I had an experience a little over a week ago that shook me to the core. I think because I’ve been in a really good place lately, feeling incredibly grounded and connected to myself, that I sort of thought I was in the clear of conflict for now (or something crazy like that). I don’t even really know what that means exactly, but I’m pretty sure that was my unconscious mindset. Happy = immunity! Hello, you sneaky ego, you.
I had been meditating for an hour every morning, feeling super at one with nature. So full of joy, almost like I was vibrating—glowing even. It felt like if you saw me walking down the street you might ask yourself if I was on something. Like an I’ll have what she’s having type of situation. I’m not even joking that I often found myself skipping errands. (Get it? Not running errands? OK, bad joke.) It could have very well just been me and my own little idealistic perception of myself, but it sure felt that way. I felt light as a mother f*ckin’ feather.
And then the core-shaking trigger, the unsuspecting emotional landmine. Without going into too much detail, let’s just say that there was an exchange with someone I love deeply, and what I perceived to be (emphasis on perceived) a judgment about my spiritual journey and criticism about some of the choices I had made. Full-of-joy, vibrating, glowing Jamie was not at all prepared for that and kinda sorta imploded to put it gently.
How could anyone feel anything other than pure admiration for my journey? I have come so far and worked so hard, and now this?! BTW, don’t you know that I have been meditating a full hour each morning for SIX WHOLE DAYS straight? Can’t you feel my vibration and see my radiating light? My God, I’m ridiculous. It’s so easy to recognize and make fun of my ego in retrospect, but sometimes in the moment, daaaaamn that sh*t is so real.
For me, the (perceived) judgment from another, especially someone I love and admire, can immediately awaken and fuel my most vicious story: I AM NOT ENOUGH. And I kid you not; it shocked the hell out of me. I haven’t gone to that dark place in a while, and to be honest, I think I thought (is that proper English?) that I had dispelled that nasty lie, at least for the most part. But sure enough, right when I least suspected it—when I was feeling really damn good—it swooped in for a sneak attack and shot me right in the heart (well, head is probably more accurate). It was a screeching halt to my joy and the death to my glow.
Like I said, the details don’t really matter so that’s all I’ll say about that, but the next day sure was a rough one. I woke up feeling almost paralyzed, like I didn’t think I could even face the world. I know that sounds dramatic, but it’s truly how I felt. Thankfully, I have my 100-day commitment to meditate for an hour each morning and immediately spend some time in nature. And since I have $1,000 on the line for that commitment, I begrudgingly got my a$$ up, meditated wildly imperfectly, took a walk around the harbor and set up camp at my fav spot along the water to journal about my experience the day prior. I’m not gonna say that I got complete clarity on everything—I know there are many layers to that conversation—but it did get me out of my head and into my heart, if only temporarily.
I haven’t felt the same since that day, which was just over a week ago. I haven’t been wallowing or purposely holding onto the feeling of not being enough, but I think, like an earthquake, there have definitely been some aftershocks best described as disappointment in myself. I was disappointed that I allowed (my perception of) a few words shake me to the core. I was disappointed that I cared so much about what (I thought) another person thought of me, regardless of who it was. I was disappointed that I held onto it for so long afterward, ironically, even as I was still holding onto it. I was disappointed that I let myself go so low when I was feeling so high, that I “regressed” so abruptly and to such depth. And then I would feel disappointed that I was judging the experience at all, that I couldn’t just see it as another opportunity to grow and that I insisted it meant some sort of lack in me—a sure sign of my “not-enoughness.”
The past week has been more high/low than usual, lots of ups and lots of down, and then I heard something yesterday morning that stopped me in my tracks. I was listening to The Tim Ferriss Show podcast and his guest Adam Robinson (episode #219 and an extremely fascinating man, BTW) quoted Tony Robbins; he said, “Suffering is an excessive focus on yourself.” Woah. Now I know I’ve heard this before, but perhaps I hadn’t heard it when I was suffering or I just wasn’t ready to hear it, but this time, holy sh*t did it go straight to my heart. I felt a weight lifted immediately; that is, immediately after the sharp sting of the realization that I had been incredibly self-centered. I thought, wow—it can be that simple. And I actually think that it can be if we choose to believe it, and act accordingly.
So with a lot of reflection and this new self-inflicted suffering weight lifted, came a flood of lessons to re-learn, severing the final strings attached to my very sad story. Somehow I seem to forget these truths when I need them the most, but perhaps we have to forget sometimes, so that we can remember to remember.
- I am always ENOUGH, perfectly imperfect in every single way. What I do and what is done to me does not determine my worth; we are all just students of the Universe and we are each others’ greatest teachers. Life is a laboratory for growth and awareness, but let us not forget that we were born enough, and that will never change—no matter what.
- What other people think of me is none of my business; what I think of me is all of my business. I have heard this so many times and I still forget it, or perhaps it’s just a lifelong journey. I felt so good that day, and I gave all my power to someone else. While it hurt really freaking badly, I am grateful to have a new reference point for how it feels to abandon myself like that. I broke my own heart that day.
- Like Tony says, “Suffering is an excessive focus on yourself.” Imagine if I had taken a few deep breaths, chosen to not take it personally, and calmly responded with curiosity. How different could that conversation have looked? Imagine if I listened to another perspective—didn’t have to agree with it—and just thought, hmmm… that’s interesting, and went on my merry way on my vibrating cloud of sunshine. Or at the very least, let go of it after my implosion. I had a plethora of opportunities to get out of self and back on my happy train, yet I chose suffering instead.
- Life isn’t always a vibrating cloud of sunshine or trip on the happy train. I am a joy junkie, a lover of all things happy, a delight enthusiast. And when life isn’t any or all of those things, I tend to think something is wrong. I tend to forget that life is hard sometimes, and that it’s OK. In fact, that it’s expected. Today I am really going to start practicing being grateful for the crap days, because crapping on crap doesn’t make the crap go away, it just makes twice as much crap. (Who knew I was so poetic? #onecrapisbetterthantwo #copyrightedmaterial #donteventhinkaboutit)
- Always be prepared, because the ego is a sneaky little sh*t. My ego tends to pounce when I’m in a really good place (or any place, really), so this was a great reminder to always be prepared. Always have that “pause button” shined and on deck when I’m feeling triggered, so that I can stop, drop into my heart and speak from a place of love. The ego is no match for the heart.
And lastly, perhaps one of the most valuable lessons of my life is that the hardest moments are the best teachers; life proves this to me over and over again. While they might knock the wind out of me at the time, I can honestly say that in retrospect, I have immense gratitude for every experience that hurt in one way or another—even, and maybe especially, the super painful ones. A pain-free life is a life lived blindfolded. To me, pain means that I am here, that I am allowing myself to feel. It is just one more opportunity to be aware, and to be grateful for the fact that I am finally AWAKE. My eyes are welling up as I write this—life is so dang good.
So cheers to my fellow blindfold-free feelers. May we choose to lean into discomfort, and to remind each other not to crap on the crap. (Ba-dum-ching!)
Dana Island, where my journal gets journaled and nature heals my heart...
(A friendly passerby called it the "crown jewel" of Dana Point, and I wholeheartedly concur.)