The other side of things

NOTE: I originally wrote this in my journal while on retreat at the Omega Institute. But since my handwriting was less than readable, I’m retyping it, mostly unedited, here.

I’m writing this from a comfy adirondack chair, under the shade of a tree, in a small open field, outside our classroom at Omega in Rhinebeck, NY.

Jenn and I are here for a “soul shift” workshop that’s far too touchy-feely for her (and possibly for me, too). We didn’t really know what we were getting into when we signed up—it was this, a couple’s class, or learning how to be a psychic (to be honest, that one sounds kinda fun). But she’s here and I’m here, and she’s going along with all of it, because it’s my 40th birthday weekend and she knows how much I’ve been wanting to visit Omega. I love her so much for that, among many other things.

There are about 35 other women in this workshop with us, all of whom came to work on themselves. To figure out why they feel stuck, what’s holding them back, and how they can move forward with more self-love and self-confidence. I’m not just assuming these things—it’s what they’ve shared with the group throughout our time together so far. They want to reclaim their time, their hearts, their voices, their spirit. To release self-doubt, shame, obligation, and fear. To learn how to remember who they really are, and were, before life made them believe them otherwise.

I understand all of this. On so many levels.

And yet, I feel a little bit out of place in this room. Almost like an imposter.

Not because I don’t understand these other women—the deep sense of feeling like they’re disconnected from themselves, and are here to try to find their way home. But because, at least in some ways, I already feel like I already have. Like I’m already I’m on the other side.

I haven’t spoken much during the sessions so far. Instead, I’m consciously sitting back and listening. I’m celebrating and appreciating the vulnerability in the room. I know that’s not easy. So many of these women’s stories resonate with me because they’re my stories, too.

I’ve done so much work these last few years. Learned so much about who I am, what I want, what I can let go of, what really matters, and what’s just noise that gets in the way.

I’ve sat in the pain, and questioned my life. My beliefs.

I’ve thought that everything around me was falling apart, only to realize that the only constant in every situation—my work, my marriage, my parenting, my body and eating issues—was ME.

And I’ve learned that while I can’t change the external world, I can change the internal one.

I am the only one who can save me.

(With a hell of a lot of teaching and guidance from writers, spiritual leaders, coaches, and therapists, of course.)

The women who we are here with this weekend, I think, are still on the journey of figuring out that one enormous truth. I have so much respect and compassion for them, because I have been there. I know how hard it is to show up. To be raw, and honest. To ask for help.

I still feel like an observer, or maybe an emotional anthropologist, studying and witnessing the start of their transformations. But I also know that even though I’ve already been where they’re sitting right now, it doesn’t mean I won’t be back there again. The difference next time, if and when that happens, is that I’ll know I can allow whatever I’m feeling just to be what it is. To accept the pain, the shame, the regret. To let them pass through me without getting stuck. And to remember that I will always come out the other side OK, because I’ve done this before.

So maybe I’m not as out of place here as I thought, even though I may be at a different point in my journey. Maybe sitting on this chair, under this tree, with the sun shining down on my skin, is exactly where I’m meant to be.

So that’s what I’m going to honor and celebrate this weekend:

Calm. Lightness. Growth. Understanding. Beauty. Love. Nature. Showing up. Connection. Compassion.
And yes—

Me.