interpreting insomnia: on waiting for perfection, and surrendering to the intimate & real

I was up late last night. One of those nights where you kind of resign yourself after a while to sleeplessness and start thinking, well I might as well think about WHY I’m up this late and what the universe is trying to get through to me at night that apparently I’m ignoring during the day. I remembered that a friend had told me that “I stay busy.” I shrank in my seat. I have been busy, and I know why. I have been busy because somehow I feel like I’m still waiting for my “real” life to begin, to be done with all this “healing” stuff and to suddenly appear on the other side of it, shining gloriously, with the abs and hair and with my DONA and yoga certifications and midwifery school applications done. I’ll be seeing my family on a regular basis, I won’t be awake or sad at night, I’ll have an EP recorded and run a voice collective and I’ll be the perfect role model for the women I call friends and clients and I will be The Ultimate Teacher. Ha. I told a friend I’ve been feeling “on hold” lately since we are in the process of moving to a new apartment. Maybe once we move I’ll feel like The Ultimate Teacher.

There’s always something more to reach for.

And so this post may be the most important single post of this blog. Because it’s honest. Because we are all teachers and students at the same time; there is no invisible wall that separates the healers from the healing. We are all healing. We are all healers. I will always be on hold, in progress, and yet complete and Ultimate. Sounds strange, and I’m still a long way from knowing that deep in my soul, but I trust that, daily, I am getting there. And as much as I tell myself that, sometimes I rage against it with a ferocity that terrifies me. Sometimes the strength of my emotions, my anger and yearning and sadness, terrifies me. It’s a power I haven’t always realized I had. I can channel it into random internet searches all night long, or avoiding uncomfortable conversations or the people that I love who make me angry or other unproductive activities, or I can gather that power into daily baby steps toward birthing my bold projects, knowing they, and I, will never be “finished.” But they will always be in progress. And I only hope that a post like this every now and again tells you not that I am unstable and untrustworthy as a teacher, but that I am honest. It’s not that I just say I have “been there” when someone shares their struggle with me. It’s that, often, I still am.

If there’s one thing I wish there was more of in my world, it is Authenticity. Intimacy. Real stories so that we know we are not alone.

So here’s mine.

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