The decade of my 20s was INTENSE for me, marked by the painful loss of a particular religious worldview and the simultaneous unraveling and awkwardization of the identity, relationships, and future I had long attached myself to. I felt like Neo in the Matrix a LOT.
And my approach to all of those changes was to meet them head-on. There was a feeling of inevitability about them that I decided, because of my intense discomfort with them, could be sped up by not running away. I found a fantastic therapist, some wonderful mentors, and set up shop for nearly 10 years as One Who Works Through Shit.
By the time I reached 30, however, I had not only worked through a lot of things internally, but I was SO TIRED of that work. I was ready to shift gears dramatically from deconstruction to construction, from constantly focusing on who I WASN’T anymore to who I WAS. Or, far more simply…to shift into what it meant to just BE.
Which turned out to be great timing, because that’s when parenthood burst into my life and my space for reflection and introspection got swallowed whole by the work of caring for my son, and two years later, my daughter, too.
My son is 7 1/2 now, my daughter 5, and while time for reflection has slowly increased with their ages, I’ve realized this fall and winter that whatever closing-off I did at age 30 – of the deep dark work I had done in my 20s, of the grief from all those losses that simply couldn’t be rushed through, of my journalling habit and therapy sessions – that closing-off has run its course.
It served me well for many years; I made it through the really super challenging (for me) years of parenting babies and toddlers; I dreamed up and launched a business into which I can pour the insights and ideas that got seeded through my 20s and early 30s; and I’ve learned to juggle LOTS, to experience just how far my body/mind/spirit can be stretched in multiple directions.
But I feel the parts of me that have been pushed largely aside these last years saying, “Honey. Honey, it’s time. Your wholeness and your capacity to do the work that’s yours to do both need you to open to us ALL.”
I’m humbled by my capacity to lug around the self-perception of one who faces her darkness head-on through more than seven years of turning away from it.
But for whatever reason (grace…), I feel kindness toward this me of these last years – this me who needed a break from deep dives and who did what she could to love herself and those in her care. This me who is tired, now, of avoiding grief. And quite honestly, tired of avoiding a type of surrender that feels more potent, more charged with power, than I care to admit. (Who KNOWS where this will lead??)
So I feel a shift in my internal seasons. A new softening to a fuller range of my experience. A releasing of certain identity markers I hadn’t realized I was clinging onto (One Who Has Worked Through Her Grief; One Who Doesn’t Run From Her Uncomfortable Emotions). A welcoming of whatever this is taking me into and toward.
Life has felt hard for many years – full of inevitable challenges and every level of gritting my teeth. And there’s something in the softening I’m experiencing internally lately that is softening that whole view.
Life itself is feeling kinder. More gentle. More full of ease.
I expected the darkness that wanted to rise would be tar-like – dense, thick, heavy – but instead, so far, it’s been light. It surfaces like water from the purest spring: buoyant, bubbling, back-lit by light.
And if that’s the effect of all of these tears – oh, so many tears! – I’ll continue to say yes and yes and yes again to them all.
My dear universe. I’m ready, again, to stop running.
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Guess what? I want to send one of you a free sketch. Comment on today’s post before this Friday at noon Pacific Time and you’ll be entered into a drawing to receive a free hold-in-your-hand print of today’s sketch. 5 x 7 or 8 x 10 (your choice, should you win). I’ll announce the winner Friday afternoon.
I’m delighted to say that for now, as I ready my shop for a grand reopening, this will be my practice for each post going forward. One free sketch each week!
UPDATE: Using this random number generator, comment #8 is this week’s winner. Renee, email me your snail mail address and your preference of print size and I’ll send you your sketch pronto. :)
Everyone else (including Renee, actually – anyone can enter anytime), come back next week for another sketch give-away. Winners always selected on Fridays.
Everything Belongs
Seasons are universal. Treat yours uniquely.
Hooray, Kristin! This is so good. Yes, so good! I feel we’re on a similar wave length, as you’ll see here http://www.kaseymathews.com/word-of-the-year/ I love “buoyant, bubbling, back-lit by light.” So good. So free!
Comment by kasey — January 16, 2013 @ 3:07 pmWow, I feel like you are writing about me. I can so relate to your story and your sketch. I haven’t figured out how to stop grief. I am working on the fear. I appreciate your candor, and your vulnerability. Thank you for sharing.
Comment by Eileen Pardini — January 16, 2013 @ 3:13 pmI am so glad I found youu…you write in words and drawings what is sometimes so hard to get out of my head…I continue to say “yes, that is exactly how I am feeling!”…thank you for your insight into what is in my head and for letting me feel the feelings. I just love you! xoxox
Comment by Pam — January 16, 2013 @ 3:30 pmOh Oh Oh. So what my heart needed to hear today. I don’t have words right now other than that. Letting what you spoke really sink in under my skin. ❤
Comment by Kat O. — January 16, 2013 @ 4:09 pm¨Releasing identity markers I was clinging onto¨. Sometimes painful, sometimes not as painful as we had imagined. Necessary, and source of great peace. Working on that too. Thanks for your words.
Comment by Florencia Cermesoni — January 16, 2013 @ 4:11 pmFlor
It is so strange how when we accept our darker self the light comes in and lifts our spirits, taking responsibility for ourselves and how WE feel can change our world around us like magic, fear of doing this is like a monster but the reality of it is soft and loving. Thank you again for sharing your genuine writings. X
Comment by Paloma — January 16, 2013 @ 4:35 pmThanks for your continued inspiration.
Comment by kippi — January 16, 2013 @ 4:41 pm“Unnameable hard feelings” OOOOHHHH! I know that gremlin :)
Comment by Renee — January 16, 2013 @ 5:24 pmThanks (again and again) for sketches so …. so what? so right.
Thanks
Oh, Kristin, I am so much older than you, and still your words touch me deeply — bring me right to where I am AGAIN. I, too, was the “one who faced and worked through her shit.” And I do it over and over again, peeling away those layers, going deeper. And as I look back, I see that it was the only way for me. That I wouldn’t be where I am today — you wouldn’t be where you are today — if we didn’t do this work when the time was right.
And sometimes the time is right NOT to do the work so we can attend to other obligations in our lives whether those obligations are career or relationship or parenting or even just sinking into the process of being.
You are not alone, Dear One. We are all with you in your process.
Comment by Mary Montanye — January 16, 2013 @ 5:32 pmMary, your presence is such a deep comfort to me. I love the experience you bring to this space – that you have that many more years to recognize patterns and speak to them. I love how you remind us here that this surrendering is no one-time deal…and that the time for it isn’t always constant…that there are seasons of ripeness for it, and seasons when other necessary things must take place.
My trust just got a wonderful boost from you!
Comment by Kristin — January 16, 2013 @ 5:40 pm“It felt yes.” It’s almost hard to read, it’s so true. Thank you.
Comment by Daven — January 16, 2013 @ 5:50 pmThank you for writing this piece and for this drawing. It so very much resonates with me, where I have been, where I want to go, the seasons (and decades) of my life’s journey…grief, fear, unnamed hard feelings,the running, the avoiding…oh yes. But it is no longer possible for me to keep running. Reality-life-love has woken me up and I find myself softening to the trust to accept love-life-reality…not always easy, not always doing so, but always trying again, starting again…yes to this. Thanks Kristin for your words and images, they always speak to me.
Comment by Debbie McDougall — January 16, 2013 @ 6:31 pmKristin, your words and images always speak to me, but this drawing especially resonates. Like Mary Montanye above, I’m so much older than you, and am still doing the work that needs doing. Sometimes it feels right, other times not. I’v worked through the shit” so many times, but it seems there’s always more. Perhaps that’s what life is about; you have to go through the shit to get to the light. So, yes, always trying and starting again, as Debbie McDougall says above. I love your posts; they help me find myself, even though the self I find keeps changing and evolving. I’m so happy to know I’m not alone in that! Sending you much love and light.
Comment by Tina Tierson — January 16, 2013 @ 6:41 pmTina, I love this line of yours: “I love your posts; they help me find myself, even though the self I find keeps changing and evolving.” Yes and yes again – we are such changing creatures, no matter what our egos want to say. :)
Comment by Kristin — January 16, 2013 @ 6:50 pm“It felt yes” — That’s almost hard to read, because acceptance is hard (though it doesn’t seem like it should be), and I thank you for it.
Comment by Daven — January 16, 2013 @ 6:59 pmOh Kristin, once again it feels like you’re inside my heart, speaking exactly what I need to hear. Thank you my friend.
Comment by Karen Coverett — January 16, 2013 @ 7:15 pm“I expected the darkness that wanted to rise would be tar-like – dense, thick, heavy –” but instead, so far, it’s been light. It surfaces like water from the purest spring: buoyant, bubbling, back-lit by light.” I know this feeling as well!! Such a great surprise. LOVE the sketch!
Comment by Therese — January 16, 2013 @ 9:48 pm~Therese
i hurt
Comment by vicki — January 16, 2013 @ 10:58 pmVicki, I’m sorry to hear it. :(
Comment by Kristin — January 16, 2013 @ 11:43 pmme too
Comment by kaye — January 17, 2013 @ 12:18 amthank you
I felt the holding
“buoyant, bubbling, back-lit by light”
it makes me smile
and think of a cave I once floated in
with iridescent skin
xx Kaye
Beautiful Kristin! I am doing a similar surrender practice this winter too. You write about it so beautifully!! Yes running away is hard. So is staying but sometimes the cover of darkness is softer than the light.
Comment by Pamela — January 17, 2013 @ 3:20 amLove the illustration as it documents a five year period in my own life. Saying yes to it is a long slog, a deep struggle. But the resulting freedom is not heavy and wondously illuminating!
Comment by sharon — January 17, 2013 @ 5:57 amThis is a beautiful, soul-full, poignant post. It resonated deeply within me.
THANK YOU for continuing to share your insightful Journey with us!
Comment by Lisa — January 17, 2013 @ 8:13 amKristen: I just love the way you write and express yourself. You are open and honest and describe with such accuracy what you are meeting and embracing. With today’s post, I find myself nodding my head in agreement and recognition. Thank you! Your artwork is wonderful!
Comment by helen — January 17, 2013 @ 9:52 amThank you. At first I thought you were writing it just for me, to tell my story (my kids are 8 and 4 though), but reading all the comments above it seems you were writing it for all of us. So thank you, thank you, thank you. You made me feel at home!
Comment by Suzanne van Vliet — January 17, 2013 @ 11:53 amKristin – First of all, I feel silly commenting now with the contest going on. I was halfway through the post when I told myself to comment (I never do) and now…whatever. Anyway, today’s post really touched me, resonated inside my soul. You have described the journey so beautifully. A similar journey to my own, which often brings me shame, judgement, and confusion. I sit with it. But I long to have the comfort with it that you express so wonderfully. Thank you
Comment by Melissa Q — January 17, 2013 @ 2:32 pmMelissa Q – oh, no need to feel silly! I’m so glad you followed the impulse to comment. My guess is that my comfort with this process will ebb and flow. Feelings are such fickle things a lot of the time, aren’t they? – making us feel as though they’ll be up forever, when the reality is they go up and down and back again. I’m learning to welcome the ease when it comes.
Comment by Kristin — January 17, 2013 @ 11:42 pmThis is beautiful… and I feel a resonance with where I am at in my own life. Thank you.
And I appreciate the comment above, that it ebbs and flows, and that it feels differently at times.
Comment by Stephanie at Visible and Real — January 18, 2013 @ 8:07 am[...] So I said yes. I will stop running. from Trust Tending A really interesting look at how to the urge to self-discover can ebb and flow and about turning back toward it. [...]
Pingback by Weekend Treats | Visible and Real — January 18, 2013 @ 8:16 amWandered over from Visible and Real and am so glad. I identify with a lot of this. Thank you!
Comment by Beth — January 18, 2013 @ 8:57 amThanks for a touching post Kristin. I can really identify with this, and the battle with the label of “one who has worked through her stuff”. I’ve learned the hard way that the ‘working through stuff’ journey is never really over. It’s a constant work in progress that ebbs and flows with the ups and downs of life. Kudos for being open to that journey again and may it bring you all the rewards you deserve.
Comment by Hannah — January 18, 2013 @ 10:36 amWow, feels like I’ve been on a journey just reading this. You have such a gift for sharing your thoughts/feelings! Keep up the great work :-)
Comment by beth — January 22, 2013 @ 8:51 pm