I took over a week away from social media. I took over a week away from writing. I took over a week away from my practice that is showing up here in this space with y’all. I found that showing up here needed a pause so that I could turn back towards the relationships in my life that hold me, and I them. I needed space to have the hard conversations. I needed to sit with the emptiness of my schedule. I needed to recognize the space between what this season has looked like for me and what I dream of it feeling like.
It’s easy for me to sink into these spaces and feel like my work and my words mean nothing. It’s easy for me to say that if I fade into the abyss that no one will come looking. I recognize the feeling of my stomach gnawing at itself, and I remember.
I remember that I’ve gone too far.
I remember that it’s time to pick parts of my practice back up.
This remembering allows me to see that this practice of showing up outwardly is also a practice of showing up for myself. Without the container that is writing, I am without a layer of accountability in my vulnerability. I am telling myself and my practice that I’d rather show up in the world solitarily when all I wish for is to show up alongside others.
When I fall away from my practice, the feeling of aloneness quickly transmutes into the feeling of isolation. I’ve created a world of relationship and art and joy to hold me in these moments, and yet in these moments I convince myself it’s just me out here facing the hard things.
A huge part of my current practice is remembering.
I am remembering to speak kindly to myself. I am remembering to show up with my words. And so when I’ve just about convinced myself that this work is worthless and no one is reading, I remember.
I remember to open my dashboard back up and see what notes y’all left me. I remember to check my emails and reconnect with a friend from marketing class. I remember to express gratitude for the tinctures my magical friend sent me. I remember to sign up for that yoga class. I remember to text my friends to go climbing. I remember to buy myself the juice and sparkling water and beverages that make me feel excited to hydrate again.
Perhaps the beginning of the year feels like stepping into a new threshold — one where the pressure of starting anew is the only way to move forward. I argue that this time of year could be used to remember all that was left behind. Perhaps it’s less about starting completely anew and more about remembering what was set down that is asking to be picked back up again.
Let us remember ourselves alongside our practice. Let us remember to hold ourselves alongside our loved ones. Let us remember to hold graciousness in the process of remembering.
Let us remember.
Meredith