Hello me, I think it’s time we get to know each other.
As I get older, I realise that wading through mud and getting dirty is just as important as lying in the sun. Or in the snow, if the sun is not your thing… Yes, some people don’t like the sun, it shocked me too. Mud can get on your face, in your shoes, and sometimes you can get stuck in it. But if you can wash the cracked mud off your pores and feel your freshly cleaned face you will see it was worth the muck in every possible way.
The mud I am talking about is the parts of ourselves that we may try to hide from, pretend don’t exist, forget to acknowledge or let take over us. The mud that is our triggers, our pain, our grief, our traumas and our past experiences that have burnt us that affect our present.
As humans, we are incredibly clever. We can make sourdough in a snap lockdown, we can learn to snowboard overseas in the winter, we can juggle kids and three jobs as a single mum, and we can figure out how to run triathlons.
But, we are also very clever at bullshit. At carefully treading in a tightrope around the things sitting just beneath the surface. All the things that murmur, make noises and swim up to the surface. The question is, will you give them air?
Just like clothes in our bedroom, we shove into our cupboard for weeks (no, those lululemon Wunder Unders are not going to wash themselves) the more we try to push our triggers and trauma away from sight the more they fester and push themselves out to eventually overflow at the wrong time, in the wrong way.