For those of us committed to living our best lives, who believe in keeping shit positive not by way of cognitive dissonance; but really coming to terms with the negativity of a self-perpetuated fear based reality – that is, our own poverty of mind, self-doubt, envy, falsity, distrust etc. Those of us who know the shadow has just as much to offer as the light. That all our vices don’t exclude us from the love we think our virtues are so worthy of. For you folk, there comes a time where you start to feel a shift. You become the master of your own life, you start to unravel yourself and creep away from co-dependent relationships. You start showing commitment to your goals. You start acting with the integrity of your beliefs. You start showing up and fucking loving on yourself. Maybe you talk about energy and vibration. Maybe you don’t. But you know your life feels different. The lows don’t miss you because pain does not discriminate, but all that grasping in the darkness of your own heart has afforded you fortitude. You start to feel better for longer, and more frequently, because you are dropping the conditions of your own peace: not when you lose/gain ten pounds, not when you make more money, not when you leave the job you hate, not when you have a lover in your bed, not when the political system finally looks a little something like social justice and equality for all. Now. And you feel great.
Until you don’t.
Maybe like me it’s small and quiet. You wake up with a little yearning, a little dissatisfaction. You’re tired. You’ve got a lot of work to do, and you just want a little affection. You persist on with your day, but the feeling calls out to you a little louder: love me. Because at the end of it all that’s what it comes down to. More love is more life. So you think cool. I’ll give myself the affection I’m wanting, but you haven’t stopped long enough to feel all the hidden things tucked underneath the request. Like your fear and discouragement, your apprehension about the next step in your life. So you touch yourself and get aroused quickly, but today your fingers aren’t extensions of your love, they are simply mechanised by your mind. You’re tired enough to give into old habits and so you watch porn. Not the good shit. Not those homemade videos of Black couples bonded, connected and happy. Flashing smiles of comfort and satisfaction, oozing love and care for each other way before either of them cum. The kind that leaves you feeling nourished and hopeful. Nope. You watch two people who are clearly meeting for the first time. Xavier is good. She has the kind of pleasure that starts to plead. That makes her give up on any performance, and give in to the stretching of her boundaries. You cum. But you don’t feel any less afraid, any more hopeful. You lie there throbbing and you start to feel the disconnection flood in. Your liquid pleasure has swept you so far out you suddenly start to feel like you’ll never get back to the best version of yourself.
Few of us talk about how to return to centre. After an argument. After a bad decision. A lie. Whatever. When you fall off your own pedestal shame can keep you from sitting pretty again. I was angry with myself over what felt like making a low-level mistake. For me, it’s the equivalent of getting the two times table wrong, but with the emotional cost of a Ferrari. All the advice blogs I read seemed to talk about feeling negatively after interactions with others. I couldn’t find one that was like “what to do when you fxck with your own energy and contaminate your own damn self”.
So here’s how it went down.
I complained to a friend, because when I’m struggling to be compassionate towards myself the empathy of another is always the first step back to love. She got it. She said it was okay. She laughed with me. I then got honest with myself about what I was feeling. I named it. Disconnection, hopelessness etc., and the tears came. I let myself cry. I let myself talk shit. And then I told myself it was okay. I reminded myself I am so utterly lovable in every state, including that one. Then I felt an opening in my heart. I can only describe it as feeling like I have a whole city in my chest and it’s a seriously windy day. It’s the feeling I get when I meditate and so I knew it was a call. I breathed into meditation for no more than five minutes. And there I was. My whole self. The best version of me.
You might not need to cry, and meditation might not come so easily and quickly. But here is the lesson on how to come back: You will need to be honest with yourself and others. You will need to externalise your emotions – say through tears, dance, art etc. You will need to find the inner stillness of a quiet mind, and then you will see you never left. Like huh? When did you start to believe it was even possible to lose yourself?
Photo credit: Project_Wallflower
Leona Nichole Black