Warrior Soccer Training

This morning, on my way to the gym, a notification popped up on my phone.

 
I looked down at the light, and read “But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in your weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.” (2 Corinthians 12:9, NIV).

 
First, I felt relief and gratitude –grace and power –

 
“God’s got me.”

 
Then, I felt guilt.

 
The rest of my drive, I found myself asking questions about this guilt –

 
What am I feeling guilty about?

 
And why?

 
Is it valid? – Are there things my spirit needs to address, or is this just another construct of perfectionism?

 
….another way to say, “you need to be better.”

 
In other blogs, I’ve shared a lot about my personal experience in the last year.

 
I’ve shared about adulthood being the unfinished business of childhood.

 
I’ve shared about trauma, shame, connection, and addiction –

 
I’ve shared about the revelation of discovering that I’m the person I need to love – unconditionally and with unwavering acceptance.

 
I’ve shared about all the things that didn’t go as planned, and the way those things are sometimes the biggest blessings of all.

 
I’ve shared about loss, acceptance, and letting go –

 
I’ve shared about trusting the process, and being more experience driven –

 
I’ve shared about my journey through perfectionism, and the freedom that comes when your “why” is joy driven.

 
I’ve shared about faith, growth and awareness –

 
And I’ve shared about my return to self, and more importantly –

 
My return to God.

 
As I continued to drive, I thought about how my relationship with God, continues to teach me about the health of relationship in general.

 
I remembered my wise friend, Sheree, talking to me about her marriage, and saying “you have to do something everyday for your marriage.”

 
That makes sense to me.

 
Over time, I can imagine that slowly and subtly, a marriage can become cold and distant if both people aren’t making deposits.

 
If both people aren’t investing in the little things that matter –

 
The things that foster connection and love.

 
And before you know it, you’re living with someone you don’t feel like you know, without a road map as to how to get back, or the faith that it’s even possible.

 
I could see how in this relationship –

 
With God –

 
I allowed that distance to creep in.

 
I stopped participating.

 
Prayer was sparse.

 
I started doing what I felt like, instead of what I believed.

 
I started seeking guidance from outside sources.

 
I started investing more in a human relationship, then I was investing in my spiritual relationship.

 
I started asking what I think, or what you think, before asking what God thinks.

 
I think through adulthood, we’re trying to discover our own voice –

 

We’re trying to meet ourselves in every way, and in the purest forms –

 
We’re experimenting in our pursuit toward living the lives we hope to live.

 
We experiment with careers, relationships, living arrangements, locations, friends, etc.

 
But for me, I’ve learned, that finding my voice is a by product of knowing God’s voice.

 
…I can’t work backwards.

 
My source is God.

 
And history has shown me again and again, that anything I put above God, I lose.

 
To be honest, if it’s something that’s pushing God out of the way, I’ve learned it needs to go.

 
And listen, this isn’t a Christian sales pitch, asking readers to believe what I believe.

 
Anyone that knows me knows that’s not my style.

 
One of the big loves of my life was an unbeliever.

 

He believed something vastly different.

 

One of my dearest friends believes in something else.

 
In every way, I am an advocate of “you do you.”

 
Authenticity first.

 

 

But, whatever you believe, if you read the text, I think we can agree that weakness is a part of the human experience.

 
I think we can agree, that we need to find our personal power somewhere…

 
Our source, somewhere….

 
So my questions are,

 
What are your weaknesses?

 
What do you do with them?

 
Where do you take them?

 
Do you acknowledge them, or deny them?

 
Do you share them, or hide them?

 
Where’s the source of your power?

 
…Is it you alone?

 
…Is it something bigger than you?

 
And how’s all of that working out for you?

 

Wherever your answers reside, I hope that we can all believe that our greatest weaknesses – our biggest liabilities – have the potential to become our most powerful assets if we choose to be honest, find our power, and use them for good.

I have a niece that’s five.

 
Starting at two or three, when I would say things like “Livy, you colored that picture so well, sweetie!” or “Livy, you’re so strong!” or “Livy, you look so pretty!”

 
Little Olivia would look at me with complete confidence and simply say, “Yep.”

 
No sarcasm.

 
Very matter of fact.

 
…. “Yep!”

 
In adult language, my little niece was pretty much saying, “Ya’ damn right, Auntie.”

 
I inevitably laughed each time at her shameless confidence, that was so unintentionally cocky, and more of a display of her love and kindness toward self.

 
Really, what I saw is purity.

 
And freedom.

 
Liv was free of any sense of shame.

 
She knew of no standard – she held no comparisons.

 
This little girl only knew what she had, and she owned it every time.

 
And this is the same the little girl that told me last year, that she would grow up and “marry someone really nice,” causing me to question my own standards, and humbling me into realizing that a four-year-old may know more about what really matters than I do.

 
We joke all the time in my family, that there needs be a website called “BeLikeLiv.”

 

At least a hashtag.

 
Liv turned five in December, and like all healthy developing kids, I’ve started to see her get embarrassed by some things.

 
Each time, all I can think is – I hope I never stop seeing confidence and start seeing shame.

 
…I hope you never change.

 
Over the years, training players, I’ve seen this sense of empowerment more in boys than girls.

 
Now, I can’t generalize. My niece and nephew have taught me this well.

 
But, often times, I observe girls questioning their ability.

 
Many times, I’ve worked on footwork with young female players for six months to a year before they gain the confidence to attempt to beat a player one on one with a skill in a game.

 
Many times, I’ve taught these same skills to young male players in just a session or two, and several of them walk onto the field the next day like they’re Cristiano Ronaldo.

 
Which of these scenarios do you think constructs a more pleasant internal environment for the person?

 
The child that thinks “I can’t.”

 
Or the child that thinks “I will.”

 
It’s a mindset.

 
And much like being an athlete, life is experienced through the lens we create.

 
After being on both sides of this thing – “I can’t” and “I will,” at many different times as an athlete, I can tell you, “I will” is a much better place to be.

 
Even if you don’t, you’ve empowered yourself along the way.

 
You’ve failed trying, with everything you’ve got.

 
And you don’t have to live with questions.

 
The older I get, the more I care about personal wellness, and the less I care about appearances.

 
Your internal state and your ability to reside in a positive place, impacts all of your relationships. Your relationship with your creator, with yourself, and with others.

 
It seems to me, that at some age, as women, most of us bought into some strange code of conduct, that keeps us from appearing….confident?

 
It leaves me with questions like :

 
Have we learned the appropriate way to be a woman is to be more comfortable owning what we’re not good at, than what we are?

 
Have we learned to be more comfortable self-deprecating, than loving ourselves and our bodies?

 
Have we learned dissatisfaction over gratitude?

 
It seems the vast majority of us are always trying to be better, smarter, thinner…

 
And while I don’t think there’s anything wrong with always raising the bar, I think we should be like Liv in the process.

 
Unconditionally loving and valuing ourselves during every step of the way.

 
That means, we don’t self deprecate.

 
…Not to deflect compliments, because we don’t’ know how to receive them.

 
…Not to make someone else feel better, while we diminish ourselves in the process.

 
…Not to be funny.

 
…Not for any reason.

 
We don’t verbally assault our bodies.

 
…Even when we stand in front of the mirror, and see cellulite.

 
…Or we decide there’s too much belly fat.

 
…Or our butt’s are too big.

 
No.

 
We stand in front of the mirror and say “Thank you, God for this body of mine that works. That moves. That’s strong, and able.”

 
We love it for what it is, because it’s us.

 
We can always improve it, but we love it just as it is – imperfect.

 
We don’t say things about ourselves that are mean, or degrading – not out loud, and not inside.

 
Because the truth is, that most of us, would be upset if we heard those things said about the people we love.

 
We’d stand up for them.

 
We’d hug them.

 
We’d try to protect them.

 
We’d tell them they’re perfect the way that they are, helping them to find their own freedom to make decisions in their lives for change, from a place of positivity as opposed to pressure or shame.

 
I find it interesting, that we’ve learned to hold ourselves to standards that we wouldn’t ask others to rise to.

 
How many women do you know, who have been body shamed by a man who has at least like….five glaring issues they could retort with.

 
….and they don’t.

 
That’s respectable. Keep being nice.

 
But be nice to yourself, too. Don’t let anyone else speak to you in a way that’s unkind.

 
So, if you’re a woman reading this, the next time someone compliments you, smile and say “thank you.”

 
Receive it.

 
The next time, you’re about to say something self deprecating, choose not to.

 
The next time you fall short of your own expectations, challenge that negative dialogue.

 
Because, here’s what your creator says about you –

 
You are loved.

 
You are worthy.

 
You are enough.

 
You are you.

 
…Be like Liv.

Sometimes a new year arrives, and I barely acknowledge it’s the start of another 365 days. I think that happens as you get older.

 
As a teenager, I spent a lot of New Years Eve’s or New Years Day’s geeking out mapping out my goals for the year. Big nerd. …. Like – I’m talking, it was like an art project, and sometimes I was in high school and I busted out colored pencils and glue sticks and God knows what else. I could draw the US National Team crest perfectly, and my autograph was on point. But I took on no shame. It was a creative expression, begging to be released and it set the tone for what I wanted to accomplish short term and long term.

 
I guess you could say I was doing vision boards.

 
But at some point, I stopped. Maybe when I stopped playing.

 
Maybe I stopped believing –

 
Maybe I didn’t want anything quite as badly –

 
Or I didn’t love anything just that much –

 
Maybe I grew cynical, and shorted myself on the power of personal manifestation.

 
I’m unsure.

 

But here’s what I do know – we are at the start of a new year, and I’m remembering that little girl, full of big dreams, belief, and willingness. I’m remembering that we do have the power to make our lives whatever we want them to be. And while I have a list of how I want to improve professionally, and which direction I want to take my life, I have another list. A list about how I’d like to interact with the world in 2019. Because in 2017 and 2018, I got a little sidetracked.

 
I think it’s a pretty solid list – and maybe you can join me in its practice.

 
(Sidenote – this is how I write to myself – in “you” sentences. Might seem a little weird. But, I’m under no illusion that I’m not a little weird. …It works for me.

 

Also, I swore I’d never make “a list” because it seems uptight and confined, and unruly and outside the lines is more my style, but here it is…)

 

1. Do what’s right for you –

“Sometimes the people around you won’t understand your journey. They don’t need to, it’s not for them.” No one will do this for you – you’ll have to do it for yourself. Life is full of distractions, and opportunities to treat yourself poorly, or do things that aren’t in your best interest. Sometimes those things feel good, or right, or interesting –  sometimes we do things we don’t want to do out of fear. In times of question, ask yourself, is this appealing to my ego or my spirit? If it’s about your ego, just know that it’s not what you’re seeking. It’s not fulfilling, it’s not meaningful, it doesn’t last, and it’s usually misguided.

2. Stop Comparing –

Comparison is the killer of joy – your timing is your timing. Your journey is your journey. Trust that, knowing that everything is perfect timing for you. The story of your life, is yours alone, and everyone has a story.

3. Keep it real –

Say yes, when you mean yes, no when you mean no. And no, is sometimes a complete sentence. When you sacrifice your authenticity it hurts your soul – you know this. Don’t do it.

4. Waste no time or energy on things that bring you turmoil or leave you feeling icky. Just move on –

Your instincts have proven to you time and time again that they are trustworthy in their discernment.
5. Follow your curiosity –

Not everything needs to have a purpose. If something makes you curious, explore it. And let yourself be bad at it! You have to be bad, before you can be good. And if you stay bad, but enjoy it, then be secure enough in yourself to choose joy over ego.

6. Surround yourself with good people –

By good, I mean real. Back to “Keeping it real, 2019.” People with good boundaries – people you can trust – loyal people, empathic people, kind people. People who understand that their story isn’t your story, and therefore it cannot be judged. We don’t know the answers for others – we barely know the right answers for ourselves.

In 2017 and 2018, you made the mistake of thinking unhealthy was interesting. No – it wasn’t interesting, it was just unpredictable – which you misunderstood as interesting. And it also seemed challenging, which seemed exciting. The key word being, seemed. Crazy isn’t interesting. Unpredictable isn’t interesting. You deserve better.

7. Treat yourself the way you would treat someone you love – And only allow that in your life.

People who cheer for you, people who care, people who encourage and uplift, and who show up. You give that to those that you love – there’s nothing wrong with asking for it in return.

8. Don’t let fear be the director –

If you stop, freeze, or run because you’re fearful of some terrible outcome – or fearful you’re not worthy or good enough – do it. That’s not a valid reason to not do it. It’s a lie that keeps you from living a full life.

9. Continue to put yourself out there –

Take risks. Meet new people. Try new things. It’s too easy to get complacent.

10. Keep working on yourself through awareness, honesty, and practice –

Change doesn’t happen through behavior modification, change happens within, and as a result your relationships and your life change.

About this time last year, I was listening to a podcast where Glennon Doyle touched on the importance of her willingness to stay open.

 
It was so profound to me, it hasn’t left.

 
…willingness to stay open.

 
In four short words, she summarized what should be, my life mantra.

 
Maybe all of our life mantra’s.

 
As I listened, I was driving to Germantown, preparing for another field session in preseason with the Spirit.

 
I couldn’t help but think –

 
This is what’s happening in my life.

 
I’m waking up.

 
I’m listening.

 
I looked down at my dash, and there was one of my favorite quotes by one of my favorite author’s, Anne Sexton – “put your ear down close to your soul and listen hard.”

 
Why do we stop listening?

 
I think that was the draw back to Maryland – back to my roots.

 
Unfinished business.

 
The willingness to listen again.

 
And not to the parts I wanted to hear…

 
….to the parts I didn’t.

 
…to the things that needed to be dealt with in order for me to move forward with my life.

 
Over the course of a life, I think there are parts of ourselves we can either embrace or abandon.

 
The same is true with experiences.

 
We can own them or reject them.

 
We learn this.

 
But abandoning and rejecting don’t remove their existence.

 
If anything, we send these things to the recesses of ourselves, where they have more power to drive us in ways we didn’t see coming.

 
I’m starting to think the goal is as simple as awareness.

 
Followed by, transformation when needed, and acceptance when required.

 
Progress, transformation and growth –

 
Not always quick.

 
Not always linear.

 
And don’t always add up.

 
Figuring out our crap, sometimes feels like opening an IKEA box. We find the stuff labeled A, B, and F, scrambling to find C, D, and E, with an instruction manual designed for a crypto analyst.

 
But the single thing that we can continue to do, is acknowledge what’s going on within us.

 
To think about what we’re thinking about.

 
To pay attention to what we feel and when.

 
And to ask why.

 
Then listen. Listen, to the hard truth that sometimes sucks.

 
If we practice rigorous honesty – there will be times we won’t like what we find.

 
That doesn’t mean we reject it, or reject ourselves.

 
It means we bear witness.

 
We find our curiosity to understand.

 
We grab onto the same empathy we would have for another, and we extend it to ourselves.

 
We stop demanding something else or something different.

 
Because really, when we’re doing that, what are we doing?

 
We’re asking for perfection, and perfection is just another way to validate the lie that we aren’t enough.

 
Change, at least in my life, needs air to breathe.

 
I’ve never experienced internal transformation by grabbing something disturbing in my mind, duct tapping its mouth, throwing it hostage in the dungeon, saying “go away, or else!”

 
I’ve experienced transformation, when I’ve said : why are you here? What’s going on? What are you trying to tell me? What do I need to learn?

 
And when stuff gets real –

 
We all have decisions to make.

 
Some people blame. Deflect responsibly. Manipulate. Project. Deny. Avoid.

 
Then some of us, may detach. Numb. Try to check out.

 
When the desire to shut down and escape knocks on our door, promising us with the falsehood “this will feel better,” we have to remember it’s a lie that keeps us stuck.

 
It keeps us the same.

 
It keeps the hostage, duct taped in the dungeon, and requires all of our energy be spent trying to make it disappear, stay quiet, or even change its mind, convincing it that there’s no problem at all. Nothing to be upset about here.

 
Shutting down doesn’t just disconnect us with the things we want to disconnect from, and allowing us to remain open to the good.

 
Shutting down, shuts us down.

 
It dims our light.

 
It disconnects us from Self.

 
It quiets the voice of God.

 
One of the quotes I had in my bathroom in my twenties was a C.S Lewis quote that read:

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possible broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it up carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”

 
When we choose openness, we choose vulnerability.

 
We take risks –

 
We share who we are –

 
We put our ear down close to our soul, and we listen hard –

 
We acknowledge the truth of who we are and what we want –

 
We allow life to answer as it will, and respond by doing the thing we can – to just keep going –

 
My sister, gave me a book for Christmas, and the page that is highlighted and circled, with pages bent down, reads :

 
“You will get to a point in your growth where you understand that if you protect yourself, you will never be free. It’s that simple. Because you’re scared, you have locked yourself within your house and pulled down all the shades. Now it’s dark and you want to feel sunlight, but you can’t. It’s impossible,” (p. 61, Singer).

 
Openness is not a journey for the cowardly.

 
It’s a journey for the courageous.

 
For the truth seekers.

 

For the warriors.

 
For those of us, who want to stand in the sunlight, even when that requires that at times, we must bear the storms.

 
To stay open, is to embrace in the human experience fully.

 
And like anything else, if it was easy, it wouldn’t be worth it.

It’s 12:26am – I’ve turned my light on and off at least three times at this point.

 
Each time, I pick up a book to read, let my eyes grow heavy, put the book down, turn my light off, shut my eyes – then, surprise! Just kidding!

 
I imagine the little characters from the Pixar movie Inside Out, running around in my head.

 
My dog, Jackson, is looking up at me – if he could roll his eyes, he would. He exhales with exasperation as if to say, “pull it together, lady. I’m tryina sleep.”

 
This doesn’t happen often – I’m a good sleeper.

 
For whatever reason, the summation of an internal challenge is taking form with a very clear thought –

 
I’m going to have to keep making decisions to be uncomfortable.

 
I’m annoyed by this.

 
I hate being uncomfortable.

 
As a six-year-old, I had every color of sweat suit to prove it.

 
Matching sweat shirts and sweat pants – and it wasn’t for fashion, friends, this was comfort.

 
I mean yes, it revealed my love for monochromatic aesthetics very early, but I wasn’t doing it for the appearance. Let’s be honest, my logic for upping my fashion game, was to rock my white 90210 sweat shirt with neon colors.

 
Like…that was a good day…

 
I’ve come a long way since then, but this is still evidenced by the fact that I workout in a nine dollar Hanes black tee from Target and Nike shorts, instead of super cool LuLu leggings with mesh or fish net or geometric design, and a backless tank with a shelf made for A cups. (Not that all the women that wear them have A cups…I’m just sayin’ some of it ain’t practical).

 
And this is just the physical aspect.

 
Social settings that make me uncomfortable used to throw me into panic.

 
Being uncomfortable is like…. maybe the worst thing I can think of.

 
I rather be in pain.

 
And like really, what is being uncomfortable?

 
For me, it’s anxiety.

 
Fear.

 
Feeling a lack of control.

 
Awkwardness.

 
Unknowns.

 
The sudden feeling of being out of place, or different.

 
Did I say fear?

 
I think it’s mostly fear.

 
This whole “I’m going to have to be uncomfortable thing” first popped up in 2017.

 
I had a light bulb moment.

 
Anyone else have these?

 
It’s the moment that truth enters consciousness.

 
It becomes acutely obvious all at once –

 
Clear – Bold – Concise.

 
There’s no ambiguity.

 
It resonates.

 
And these moments are seemingly shocking to us, sometimes, right?

 
Breakthroughs.

 
Answers.

 
The missing piece of the puzzle.

 
Sometimes they bring us relief, sometimes they challenge us, and sometimes they shed light on the things we wish we could un-see.

 
Usually, when I have light bulb moments, the people close to me, don’t find these realizations quite as enlightening.

 
When I share, they usually hardly react, confirm, agree, claim they’ve suggested this before, or the best – laugh or exhale with a “Thank baby Jesus, she gets it.” (Annoying).

 
This is what happened in 2017.

 
I started dating someone, now an ex-boyfriend.

 
In the beginning, for maybe two months, I kinda dodged this guy.

 
He was super persistent.

 
Which made me angry.

 
…then grateful.

 
Over time, I found that our conversations were hilarious. I was laughing out loud. It was fun, light, witty banter.

 
He was interesting – a good conversationalist – super smart – artsy (which I dig) – there was just a lot there.

 
So, in this battle of not gonna date him, but I kinda like him, I was sitting at the pool at Animal Kingdom Resort with my sister and her family on vacation, and my sister caught me looking at my phone and laughing.

 
She asked,

 
I shared a little,

 
and she said “Isn’t this the guy, you said you weren’t going to date?”

 
“Yeah….”

 
“I don’t know, he keeps trying, But he’s funny as hell. And fun! And actually, the dates we did go on, he’s like legit. Quality, well thought out dates, planned, respectful, kinda old school.”

 
Which, let’s be honest, by 29 (probably earlier), I wasn’t into “meet me at chipotle and let’s pay separate.”

 
At this point, it’s like “Where’s the reservation and what time are you getting me?”

 
So, my sister looks at me and says “so, what’s the problem?”

 
And at this point, my sister doesn’t try to be gentle about this.

 
Her and my brother in law are blunt. And real. And always honest with me about this topic.

 
Which is great, when I want someone to confirm “he’s an asshole, right?!” But not so fun when they’re like “Ash, you’re being an idiot here.”

 
So, my answer as to why I’ve decided not to date this guy…

 
….it’s the lightbulb moment.

 
The crack has opened, and the truth got through.

 
I hear my own answer.

 
And realize that – I’m being the asshole.

 
If this was the reason, I wasn’t going to date this guy, then I deserve to be alone.

 
Because it wasn’t a valid answer.

 
It had zero substance.

 

It became so clear how silly my excuses were.

 
So, this was the beginning.

 
I decided to date the guy.

 
I stopped…

 
…Stopped trying to figure it out, or plan, or self-protect.

 
And as a result, we had a ball for a while.

 
Adventures, and spontaneous trips, and great dates, and lots of jokes and laughs.

 
Ultimately, it wasn’t the right fit for both of us, but at that time, it was perfect.

 
And it didn’t end in my destruction.

 
Or demise.

 
I wasn’t broken, or ruined, or shattered with heartbreak.

 
Sure, it’s always hard breaking up with someone – not a fun time – but it wasn’t some life altering devastation.

 
I learned, and grew, and was one step further along in figuring out what’s right for me.

 
But here’s the thing.

 
The reason I’m sharing this story.

 
There was second light bulb moment….

 
And maybe a realization that was even more important than the first.

 
More than once in that relationship, I thought “I can’t believe I almost missed this.”

 
….I can’t believe I almost missed this.

 
First realization – I’m going to have to be uncomfortable.

 
In other words, I’m going to have to try different things.

 
Second realization – I can’t believe I almost missed this.

 
Then – How much have I missed trying to control or self-protect?

 
The reality of life is that it kicks the shit out of all of us.

 
At some point.

 
In some way.

 
And if we don’t’ have the skills to deal with those times, we are susceptible to becoming like the dog at the animal shelter that hides under tables, and is scared of bright lights.

 
The goal here is to learn how to best respond and keep moving forward, right?

 
If instead, we learn to cower down, freeze, or stay stuck, I think we’ve missed something.

 
So, if you’re still reading, maybe you can run with me on this.

 
We don’t get to sit on the sidelines, and reap the benefits.

 
We gotta get in the game.

 
We have to be active participants in our lives, especially in the areas that scare us.

 
That was my glaring reality in 2017 and 2018.

 
Get uncomfortable.

 
Take risks.

 

Put yourself out there.

 
Take the next step, toward the thing that scares you.

 
In 2019, this will look different.

 
Same thought – same goal – different approach.

 
But, if we want to live big…

 
If we want to experience the things that cause us to say “I’m glad I didn’t miss this,”

 
We have to put ourselves out there.

 
For me, it took a boyfriend to wake up to this….

 
Then,

 
It was going to that tryout.

 
It was emailing that coach.

 
It was taking that opportunity in Australia.

 
It was putting myself out there with new people in Australia, (and here).

 
….And I’m really just getting started, in this commitment….

 
You guys, it turns out those people that are the first on the dance floor…the one’s we sometimes giggle at – maybe even the ones that can’t dance at all – they’re not the fools, they’re the freaking hero’s.

 
The rockstars.

 
They step into the arena of life, embracing it.

 
Being uncomfortable is something we have to be willing to do, in order to live a fulfilling life.

 
And sometimes discomfort will lead to further discomfort.

 
Or things we don’t like.

 
But, it will also lead to the things that would have been tragic to miss.

 
There’s so much more to be gained than lost, when we decide to do the thing that we’re scared to do.

Almost eleven years ago, half way through my bachelors at Penn State, I had a mentor who often said “Acceptance is the answer.”

 

In times, when I was looking for an answer or solution, she would look at me and respond “Ashley, acceptance. Acceptance is the answer.”

 

Sometimes, I embraced this response, and sometimes I would look at her and say “Kris, that’s bull shit.”

 

She would laugh.

 

I would say something like “C’mon, there’s gotta be a way to change this.”

 

She would listen, as I tried to sort that out, which was usually some long winded description of resentments, that I was holding onto for dear life.

 

Then she would say something equally as annoying to her acceptance comment like, “Resentment is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die. ……How’s that working out for you?”

 

Followed up with a question that would smack me in the face with reality, like:

 

“So, you’re going to be able to re-write history?

 

…or control those people?

 

…or tell God how He should have created you, or done that differently?”

 

She would always laugh, with empathy, love and shared recognition, as if to see herself, and say “you’re one strong willed mofo.”

 

Then continue to talk to me about the illusion of control, or gratitude, or some other topic that just seemed irritating, but always resonated, if I was honest.

 

This person helped change my life. But, she certainly didn’t mince any words in doing so. She called me on my crap, and always spoke truth.

 

Kris helped lead me to my first encounter with peace, because she showed me how to put down my gloves and stop fighting the things I couldn’t control.

 

She introduced me to acceptance, which was really a lesson in learning how to trust a God that I claimed to believe in.

 

This morning, I got a text that reminded me of the wise words of my old friend and mentor, and prompted thought about the things we can control versus the things we can’t.

 

I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this in regards to soccer, but sometimes I forget to apply this to my daily life.

 

As athletes, the things we can’t control may be things like injuries, playing time, coaching decisions, or the performance of those around you.

 

Yes, you can impact all of these things.

 

You can properly tend to an injury – do everything you can to aid in its healing, but you can’t magically make it go away.

 

Playing time – sure, you can control how you come to practice every day – your work rate and your attitude – but you can’t control the final decision that a coach makes.

 

And the performance of those around you – you can encourage, direct, and consistently place yourself in positions to help or be an option, but you can’t joystick the people around you like you’re playing FIFA on an XBOX.

 

And we know what happens when we start worrying about these things – what the coach is doing or what our teammates are doing. We know what happens if we’re focused on the weather, or what the spectators are thinking, or anything else outside of our control.

 

We miss out.

 

We miss our experience.

 

We feel drained, helpless, and powerless …. and maybe even a little crazy.

 

We’re probably tense and anxious, instead of relaxed and confident.

 

We enter the bondage of self, and stop being useful to the people around us.

 

We usually perform poorly as a result.

 

And we certainly don’t enjoy ourselves – it robs us of our passion and joy – it steals the excitement of being in the now, and prevents us from responding in a way that would contribute to our success.

 

Focusing on the things we can’t control is a giant waste of energy, not to mention self-destructive.

 

The same is true in life.

 

There are plenty of things we can’t control, like the actions of those around us – how they think and feel, what they say and do, our families of origin, the past, physical or mental limitations, illnesses.

 

And just like we learn to control our thinking on the field through practice, diligence, and a lot of trial and error, we must learn to discipline our thinking off the field.

 

So maybe this morning, you’re like me.

 

Maybe the question is just as simple as “what do I need to accept?”

 

In order to let go.

 

In order to move forward.

 

In order to have peace.

 

Often times, I think we can give “acceptance” a bad rep.

 

We confuse acceptance with weakness, because of its request for surrender.

 

But history has shown me again and again, that acceptance is just the opposite.

 

Acceptance isn’t weak – acceptance is wise, because it shifts our focus from the things, we can’t control to the things that we can.

 

In many ways, acceptance, actually renews our personal power. It frees us to own the power we do have, and to use it in the ways we’re able.

 

So sometimes,

 

Acceptance is the answer.

I watched a documentary last week about a legendary free climber named, Tommy Caldwell and the story about his climb of Dawn Wall.

 
Until 2015, El Capitan’s Dawn Wall, was believed to be an impossible climb. Dawn Wall, is a 3,000 foot vertical wall, with a near granite like surface.

 
In a recent article on National Public Radio’s website, Caldwell said: “‘These little tiny razorblade edges sometimes form [in the rock], and if you train yourself properly, you can learn to support your body weight,’ Caldwell explains. ‘Then, if you practice enough, you can learn to move from one edge to another,’” (www.npr.org).

 
“Little tiny razorblade edges.”

 
For 3,000 feet, straight up.

 
The footage of Caldwell and his climbing partner, Kevin Jorgeson, looks something like a Marvel fantasy. Both, with what appear to have Spiderman – like abilities, ascending up a gargantuan vertical rock, using body weight, precision, incomprehensible skill, and sheer will.

 
What’s equally impressive is that both, spent nearly seven years planning the route – visiting the wall, looking for a route, obsessively training, and searching ways to do the “impossible.”

 
And when they finally decided to make the climb in 2015, they lived on the wall for 19 days.

 
…19 days.

 
…lived.

 
I’m talking these two dudes hung from a tent off the wall, thousands of feet in the air – to sleep, eat, and poop.

 
And not during the most comfortable season.

 
Caldwell and Jorgeson, decided to climb in the dead of winter, because it made for better conditions on the rock’s surface. The downside, was the dangerous ice fall every morning. Yes, this means huge chunks of ice flying at rapid speeds, next to their tents.

 
Can you imagine? Getting your little fuel burner out to make coffee, and shhhhewwww, there goes another boulder of ice three feet from your head.

 
…kind of a deadly situation, you guys.

 
And here’s the best part of Caldwell’s “impossible” climb.

 
The guy doesn’t have an index finger.

 
He had an accident with a saw, which left doctor’s surmising that Caldwell would never be able to climb professionally again.

 
The story is not only fascinating, thought provoking and inspiring – it’s a testament to human will and capability.

 

What if Caldwell, listened to the doctors and gave up climbing?

 

What if Caldwell, listened to pretty much every professional climber in the climbing community and dismissed the Dawn Wall as “impossible.”

 

What if Caldwell, gave up two or four or six years into his planning – because, let’s face it, most of us might.

 

What if Caldwell, finally got on the wall, and –

 

it was too hard,

 

or the deadly ice situation seemed too risky,

 

or 19 days seemed too long.

 

I mean, let’s be honest, hanging your butt out of a tent a thousand feet off the ground to take a crap every morning – like, that may be enough to say “no thanks.”

 

And for most of this story, I was sitting there thinking “do these two guys actually do this?!”

 

…they do.

 

But what if they hadn’t?

 

Would I have thought, “you just wasted like 8 years of your life.”

 

Maybe.

 

But isn’t that what makes something great?

 

The belief…

 

The process…

 

The unyielding determination…

 

The unwavering commitment…

 

The dismissal of those saying “you can’t”…

 

The ferociousness of will…

 

The outlandish audacity…

 

The grit to keep going.

 

Nothing great was ever accomplished by someone who had an enormous fan base of supporters saying “this seems extremely realistic.”

 

Most times, people can’t imagine something until someone bold enough stands up and says, “I’m going to…”

 

And how bout Caldwell’s persistence?

 

This greatness didn’t happen overnight.

 

As one of the best climbers in the world, it still took him nearly a decade, most of which was spent planning and believing.

 

I’m fairly certain after a year or two, I may be like “ok, these grandiose plans I have are exactly that – grandiose. I’m wasting my time.”

 

Or “who am I?”

 

Or “why do I think I can be the one to do this?”

 

But here’s the thing – what if in our lives, we started saying “why not me?”

 

And “Why do I think I can’t be the one to do this?”

 

What if we stop dumbing ourselves down, and instead look up at the 3,000 foot wall in our lives and say “I’m coming for you, bitch.”

 

I just laughed a little.

 

But for real?

 

What purpose does it serve for us to question –

 

To ask:

 

“What if I can’t?”

 

Or

 

“What if I fail?” Or “what if I fall?”

 

“What if the doubters are right?”

 

“What if I invest all of this time, energy, sacrifice – my heart, soul and mind – me – and I don’t get the result that I want.”

 

In my opinion, these questions serve no real, good purpose.

 

At least not for me.

 

They keep us small.

 

They keep us fearful.

 

They keep us from accomplishing great things.

 
They do serve something. Our egos.

 
Which seem to me, to be a cheap substitute for what we really need to serve.

 
These questions serve as protection.

 
From…

 
Embarrassment…

 
Shame…

 
Feelings of inadequacy…

 
Really? …c’mon.

 
The older I get, the more I regret any time or energy I spent feeding these things.

 
Most of these things come back to the fear of what people will think.

 

Or, the fear that I’m not good enough.

 
And no offense, but who the frick cares about what Sally down the street thinks?

 

Tell Sally to grow a pair, and seek the happiness and purpose in her life that she’s too afraid to seek.

 

And better yet, Sally probably has no basis to have an opinion anyway. Who made Sally the expert?

 

The second fear – the fear of not being good enough?

 

I think when we finally realize the depth of our worthiness, and the truth that it’s completely independent of what we do or don’t do, we are free.

 
If Caldwell hadn’t of succeeded at that climb in 2015, I don’t believe he would have stopped.

 
He was too obsessed.

 

Driven by something that can’t be explained with words.

 

And if he died trying, I don’t think he would have regretted that either.

 

I’d also be willing to bet that the experience changed him in some way, or many ways.

 

The support and brotherhood that Caldwell and Jorgeson shared, is something that shouldn’t go unnoticed either.

 

At one stage, Jorgeson couldn’t complete a climb for three or four days.
Caldwell, waited before continuing, because Jorgeson told him he would just finish the climb as a supporter to Caldwell.

 

Caldwell, continued briefly, then told his friend to try again – he would wait.

 

I mean, these guys.

 

Everything a teammate should be.

 

Determined with personal goals, but they still had each other’s backs.

 

How many of us have had people in our lives that we think are our “teammates” only to discover that if found in Caldwell’s shoes, they would have climbed to the top without a second thought?

 

How many of us have had people in our lives that we think are our “teammates” only to discover that if found in Jorgeson’s shoes, they would have asked that Caldwell not move forward.

 

These are the people who want to stunt your growth or hinder your success, if it means they can’t go with you.

 

Neither responded like this. Both, epitomizing what it means to be a true teammate, and possess authentic strength in character.

 

Pulling each other along when needed. Sharing in successes, and offering belief to the other when doubt appeared.

 

There’s such an abundance to be learned from this story.

 

If you get the chance, watch The Dawn Wall, or read about it.

 

Get inspired.

 

Believe again…

 

Because, you are capable of climbing the Dawn Wall in your life.

 

We all are.

 

And in that journey, be like, and surround yourself with, the people like Caldwell who say “You can do it, keep going,” or the people like Jurgeson who say “Go ahead, man. I will clap for you at the top.”

I felt the coolness of the air hitting my face – my hands were cold, but not cold enough that I was uncomfortable yet. I could hear the crunching of the leaves under my feet as I walked, and I looked up to see the changing colors of the trees. The sunshine sneaked its way through the openings, and I couldn’t help but to stop, look up at the light, and close my eyes while I felt the sun warm my face, and my lungs fill with the crisp, fall air.

 

Fall and winter are my favorite times to walk through the woods with my dog, Jackson.

 

It’s cold, and quiet – and always a sensory experience.

 

I can hear the river as it flows – the water is nearly clear, and flowing fast – the rocks are scattered as if to have been placed strategically by a master artist in a piece of art. Then I remember, I believe they have – I thank God for His beauty and continue on.

 

My walk is peaceful – quiet – only the sounds of nature surround me, and the quick pitter patter of Jackson’s feet, as he runs back to greet me from time to time. I find myself smiling, as I watch him burst through the woods, down the trail, into the water and back again. He looks so joyous, and free and I’m reminded of how beautiful it is when we are doing exactly what God has created us to do.

 

I continue my walk, and for the first time in years I begin to pray out loud in a real way. Not in a fleeting, anxious, one word, two sentence kind of way – I begin to enter conversation with God in a way that I have not been willing to do in at least two years – with vulnerability, humility, and a sense of desperation.

 

In my withdrawal, I know that God has been with me the entire time. I start to get a visual, knowing He’s walked behind me when I tried to run away – He’s stayed in sight when I entered dark places, that I knew were not meant for me – He’s walked next to me when I have cried out for comfort, and in that moment on the trail, I imagined that He began to walk in front of me, as I asked Him to guide my way again.

 

It’s a funny thing – trying to find balance. Times where I set goals, and I would nearly kill myself to reach them. Times where I became passive, waiting for things to happen. Both, on opposing sides of the spectrum. And here I stand, recognizing the process of setting goals, going after them, but also the art of allowing things to unfold, with acceptance that I am limited, and that I still believe in my need for guidance from my creator.

 

I can’t help but wonder how often I have tried to define something, reducing it down to a label or characterization.

 

I think of how sometimes, we miss the boat – we decide what an experience or a relationship is supposed to be, when maybe the only thing we should feel confidence in, is that at that appointed time, it had to happen.

 

Sometimes to teach us.

 

Sometimes to reveal things.

 

Sometimes for healing.

 

Sometimes for growth.

 

Sometimes, it’s just a necessary step along the way.

 

As I go through life, I’m convinced that the only thing of any substance is the development of character. Every single experience, encounter, relationship – it’s all about holding the mirror up, giving us the chance to become more of the person who we were meant to be.

 

It’s all process.

 

And like the leaves, there are seasons.

 

Like the river, it continues to move forward.

 

As I prayed personal, honest truths, posed questions, and asked for answers and guidance, I looked down and saw a bird perfectly intact, laying on the trail.

 

I stopped, leaned down, and looked closer.

 

I picked up the twig next to it, and poked lightly, hoping it would get up and hop away. It laid there – still – it’s body soft, revealing that it must have just died.

 

I squatted over this bird and I wept.

 

 

I wept,

 

And I wept.

 

In the background of my conscious mind, I thought “this reaction may be a little much.”

 

Not caring, I allowed myself to weep, and I began stroking the bird’s feathers with the twig softly whispering “Come back. Please come back.”

 

After several minutes, I pushed the bird off to the side of the trail slowly into the leaves, and I began to pray again.

 

I resumed my walk, and got curious. I googled “symbolism of finding a dead bird” and this is what I found : “It may actually be a good sign, showing you that an end to turmoil or pain is coming. A dead bird doesn’t necessarily portend physical death, but metaphorical death. This dead bird marks the end to your search and struggle. A new beginning is just around the corner.”

 

I stopped.

 

I let that meaning resonate.

 

C.S Lewis once said, “Pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains; it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world.”

 

I thought about where I am in life – the decisions I’ve made this year – the decisions before me – the losses I’ve experienced – the personal insights, and the self-reflection. I thought about how so much has been revealed to me this year, and how even though that’s a gift, it can also be unsettling at times. When we encounter revelation, we then have a responsibility to do something with it.

 

My encounter with this bird, was not a mistake.

 

That bird had metaphorical meaning in ways that are so deeply personal to me.

 

And my response…well, that also held metaphors that are deeply personal to me.

 

…my need to mourn…

 

….my desire to hold on….

 

….my request to “come back”

 

…the recognition that I didn’t have the power to change what was happening….

 

…the process of acceptance.

 

For me, this was the Serenity Prayer come to life.

 

“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
the courage to change the things I can,
and the wisdom to know the difference.”

 

While there were personal takeaway’s, there are also universal takeaway’s.

 

Be present – pay attention –  seek answers – remain open…

 

In doing so, we connect with something greater than ourselves, whatever that means to the individual. After all, we never know how the universe may just show up in our time of need, speaking to us, guiding us, and directing our paths.

 

 

There’s a popular song in Australia called “Be Alright,” by Dean Lewis. It’s one of those songs that’s played and replayed on the radio at least a dozen times before nightfall.

 
I love this song.

 
It’s melancholy. Poetic. Relatable.

 
For two months, all I heard was the chorus which goes like this:

 
“And my friend said
‘I know you love her, but it’s over, mate
It doesn’t matter, put the phone away
It’s never easy to walk away, let her go
It’ll be okay
It’s gonna hurt for a bit of time
So bottoms up, let’s forget tonight
You’ll find another and you’ll be just fine
Let her go’”

 
Loss.

 
It’s about loss – and we’ve all been there, right. Probably more than once. For some of us, if we’ve experienced trauma we may even associate love to loss. We expect it.

 

But loss is part of life – sometimes we have to leave a boyfriend, a relationship, a friendship, or someone we love. Sometimes they leave us. Regardless, it’s never easy, it hurts, and sometimes it even feels like a death. There’s no getting around it – it’s just hard.

 
Yesterday during a workout, this song came on, and after countless times of hearing it, I felt like I was hearing if for the first time. Instead of hearing the chorus, I heard lyrics at the end :

 
“But nothing heals the past like time
And they can’t steal
The love you’re born to find
But nothing heals the past like time
And they can’t steal
The love you’re born to find”

 
…. “they can’t steal the love you’re born to find.”

 
I took my foot out of the TRX straps and stood there.

 
I backed the song up and listened again.

 
I felt faith begin to emerge.

 
I was reminded of how interesting it is that we always hear what we need to hear when we’re ready.

 
I thought about how as a little girl, I prayed at eight years old on my knees at St. Johns Church for things little girls probably don’t pray for. Serious things.

 
I planned how I would do things differently when I grew up.

 
How my family would be.

 
I thought about how I had a meltdown at seven, because my mom brought home a wedding dress costume so I could be a bride for Halloween. I literally freaked out. Like….Mel Gibson / Charlie Sheen style.

 
Somehow, in my little girl brain I had attached “weak” to “bride.”

 
…. I chose to be a gypsy instead. Way cooler.

 
I thought about how I disliked the Little Mermaid because Ariel had to turn into a human and leave her family – why couldn’t Eric turn into a Merman?

 
This seems silly – but for real, I had a feminist crisis about this at maybe the age of five.

 
I thought about how all of this contradicts the romantic spirit that I possess, but hate owning up to unless you experience being in relationship with me, in which case I have to work very hard to temper it ‘cause you may feel overwhelmed or generally grossed out.

 

 

The sappy feminist.

 
The independent seeker of partnership.

 
The non-committal loyalist.

 
The girl who will step in front of a moving train for you, but doesn’t like the idea of Ariel sacrificing her fish tail.

 
Internal battle? No, not here.

 
But in that moment, of hearing those lyrics I caught myself between the shift of believing :

 
“the love you’re born to find” being another person

 
and

 
“the love you’re born to find” being me.

 
I literally went from dreaming of another

 
to seeing within.

 
Outside of me

 
To inside of me.

 
The revelation of : “Oh my God, I’m the love of my life!”

 
Now I’m laughing. Sounds narcissistic, but it’s not. Narcissists don’t love themselves.

 

They don’t know how to love, period.

 
People who know how to love, love themselves first.

 
I think often times, especially as women we believe that we must be loved and chosen in order to feel loved and chosen.

 

We’re told this in every message, every movie, every fairytale ever.

 
And even us – the one’s born with a feminist spirit – the one’s who wanna tell Ariel “Listen, lady – maybe Eric can think about becoming a Merman. Or maybe you guys can switch off between land and sea every so often. At the very least, can you guys talk about it first? ….Rock, paper, scissors?”

 
…. Even us, who would rather be gypsies than brides for Halloween, simply because we want to express ourselves in a way that says I am me, independent and ok…

 
…. Even us, the ones who said we would marry soccer when we were children (odd, I know)….

 
….. Even us, the ones who would cringe in younger years to know that we would one day own up to the fact that we were romantics, and guilty of seeking love in others …. even in men …..

 
Us, yes us – learn that we ourselves are still unprotected and susceptible to the lie that “if you love me, I love me. If you choose me, I choose me.”

 
We find ourselves asking someone else to do the job that only we can do.

 
And here’s the truth – even when you are loved and chosen – even when you are accepted and told you’re enough – you will still not feel loved, chosen, accepted or enough, unless you yourself love you, choose you, accept you, and deem yourself to be enough.

 
That’s both a fantastic truth, and a devastating reality.

 
Fantastic in that, you have the power.

 
Devastating in that, you have the responsibility.

 
I can say with confidence, that no part of my life has run efficiently until I’ve learned to love the parts of myself involved.

 
I’ve experienced this with soccer.

 
“The love you’re born to find” was never about finding “him.”

 
Or it….

 
Or when…..

 
Or where…..

 

It’s about finding me.

 
Loving all parts of myself.

 
Accepting all parts of myself.

 
Our relationship with self, is the most critical relationship we have. We have to get this right, before we can get the others right.

 
So yes, you are born to find love.

 
Find it within first.

 
Love you.

I want to talk about something uncomfortable.

 
Well, for me.

 
I just read an article entitled “The opposite of addiction is connection.” As I read, I found myself nodding.

 
The last several months this idea of “trauma” has been introduced to me.

 
That word makes me uncomfortable.

 
Trauma.

 
I think of war, third world countries, genocide, rape, assault…. you know…. extremes.

 
We of the western world…. privileged, protected, righteous. Basic needs met. Trauma? No, not me. How dare I?

 

What if I told you, trauma is far more common than we like to admit.

 

What if I told you, I’m personally working with a trauma specialist.

 

That doesn’t mean I’m broken, or a victim, or dramatic. I mean…I can be dramatic at times, but c’mon. I come from a long line of women where “these are the days of our livesssss.”

 

What it does mean, is that I’m human.

 

And like all humans, I couldn’t control the hand I was dealt – there are some hands that are better and some that are worse. And it’s all relative.

 

But this hand is mine.

 

And I wanna unpack my shit and live well.

 

A few weeks into my time in Australia, with a torn calf and the loss of someone important to me, I found myself in a safe place, talking to a like-minded person who I confided in, and her response was “ohhhh, that happened to me too. I’ve experienced that. It was really painful.”

 

“…. have you heard of attachment trauma?”

 

Have I heard of “attachment trauma?”

 

I looked at her like “excuse me?”

 

How does that happen?

 

How do you end up on the other side of the world, where an issue that’s been raised in a secret room by someone you pay, comes up in a ten minute conversation with a total stranger who says “oh, been there. Here’s what I discovered…”

 

How do you write a blog about your crisis of “there has to be more than this” and a week later find yourself in a church where the pastor opens “There is more.”

 

How do you end up on the other side of the world, connecting with a young girl who confides in you about her relationship – a relationship similar to one you’ve been in – and you are seeing what you need to see, and saying what you need to hear.

 

You think this young girl is special, and worthy of love. You think all her feelings are more than ok – you validate them and you encourage her allowance to feel them – you applaud her courage to ask for what she needs, and you admire her vocalized discernment to know what’s hers and what’s not – and the only thing you want this girl to know is that she is loved. And loveable. And worthy. You hope that she doesn’t start to think that something’s wrong with her. That she doesn’t take on all the blame. That she continues to know what’s hers and what’s not. You see the person she’s in relationship with clearly – because you’re not emotionally invested. You hope that after she’s brave enough to ask for what she needs that she acts in accordance with what she should know she deserves. You hope she doesn’t abandon herself. And you tell her that after her feelings have been rejected and called names by the person she loves – in all her sweetness and romanticism – when she wants to say “I love you” to say it to herself. To stand her ground, and to turn that right back around and to tell herself.

 

And then you get it.

 

You hear yourself.

 

Again, and again this is where it’s at.

 

In the giving, you receive.

 

The irony is, that’s the time you’re not looking to get anything.

 

Most of the time I spend alone, I’m thinking, reading, writing, listening to something, talking – searching – and then when I stop and look outside myself without expectation– there it is.

 

That has to be some sort of universal paradox.

 

This was my healing with soccer.

 

In relating with kids from a place of purity and love, I found healing.

 

In relating to this girl from a place of purity and love, my heart had a moment of clarity.

 

Connection.

 

This is why 12 step rooms stress the importance of working with another person who shares your common problem.

 

This is why scripture says “For where two or three gather in my name…,” (Matthew 18:20).

 

Here’s where things can get weird.

 

If we have had unhealthy connections, we’re probably likely to find ourselves in them again. And when that happens, it reinforces our desire to stay disconnected.

 

We have to learn how.

 

And sometimes, in that learning we will make poor decisions.

 

We’ll over share, before we’ve found healing.

 

We’ll trust people that aren’t safe.

 

We’ll ignore our intuition out of our desire to be seen, heard or loved (which by the way, I continue to learn is our job anyway – annoying, I know.)

 

We’ll find ourselves in unhealthy attachments instead of loving relationships.

 

We’ll keep meeting the same person….

 

Experiencing the same relationship….

 

Re – living the same trauma….

 

And this will all send more signals to retreat and isolate.

 

Don’t retreat. Don’t isolate

 

Let what surfaces within you, surface.

 

Sit with it.

 

Acknowledge it.

 

Let it be seen and heard.

 

Accept it.

 

Love yourself through it.

 

Be kind to yourself.

 

Have faith.

 

Believe there’s light at the end of the tunnel.

 

Trust that connection is good, and can be healthy and stay healthy.

 

And keep working on you.

 

Connection.

 

Trauma ->Shame ->isolation ->addiction.

 

Connecting the dots, you guys.

 

Sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly….