Saying I'm Sorry

Not a lot of thought goes into apologies, when those apologies need to be made to yourself. Innately, we are flawed and for some of us (ahem ahem), losing ourselves to a fantastical exploration is anyday much more exciting than the realities of life as we see it. 

In short, we live in our heads and push away attempts by our insides to bring it out. We reject it. Draining our own inner strength bit by bit, through this resistance. So eventually, when the inevitable curtains are lifted, we are left spent, drained and at a loss for who to blame. 

I do this. Internalize pain. Lash out at myself for allowing this to happen. For attaching my sense personhood to someone else's thoughts about me. For letting those critical of me, closer than they should be. Because, I'd think, maybe they can see something, I can't see. My blindspots. 

But here's the black and white. The 411. 

No one else can see every part of your life but you. No one else can hear the inner voice telling you what it wants every day, minute. Meditative practices allow you to connect to this voice. Vows of silence. Long quiet walks. Just quiet time spending time with yourself. 

Someone very intelligent told me, perhaps my restlessness is tied to my inability to spend time with myself. Ofcourse, I do! I spend large parts of my day WITH me. Sometimes maybe tooo much time. But it rang true to me. It also seemed to me, that it wasn't always this way. 

And so, I decided to do some travelling. Yes to experience the beauty of the place I was going to, but also to put some space between what I was expected to be in my life. To meet people who did not know me at all, and to let myself be. I thought I was being my true self when I spoke to my husband, to my family and my friends. 

But when I met new people I realised, I have a wicked wicked sense of humour. That I can laugh at things in normal life, that I would call inappropriate conversation. That I could infact spend time looking into the ocean and not feel calm, but cry because I'm sad one minute and be important enough to have people look for me before they had dinner, feel better about it and have a grand time. 

That I could be fashionable. That amongst all these beautiful people, I could be accepted, respected, attractive and safe. But most importantly, I was all of this- without needing to pretend. By leaning back into the seat and breathing. It was liberating. I understood what they meant when they said to be your true authentic self. 

But I also understood what it meant to forgive myself. 

For believing I was worthy, only if I was loved.

 For not knowing I was already loved, lovable and lovely. 

For not seeing, that anyone who had access to ALL of me, would find a bundle of contradictions- who put together, makes a person. And that person was whole, thinking, acting and doing. Living. 

For not being aware that I was strong. For believing that my strength came from anywhere but myself. 

For disregarding compliments as flattery, but accepting all criticism as flaws I needed to work on. 

I am sorry. I truly am.