The Storm IS the Point
“when the storm is over...”
I read the quote over and over. When will I better? I wanted to go back to a time before I knew any of “this”. Before I started “healing” because shouldn’t healing feel good? This didn’t feel good…. but I couldn’t back. I knew too much, yet moving forward seemed impossible.
In the vortex of sheer pain, as though by a force outside of myself I was propelled forward, I had opened Pandora’s box of suffering and there seemed no end to it.
No matter what way I moved there was a wall of pain and hurt. And while part of me wanted to cement the walls in, I had a deep knowing of being trapped. Caged. And I couldn’t take it. I wanted freedom more than I wanted safety.
Safety had come at a cost. Choosing safety was how I had gotten in here – caged in, boxed in. I could choose safety or I could choose uncertainty. Both would bring me pain. The pain of regret, the pain of never being able to stand up for myself, the pain of never fully living life or the pain of feeling what I needed to feel.
Pain was inevitable. Suffering was a choice. Move through pain now and heal or choose safety and suffer. Pain was still the end result.
But the eye of the storm is almost unbearable. Everything swirling, can’t make sense of life or what truths or lies you’re telling yourself. I could convince myself of anything – good or bad. Stuck in my head, overthinking, exhausted. Looking for patterns and meaning in everything. I just wanted it to be over. I just wanted to feel better.
I wanted the days of being carefree.
I longed for a place I knew existed but I had never been.
I cried for the aching I felt in my chest but I couldn’t name.
I wished to be elsewhere. I wanted to make it go away. I wanted to eat it away, smoke it away, drink it away. But there was no getting away from it. It was there, ready for me to deal with it.
As I dealt with things, the storm did not get quieter, it raged more. The more I sorted through, the angrier I got, the more I cried and sobbed.
“How much is in there?” I would angrily scream at the air. The universe? God? I don’t know who I was talking to but I was angry at him too. I was following the clues, I was “doing the work” and still I was not better.
When would I be better?
And the storm raged. Uncovering new things, deeper levels and more layers.
The storm grew. And I thought it surely must be showing up on a radar somewhere. But few people even noticed. I guess they were in their own storm. As I was in mine. For we are all fighting a battle no one can understand.
Faith asked a lot from me. And I fought with that too. I didn’t want the gifts it promised. I just wanted to feel better, to have freedom, to be able to give and receive love, to contribute to the betterment of the world, to have a purpose, a passion. Was that asking too much?
I asked a lot of questions in those days. I wrote a lot. Most of which makes no sense and looks like the journals of a mad rambling woman. And I was. That’s exactly what I was.
As I worked through the wreckage of my life I knew to create something new I had to understand why I had created all of this. Each piece brought me lower and lower. Until eventually my knees were on ground.
I couldn’t stand anymore. Not on my own. It hurt too much. Seeing it all. Looking at it all. No wonder I put up walls, no wonder I chose safety. No wonder I looked away. No wonder I couldn’t face it.
Here, at the bottom, looking at it all I realized:
The storm was my healing.
The storm tore apart, piece by piece, the house I had built, the walls I had erected to protect me. When would I feel better? When I surrendered, fully.
At the bottom, I couldn’t look away. I had to see it for what it was. All of it. The ugliness. And even the beauty. Because as much pain as we feel for the ugly, we feel just as much for the beauty – the feelings of not deserving it, not being worth it, the shame that comes with being good at something, having something, that others do not. At the bottom too is the truth, the knowing of who you are really, underneath all that stuff.
It’s the double edged sword. Sabotaging our own success and lives because we feel unworthy or not deserving. Perhaps we deserve the bad things but not the good? At my core, I believed the bad about myself but not the good. I believed the bad things that happened were somehow my fault. But I couldn’t own anything good about myself.
And somehow here, at the bottom, staring at it all, I could see the disconnect in that. I could see the hurt, the pain, the full 360 view of why I did the things I did, why I shut down, smoked, ate and pulled away, withdrawing from the world.
It was “safer”.
Everything my soul wanted was on the other side of the fear. While I felt like nothing was changing, I was in pain everyday, the truth is, everything was changing. I was removing things from under the rug. And while they led to my breaking point; That breaking point was exactly what I needed.
Until I fully surrendered and let go in the storm, I couldn’t heal, I couldn’t get better. I couldn’t move forward into the things I wanted until I worked through the things that brought me here.
The storm is the purpose. The storm grows and rages because it is fuelled by decades of pain and suffering and hurt and misunderstandings. The storm IS the healing. And while you’re in it, it feels like it will never end, that you will be consumed by it, engulfed by it. But in the storm is where you will find your true power. Your true wild soul is in there too.
All storms eventually end and the ship will find it’s way into calm waters. When the storm is over you won’t be the same person you were. You won’t even know how you survived it, but you will be better and stronger and more certain than ever about how you are and why you’re here.
The storm IS the point. It’s not supposed to be easy. For how would you grow into the person you are here to be if you didn’t have to fight to become her?
PS… if you haven’t joined our 5 Day Mind Body Soul Challenge – get in here –>> 5 Day Challenge. and connect to your own wild soul!