Hopelessly Devoted

Ever since I could remember, I played it safe. Being raised in a loud family with many voices to be spoken, raised, and heard, I learned to listen, to observe. To wait to be understood and opinion appreciated. With the lack of space to fully express myself, my shy demeanor strengthened with time and influence, and I avoided the occasional risk of being provoked or overlooked. 

I innocently protected myself when the world got hard and scary and learned to keep quiet for fear of criticism, embarrassment, and rejection. If what I had to say was not supported, my inner mean girl encouraged theories of shame and unworthiness. I built up walls only to shield my full potential and inhibit intimate connections and conversations.

Over the years, my truth sank, shrank, and my light dimmed, along with my confidence and courage. I learned not to trust myself. I kept diaries and journals that safely stored emotions — a chronicle of family, friendship, boy crushes, delusion, betrayal, hope, confusion, curiosity, and anger.

When triggered, defensive and habitual reactions became second nature. I learned to weave in and out the tapestry of life in this manner, disguising my authentic self.

When I was introduced to yoga, spiritual and writing practices, mentors, and developed a supportive community of women, I curiously started to catch on to the momentum of influential patterns. I realized I could safely shine a light on my dark shadows, behaviors, and conditioned beliefs. Each discovery offered the opportunity to heal and uncover insight, beauty, value, and grace.

The most important, challenging and rewarding relationship is the one with ourselves. Like a muscle, as you lift and strengthen, it will develop its form and presence. The more we exercise courage, vulnerability, and authenticity, we expand, unlocking our body’s wisdom and inspiration.

It is a lifelong practice of devotion and willingness, adapting and fine-tuning, unique to only us. To allow mercy for our mistakes, welcome forgiveness, and try again—a daily recognition of celebration and progress.

I am still tender and easily influenced by the company of some. When I resist reality and face uncertainty, the pressure to attach to familiar habits arises, and I want to withdraw.

I now practice seeking to understand the mystery of my soul, of life, and others. When the urge to be validated appears, I am reminded my work is never complete.

I am continually undoing the patterns that once defined me while keeping the faith and magic alive as I surrender and rest in the unknown of who I continue to become.

I do not judge the first 30+ years of my life through the lens of disappointment or heartbreak. There was also a lot of fun, laughter, joy, and support. All those things existed and still exist at the same time.

But I know now that my desire to be understood, a longing familiar and believed achievable by external validation and acceptance, is attained within.