This morning as I sat down to write my book, I thought of a poem I wrote years ago, when I was in the depths of my deep self-doubt. I went trolling through my google docs and began reading old online journals.
As I exited a folder I saw folders for 2014, 2013, 2012.. I didn't open them but I knew what was in them. Photos from those years. Photos of my backpacking days and a lover I no longer speak to. A lover I had a strong connection with and strong sensory memories.
At the same time a song was playing on my iPhone, that reminded me of a Ben Harper song, 'I will not walk alone.' A song I listened to while walking alone in the desert and crying. Purely because the song was so sad.
Back here, in my lounge room in 2018 a tear formed in the corner of my eye. At first I clenched my face, took a deep breath (if only inhalations could take tears back too).
I didn't want to cry. I wanted to write.
I was already distracted.
Then, I remembered what I always tell my clients and what I write about.
It's important to feel.
So I let the tears come.
They weren't the really painful type. They didn't last long. They were an acknowledgement of times gone by - both good memories and bad. Grief for a time that will not come again. For a love who's chapters have morphed and changed. Nostalgia for a time that was different - not better or worse just different and I can no longer live in that time anymore.
The tears, this moment of feeling, only lasted but 5 minutes and then I put my hand on my heart and thanked myself for allowing this moment of self-compassion.
This, this is an art-form. This being kind and loving to ourselves. Allowing ourselves to feel and to be and the breathe into the ever-changing current of our lives.
If you need help, that's what I'm here for. To hold your hand as we navigate life and it's ups and downs - that's being human.