I’ve been talking about starting this blog for about a year now. I noticed that I had essays floating in my head. Not just thoughts or topics, but essays. Each was loosely outlined with stories and supporting points. I’d find myself reciting parts of these essays to people in conversations. Months ago, when there were just five, I figured I should start a list of essays. So I did. There are 30 now, and I’m sure it will keep growing.
Flashback. When I was 23 years old I experienced the hardest break up of my life. My body ached from sadness. I lost weight when I didn’t have any to lose. I fell asleep at night fine, but I couldn’t stay asleep. I vowed to cut off all communication with my ex so that I could move on, but my thoughts of our past and what-ifs overcame me each day. I processed with a therapist and two dear friends who held space for me for weeks. My thoughts cycled through old stories of us, and I worked to critically examine old narratives. As I reflected, learned, connected, and built on my thoughts, I allowed my feelings to crash inside deeper and louder — screaming anger, hopeless loss, and dark grief. Eventually, though, the thoughts became redundant. I wasn’t processing anything new, but churning through a loop, the same thoughts and emotions every day.
I figured out why.
My mind raced because I was afraid I’d forget. My thoughts and feelings were gold to me. I had discovered valuable life lessons through my processing. I wanted to remember them! So I woke up trying desperately to remember and feel everything. Every day. I was exhausted and felt trapped.
Until I discovered journaling.
I figured, if I wrote down my thoughts and allowed my emotions to burst out onto the page, my daily mind would feel allowed to forget these things. And it worked. I was free and moved on.
Now twenty-some years later, I’m in my mid-40s, and my mind is racing again on a repeating loop. But it’s different this time.
Three years ago I had what some might call a mid-life crisis. I call it a crisis of integrity; I discovered that I wasn’t who I said I was. I had been angry more often than I admitted. I was arrogant, critical of others, and self-promoting. I insisted that I was more valuable than I felt allowed to be. I felt undervalued at work and at home. I said I cared about people and fairness, but I wasn’t involved in my community. I had told myself that I could make an impact as an academic — through teaching my students, changing campus processes for all students’ success, and contributing knowledge through my research. But I couldn’t.
So, I quit my full-time academic job. Yikes.
I took a giant step back, away from the “shoulds” of life – away from obligation, expectations, and proving myself. I dove into self-discovery work. I “broke up” with my status quo life. I found a good therapist, attended retreats, and learned meditation. I slowed down. Way down. I read books, took walks, and picked up a jigsaw habit. I got to know myself deep down in the shadows and the light. I thought, processed, and connected.
And journaled. I journaled through it for sure. So I was free to move on.
Truly, I experienced an awakening. As I reengaged with my community, I did so with more integrity. I do professional work that brings me the most joy – teaching, facilitating, speaking, volunteering, and writing. I’m immersed in my community and try to put authenticity and intention into my choices. And I have kept my slow pace.
The vail of my own self-judgement has lifted. I am a truer version of me. And I’m not done; never done.
This is what I know now. I am a smart and valuable person. I’ve doubted that for too long, far enough down into my subconscious that my conscious brain didn’t even know I held that doubt. My arrogance and anger was the evidence of my deeply held self-doubt. But now I know. Finding that doubt freed me to release it. Now I am certain of my value and don’t feel compelled to prove it to anyone. No validation necessary. It’s just true whether others agree or not. I think creatively and make connections that I don’t see many others making. I have something of value to say.
The 30 essays, they are the lessons, connections, concepts that are not just mine, but mine to share. And they are my contribution to the world, not just the pages of my journals. I feel called, from a humble place inside of me, to share these stories.
What are these essays about? What will this blog be about?
Some are methods, lessons, and stories of self-discovery work.
Some are academic concepts that can be applied to life and current events.
Some are a specific reckoning with ancestors and myself.
Some are about burning life questions.
Most of them explore a middle-place, paradox, and the counter-intuitive. They are…Gray Areas.