Jello yet. I am still avoiding looking at myself in full-length mirrors, and I don’t want to be touched by anyone. My temper is a little quick with my kids. But each time I choose to find ground, I’m getting a little bit closer finding my way out.

There’s something else Kimberly said that’s worth sharing, because I kind of think it’s the key to all of this:

“We grow in a spiral - not in a linear fashion. Even if it feels like you are going backwards, you are still moving upwards.”

Every time we remember how to break through the Jello, we’re making progress. Even though we’re going to end up there again at some point, it’s still farther ahead than we were before. We know more, we’ve experienced more, and we’re able to remember (and appreciate) more of who we are when we’re not in the think of it.

I got a little taste of being grounded again these past couple days, and it’s so much effing better than anything that comes in a box.

I think I will go back for more.