When we can't unsee what we saw

A conversation between Fear and our Spark

Back in 2017, a very anxious younger version of me finally faced my mounting anxiety. Fear pushed me to the edge of myself and I couldn’t look away one moment longer. I accessed an ounce of strength hiding in the dusty corner and pulled it to the surface, like a rusty bucket in a deep well.

No hands to guide me away from the wreckage of my inner world, my eyes blinked open in shock as my coping mechanisms crystalized in view.

It was time.

Why was I so scared?

I tapped out these words on my phone in early 2017…

waking up

i’m waking up
glistening tears, tight throat, screaming muscles
i’m waking up

new questions
old worries
decades of an autopilot
that’s simply wrong 

i’m waking up
even my fear is afraid
i’m waking up

you are brave, they say
but this isn’t how i wanted to wake up, i say
i’m waking up

not on my timeline
not according to plan
with no controlled outcome
i’m waking up

waking up is kind of a mess
the glistening tears are close friends
fingers type
words flow
music moves
branches sway
feet dance
hands release

i’m waking up

love, i don’t need you
to take this away
but i need you to stay close

my life is beautifully dismantled
pieces of the me i’ve always been
are lying on the floor

i lovingly gaze at these pieces
they’re stunning

i was doing the best I could, i say

i’m waking up

freedom

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We show up

As we seek to be people who show up to our life as it is, we’re invited to notice the parts of our life we’d rather ignore. The things we brush away. It’s not a big deal. That’s just how I am.

Problem is — if it’s hurting you and the people you love, then it’s worth showing up to.

As I work with beautiful humans around the country, there’s an ache in many stories. There’s something about life they seen and now they can’t unsee it.

They see what they see. They know now. They can’t un-know it.

They’re painfully aware our culture’s mode of operation is to ignore and deny all challenging emotions. They know they could walk that route with familiarity. Move on and pretend all is well.

But this time feels different. The seeing and knowing sparks something. Something in their soul lifts its head, wildly curious to see what might unravel next. Maybe what’s on the other side of this could be good.

That moment right there? It feels like a spark to me. Kindling in the corner. Wondering if anyone is going to snuff it out or let it crackle and warm and wonder anew.

Maybe there really is another way.

Fear joins the chat

In direct response to wild curiosity, Fear joins the chat:

Fear: We can’t let this go. It’s all we know. I’m here to protect you and I can’t if you continue down this path.

Spark: I hear you. But what if I don’t need protecting from this anymore? We’re so tired from fighting it. Maybe we’re ready to face this. To feel it. To let it go. To ask new questions about what’s possible. To love us in a new way.

Fear: I’ll show you. Here’s five more things to be afraid of because I’m determined to keep you safe.

Spark: Fear, you’ve done an incredible job keeping me safe. Thank you. You’ve meant well. But now, I genuinely can handle one small step at a time in this new direction. Let’s go together and I’ll show you it’s okay to relax into the spaciousness I’m slowly creating in here.

Photo by Tim Collins on Unsplash

My entire being shimmers to life when someone shares a chapter of their story with me and I see their spark. I feel it.

Oh, my reader. It’s glorious. Just beautiful.

What about you?

Is there something about your life that you’ve seen for what it truly is and now you can’t unsee it?

What emotions does that bring up?
Do you notice a spark of curiosity?
What does Fear have to say?

What might happen if you spent time reflecting on a pattern or painful coping mechanism or old story that’s ready to shift?

How might Love long to care for you this day?

You’re worth being seen.
Being loved.
Being known.

May it be so.

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**For anyone within driving distance of Columbus, Ohio**

As we ease into this next season of being human, we acknowledge the deep grief we hold. Whether from loss of loved ones or the isolation of the pandemic or trying to find new rhythms, there’s a sense of loss that permeates the air. Our world socializes us to shove grief to the side and barrel forward, determined to succeed again.

But what if gently entering our complicated grief is where our healing and wholeness invites us next? We want to be honest about our grief so we can turn our attention to new invitations of life.

Through storytelling, ritual, reflection, and communal noticing, we will journey into the grief that lives in our bodies.

All are welcome to A Weekend of Healing on May 5-6, 2023.

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Still Here: A Poetry Memoir of Grief & Love