You know how you can go along, slowly making changes, but it seems so gradual that day by day it seems like nothing changes, until one day you stop and realize your life is completely different than it was a year ago? It can go either way, of course, when we get stuck in ruts, we can look up one day and find ourselves with a lot of unhealthy habits and then a renewed desire to improve our life. But what I want to focus on today is the part AFTER the dark night of the soul (more info on that here and my tips on how to navigate it here). When you are finally incorporating the methodologies and practices that feel like home in your soul. You've settled into a new routine - maybe yoga, or breathwork, or meditating, or channeling (or all of them if you are a textbook overachiever like me...what can I say, I'm forever a work in progess and I like to try out allllll the tools to find what resonates most). Whatever it is - painting, hiking, dropping into your gut to make a decision, playing and being silly more, prioritizing sleep, training for a 5k (hey, some of us...ahem, me) have to train before running more than 1/2 a block), reading all the books, and going on spiritual retreats - again, WHATEVER it is - one day you'll wake up and realize that your life is a complete 180 difference from who you used to be. You may not even realize how much your life has changed until you have that lightbulb moment.
This happened to me the other night - my brain likes to do it's best thinking when I settle down to go to sleep - and as I started to drift off, I was struck with the incredible thought that I had changed the entire course of my family's life. The life I set out to create when I was young and just married and then as a new mom looks NOTHING like the life I lead now...and I couldn't be more grateful. I feel like I need to add a disclaimer here that my previous life was beautiful too, it just wasn't true to ME. I was unintentionally pretending to be someone I wasn't, until finally the charade couldn't hold up anymore and I was forced to discover who I really was. The goals and dreams I had for my marriage and children would be scary and reckless to the person I used to be. That person was terrifed to rock the boat and definitely didn't want to upset my sweet parents and family. Not that I am trying to upset anyone now, but my intentions are first to be true to myself, and my job is not to please everyone at my own expense.
Lying there, in the space between sleep and wakefulness, I thought back to all the religious lessons I'd sat through beating myself up and knowing there was no way I'd ever measure up. I remembered all the rules I'd been taught that felt so foreign to my soul and the time I'd spent wondering what the hell was wrong with me for not understanding and embracing the teachings the way it seemed everyone around me did. I thought about how I could never let my guard down, always worried that I would slip up and reveal that I wasn't truly a good person, since my own thoughts contradicted with most everything I'd been taught, absolutely sure that if anyone found me out, I'd be cast out. All the times I couldn't hold it in anymore and the questions finally burst out of me, each and every time followed by shame and rebuke for daring to question authority. Being told I wasn't trying hard enough and that I needed to listen to the male leaders - they knew best. The times I was publicly humiliated and punished for daring to speak out. Memories flashed before my eyes of all the times I'd been told that my place was only to serve my husband, to obey and honor him, to respect him as my authority, always yielding to his guidance rather than my own. (Luckily for me, although my husband was raised in the same religious organization and culture I was, he never adhered to the male patriarchy.)
Memory after memory cascaded over me of my previous life, and for the first time, instead of feeling only anger, I felt immense relief. I felt pride when I thought about how brave I'd been to leave everything that I'd known and forge my own path. and I felt excitement for my children. They would never grow up learning these toxic teachings, and when they happen to hear them in the future, will have the tools and confidence to dissect and discern them. I thought of my sweet son who would never have the pressure of having to be a perfect husband, provider, church attendee, and religious "volunteer" in all his free time. And my three incredible daughters who are growing up knowing their worth, learning to trust in themselves, and view relationships as partnerships, instead of a hierarchy that they are always at the bottom of. My older children attended church services when they were young, and as they bring up memories, we are able to have deep, understanding conversations about their perceptions and the teaching they recollect.
At this point, after rehashing my experience growing up in a high-expectations religion, I need to add yet another disclaimer: this was MY experience. It may not be yours. I know many good, kind, incredible people who are devoutly religious and dedicated to their practices. My opinion is my own - I am not trying to paint a picture of what anyone else's experience may be.
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