For the month of August, I’ve accepted David McIlroy’s 30 days of writing challenge ✍🏻
The Inner Traveler is a digital cafe where chairs are pulled up, warm beverages are poured, gorgeous pastries are on the bar, and baskets of warm blankets tucked into corners. It’s a humble invitation into my inner world.
If you’d like to show your appreciation, buy me a croissant. It pairs wonderfully with coffee...and life in general.
ONCE AGAIN, the buttermilk biscuits are still on the back burner. There’s a pebble in my shoe that needs a bit of…digging out.
You might be thinking, this lady is ALL over the place.
Yes, yes I am.
I’m using this month’s writing challenge as a practice to build my vulnerability (and visibility) muscle.
No rules, just practice.
The last four years have really tested folks, myself included. We all need a bit of grace. I’ve made it a point to extend grace to friends, understanding capacities are limited in ways they weren’t pre-2020.
However, I may have confused extending grace with sacrificing my values.
Have you ever experienced that slow motion, come-to-jesus moment of realizing someone in your life, be it friend or family member, has consistently shown up to the relationship in a very specific way? And to some extent, you’ve tolerated the behavior? AND…maybe it’s time to put your foot down (whatever that looks like).
An event transpired a few weeks ago, triggering a slow-burn process of cajoling my mind to finally get on board with what my body and nervous system had known for a long time.
What ended up saving me from further gaslighting and rolling over was my own damn journal.
For most of 2023, into early 2024 I was out of the country. The pattern was not, shall we say, in my immediate space. However, prior to my departure I started sensing inconsistencies, an “off” energy, a misalignment. Sensing being the key word. I didn’t trust myself to speak up.
I was also running around, packing, selling off furniture, renting my apartment, wrapping up work projects, buying tickets. My plate was full.
So I let it be.
Blowing my mind is my coping mechanism - my ability to either totally forget what happened, or gaslight myself to hell, e.g. “I’m being petty, demanding, mean, asking too much, can’t accept someone for who they are”.
What ended up saving me from further gaslighting and rolling over was my own damn journal. I had a vague memory last year of writing down my frustrations, but like most of my writing, I forget what I write.
So I fished out my journal and read my own words. To be honest, I was a little shocked. Clear examples of this behavior were there the entire time, in broad daylight. I thought to myself ok, I’m not crazy.
Normally something like this would crush me.
Instead it’s been absolutely liberating, clarifying, and downright energizing. Why, I have no idea. Something in me has opened, freed up.
Maybe it’s about being 50; I just don’t want to mess around anymore.
Is this what self-esteem feels like? If so, more please.
