You're Capable. End of Story.
I had a great weekend. Truly. I spent time with friends and family, got to dance, and sing, and led my favorite practice class, Jubilee Restorative Movement. Here I am on Sunday afternoon, though, feeling really down and fighting off some pretty negative emotions.
We've all been there... that dark hole in your brain that tells you you're not good enough, you're not pretty enough, you're not thin enough, you're not thicc enough. Even though I know this self-talk is normal, it still makes me feel like I am doing the wrong things in my life. How can I be leading these therapeutic Jubilee classes if I can't even take care of my own emotions? Who tf do I think I am?
In class, I talk about how our thoughts and actions affect our bodies. Every part of our physical body, from our muscles to our cells, is affected by our thoughts and experiences. All of the events that make us who we are are literally stored in our cells and they affect our physical ability to move through the world on a daily basis. In my most recent class, I specifically focused on reducing anxiety and negative self-talk to open up our hearts to the world. We spent two hours exploring what it means to open, identifying our negative self-talk patterns, and releasing some of that built-up frustration and negativity. We had tears, and laughter, and even a full-on (semi-controlled) temper tantrum. We spent time revealing the things we tell ourselves... "I'm not good enough." "It's too late." "You're not smart." "You're ugly." Seeing these beautiful humans in front of me write these awful things broke my heart. It broke my heart because I see the opposite in them. It broke my heart because I tell myself the same things. I would never in a million years agree with my friends as they said those things about themselves, so why do I think it's okay to say it to myself? Why do I think it's true for me?
We worked to release and reframe our minds and ended the lesson with some positive affirmations to help us dry our tears and find a new sense of community and support. I felt great after class and was so encouraged by the positive feedback I got from my students. I went home and changed my clothes and immediately ripped my favorite romper because my butt is too big. Too big. Too fat. Too ugly. I'm not good enough. I'm never going to be good enough. I can't do anything right. This is why I'm not happy. Who the hell do I think I am trying to teach others how to live fully when I have so many fucked up issues? I have no right to help people when I do this to myself. I'm failing at my own lesson. I'm not good enough. I'm stupid. I shouldn't even try to go after my goals.
Then I stopped.
I made a conscious decision to find the reality underneath the anxiety. I peeled back the layers of shit one by one and slowly saw a glimmer of who I really am buried underneath. That glimmer of my true self, the Rosy who is kind, and patient, and creative, and resourceful. The Rosy who comes out in moments of true peace. I saw her for a moment. That moment of finding Me reminded me of something so important. It reminded me that I am human. I am learning. I am growing. I consciously chose to apologize to myself for the hurtful words. I chose to love myself in that moment. In the moment when I felt so undeserving of love, I chose to love myself.
I'm definitely not an expert on this whole "being a successful human" thing, but I think choosing to love yourself in the good and the bad moments is a really big part of doing it right.
I let out some tears, and then I sat down and I wrote. I wrote this, I wrote an Instagram post, I wrote a text to my BFF. I remembered that my experience makes me more capable of teaching others. It makes me relate, it makes me more compassionate, it makes me kind. I don't necessarily welcome the negativity in my life, but I do see a way to use it for good. I can teach. I can do this.