And did you miss me
While you were looking for yourself out there
I am part of a remarkable group of women who meet once a month. This morning was our last meeting. It was poignant. It was profound. It was exactly right. What I love about this group is that it is not a therapy group. It is really an empowerment group. We listen. We interject. We all have our uniquely different experiences. We learn from each other. We call each other on our stuff. We encourage each other. We make suggestions.
Today, I was reminded, in the kindest of ways, that, to coin my friend Jen Louden's phrase, I am playing emotional whack-a-mole. I hide my vulnerability behind humor. I let very few people all the way in to witness said vulnerability. It takes a lot for me to shed the "got it altogether" persona and just fall apart.
I will tell you my story if you ask (and sometimes even if you don't), but it will be the funny version. Not the crying version. Not the emotionally charged version.
Pat Monahan, the lead singer of Train, wrote this song about his mom after her death. The lyrics, "now that she's back in the atmosphere," came to him in a dream. The song came together overnight. He imagined her spirit as always being with him.
Today, someone shared what they wanted to be grateful for at the end of their life. It got me thinking.
At the end of my life, I want to be grateful for the connections. For the tears. For the love. For the chance to dance along the milky way.
The best way for me to get to that point is to be vulnerable. To stop playing emotional whack-a-mole; to feel to the greatest depth I can; to allow myself to cry my eyes out; to cease and desist using food as a crutch; to remember that crying will not kill you; to know that joy is so very important on this ride called life; to make certain I take the time to appreciate what is here and now - NOT what was, and certainly, not what might be.
I'm off to take a soul vacation.
As always, feel free to share. xo