The year after my divorce I lived in this cute little studio on St. Marks by Thompkins Square Park. The place was just enough space for me and my sweet pup, Luna. The apartment faced the back of the building which opened up to all this greenery and was amazingly quiet. I loved sitting in front of the windows to meditate and practice handstands along the wall in between. The kitchen was the size of my armpit in the corner but the 2 door closet made up for it. I made this the peaceful sanctuary I needed to regain my confidence and trust in myself.
Most mornings I would work on my computer and then make a beautiful balanced salad from my local farmers market. On Sunday’s I would treat myself and go next door to the macaroon parlor. Each time I stopped in, I told myself that the sweets would last the week but truthfully, they never made it past sundown. This routine gave me a lot of comfort, but the overindulgence in baked goods was really my way of escaping my reality, the reality of my divorce and how I no longer seemed to have control over the direction my life was going. This wasn’t the life I wanted or planned for… How is this real? Each sweet bite was like a tiny burst of joy that fed my need for dopamine and instant gratification, while simultaneously allowing me to avoid the elephant in the room.
Most of the time I kept busy and found projects to occupy my time. My feelings were too much for me to be with on the regular, especially without the support of a therapist. My current self understands that I needed a safe space to be with my pain and know that I would feel differently at some point. The feelings of being unimportant, discarded and unlovable sat in the back of my mind and I wasn’t ready yet to show myself that I am here, I am important and I am lovable.
We don’t always want to meet our own needs because in our minds, it feels better for someone else to meet them. They see me, they show me love, they fill the void. The hard work for me is redirecting what I offer others back to myself. It takes some time for me to be ready to sit with what’s really up. To see my inner child feeling scared and alone and talk to her, comfort her. I spent so many years being annoyed at her needs and now I’m so tender toward her. She’s so innocent and just wants to be loved and seen.
Similar ways I've seen my clients share this experience are:
working a lot
always responding with how busy you are
feeling exhausted all the time
always needing to fill your time
no time to read for pleasure
always planning for the future
having a hard time being here now
focusing on others before you fill your cup up
forgetting to move your body
shallow breathing
not enough time in nature
rushing out the door every morning
The lesson here? There will be times where we are overwhelmed by what life has thrown us; what we don’t have control over and what doesn’t feel safe. These times can put us in a cycle of being busy or distracting ourselves so that we avoid feeling what’s underneath.
Noticing the pattern
Having compassion for yourself
Knowing that you’re doing the best you can
And then when you’re ready, slowing down
Finding ways to be quiet with yourself
To listen to what your body has been holding onto for you
Journaling
Meditating
Dancing
Being active in ways that you enjoy
Laying down with your hand on your heart and asking what would be helpful for you to be aware of or be with.
I always suggest finding a therapist that you feel safe with when you’re needing support or feeling lost. The human experience is one that’s not meant to go through alone. We need support to survive and thrive. I know it can feel scary and you can be unsure of where to start or how to listen. I’ve included a guided meditation so that you have a framework on this exploration. I’m here if you have any questions or if you’d like to share your experience with me. Saying the thing out loud or writing the thing on paper (or even typing) brings our attention and awareness in a way that doesn’t happen when the thoughts stay in our mind.
Sending you compassion and space dear friend. I support you slowing down and listening when you have the capacity and the tenderness.
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