I have been deep in the work of unmasking and peeling back layers. For a while, I held on to that word. Unmasking. It sounded right. It sounded safe, if uncomfortable.
However, I am starting to realize that I didn’t just don a mask, I built a whole freaking dam inside myself. Stone by stone, in silence, smallness, fear, and shame, I built an unscalable wall. Effectively damming my emotions, behind it I hid my grief, my hunger, my dreams, my drive. I hid my self.
The dam was my survival.
It kept despair contained.
It kept grief in check.
It made pain survivable.
It made me acceptable.
But it also kept me small.
Bored. Stuck. Empty.
It has stood and been reinforced most of my life, but as I have learned to practice self compassion cracks appeared. And as I heal, the cracks spread. Water seeps. I keep patching, but my hands are tired. I am tired. And maybe, just maybe, I’ve been letting it weaken for a long time.
Maybe it’s actually time to tear down the whole damned dam.
That thought terrifies me.
And it thrills me.
Because I know what waits in the wake of tearing it down. The flood will come first – chaotic and uncontrollable, powerful and unstoppable. But then the river will calm and find its path. It will move the way it was always meant to – wild, gorgeous, steady, alive.
I fear the flood. I fear losing what little of my self I have found if I give up control and embrace chaos. I fear being unrecognizable in the landscape left behind. And yet, the deeper, wilder truth in my fear is this: I cannot thrive until the river flows.
Thanks for sitting with me. 💚