on integrity, self-compassion and finding me again

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When I finally put me first, I knew the wolves would be waiting - cunning forces that until now had always won and kept me quiet: fear of disappointing those who expected me to show up unfailingly with a smile. Vigilant not to fall short in areas I thought needed to stay propped and steadied.

But this, I realized for the first time, was a rescue mission. The bottom fell out of the pleasing, propping and peace keeping as I faced the real threat of losing myself in it all.

I was met with an awareness so acute that a part of me would stay lost if I didn't locate my own real feelings, a complicated expedition, it turns out. I'd stacked and crammed them deep inside for as long as I can remember. I'd convinced myself that sharing my feelings was a low-value use of time; inconvenient for whoever had to hear them.

But grace shows up when we least expect it, and with it emerged the path home, revealing important truths in sequence, the first - my feelings matter. And your feelings matter. Ever thought about that? How important it is to know that truth in the deepest way….it's the place where our real selves live, I think.

And that felt like the unlock. Moments of clarity followed.

Knowing that my feelings matter, there's value in the sharing. Giving a voice to what was long quiet helped me excavate truths, one at a time - bold moments of choosing me when I said out loud, "This hurt me when…" And a dozen, small courageous choices that honored the me that was surfacing - holding for the first time with honor my feelings and my capacity. Strong and compassionate. I was my own safe place where I knew with absolute certainty - I would never abandon me again.

In countless moments all day long, we can choose to return to ourselves, aligning with what's true….what feels steady in our bodies.

Not letting our voices fade even if we feel unheard. Or shrinking to fit inside someone's world or narrow perception of where we belong in it. Not swallowing the careless comment, assuming they didn't really mean it that way, or let someone's preferences override our integrity. Out of loving self-compassion, we must write our story.

And the real moments of reckoning? I'd love to say it's a slide into what feels warm and easy. Naw…it's the hard stuff. The real test of our real truth. But second after sweaty second, we reclaim ourselves. Choosing me is unfinished work but I’m grateful for the clarity on how to get there.

I wish the same for you.