Growing

I stepped into the local bookshop, and French music was playing. With my soy latte in hand, it felt like I was in a 1990s film of perfection. After I grabbed a copy of Julia Cameron's Artist Way, I said my goodbyes to the clerk and wandered around the rest of the downtown area. As I walked, I thought about how far I'd come. Character-wise, I mean. While I think we all agree we all are shitheads from eighteen into our early twenties, I sure should have gotten a medal—the best shithead award. I give the past me props for drawing the line with myself and my spit-fire, harsh, lousy attitude, indulgent, and egotistical behavior.

I did what many would like to call inner work, cleaned up my act, and put my immaturity on the shelf for good, or so I thought. As life went on, we had children, which brought such beauty to our lives, but at the time, many hardships stood in front of our faces as well. I was holding a precious baby in one hand and the pain of life in the other. To cope, I took that past version of me off the shelf because that version was strong enough to handle it all, but she wasn't pretty, and it took me off the path of where I felt I was as my best self for not only me but for the people I love. For years, we will hold on to personalities and forms of ourselves that once served us. The personalities had a purpose and could have been formed from childhood circumstances when that person made fun of who you were, so you closed up so they couldn't see the real you anymore, and if they made fun of the mask you put on, it wouldn't truly hurt you. It could have developed when you didn't feel good enough, and instead of being sad about it, you decided to say FU to the world, but that turned your heart cold and distant; you pushed people away from you. Or it could have been hardships that piled up in your life that required unshakable strength and rigidness. In one way or another, we use these masks, shields, shells, and walls to guard our inner essences so that we don't get torched by the words of others, the feelings of insecurity, or the unfortunate events of life. When we feel at war, it is the best strategy to pull. But what about when the coast is clear? When is it safe to just be? How do we let go of that hard shell we backed ourselves into? How do we extract the strength from the armor for future unforeseen circumstances and leave behind what no longer aligns with us? How do we soften and buff out the edges that keep cutting ourselves and others that come close?

I have found that it takes doing the things that soften your soul and doing the things you know you are supposed to do that you haven't prioritized. To extract strength from the armor, I traded foods that weighed me down for foods that made me feel lighter and refreshed. I swapped the excessive drinking with lots of water and hot tea. Doing this gave me a trio of clarity, focus, and energy, giving me the power to get things done rather than numbing to push through. Movement through my body was the foundation of building the fortress. Through each walk I took and each lift of weight I lifted, the pain and stress backed up in the depths of my body were released through my pores. The stronger I got physically, the more the armor became too small, and it finally broke. Through listening and reading books from the best people on the planet who have gone before us, adopting their mindsets and making room for silence to hear my wisdom and intuition to journaling to reflect. As I did this, I was gifted with mental sharpness and material that I could draw upon whenever I needed it. However, I had to earn mental strength by staying true to my word and being consistent throughout my actions, even when I did not feel like it, which delivered results that mattered to me. The more I saw outcomes aligned with my best self, the more my compensation was layers upon layers of confidence.

The last piece I was left with was to soften the shell enough to wiggle through it. I am still working on getting the debris of harshness off of me today. I am still buffing the rough edges. It is a daily practice of choosing to see, be, and act with love. I am choosing to do the things I love, like cooking a new recipe, being near the water, being in good company, discovering new places, going on walks with the dog with a coffee, and the sunrise as my scenery. It's enjoying the simple things and taking a moment to appreciate the magnitude of its magnificence. I'm working on tending to myself, coaching myself, and encouraging myself instead of being hard on myself and others. Softening, for me, is the most challenging part. Ripping off the mask you've been wearing for most of your life is an uneasy feeling. That voice in your head starts asking questions. After I get out of this shell and remove this mask, who will I be without it? What if people won't allow me to forget the character I was playing? These questions can be scary, and choosing a new way of being takes commitment and consistency to continue to engage in the daily practices that keep your foundation strong. Bravery and creativity are also required. But, after a while, time will pass, and you'll be walking down the street thinking about how proud you are of how far you've come and how blessed you are to be growing into yourself.