I lost my shit this week. A number of times. And last week too, more than once. I am at the end of my rope with living so far away from all my gigs, my band, my friends and family, my yoga sangha, the ocean, my sacred forest, all the things that keep me sane and happy (apart from my mazing man of course – but believe me, I am way too much work for just one mere mortal, this girl is high maintenance).
I’m sick of driving, living out of a car, burning fossil fuels and hurtling my body through time and space to the point of exhaustion. They say it’s the journey not the destination that’s important, well that’s lucky because I seem to be on a never-ending journey with a constantly elongating endpoint. Running to stand still. Remembering that the real journey is within, and the rest is just scenery.
In the last 6 months since moving south and into a serious relationship, my yoga practice has dwindled to nothing, I’ve stopped meditating and journalling, and my eating and exercise regime has taken a huge U-turn. Important to note, I’ve put on weight and felt myself moving towards and old familiar feeling of depression, tearing up easily, feeling futile and missing my magical spark. It’s time to dig deep into my Mary Poppins carpet bag and take a magical carpet ride back to planet Claire.
I’ve kinda always wanted to run, to be super-fit and be able to slaughter any distance with my long lady legs. So last week I started with three runs and this week I’m already up to two on day two. It seems that positive action has a snowball effect, because I’ve found that when I’ve arrived home from a run, I’ve rolled out my yoga mat and started stretching, and then sunk into an effortless meditation. I’ve also started craving healthier foods and skipping meals that my body doesn’t need, rather than using food to fill the void left as my spiritual practices have fallen away. This morning I journaled again after helping get the boys off to school and the man off to work.
Leaving me home alone with a long to-do list that can wait while I do the thing I most want to do: turn off my phone and write this blog. Because that’s what my soul is crying out for. The rest is really just admin. I need to free my mind, and let the rest follow.
So here are my five reasons why falling to pieces can be a good thing:
1. Falling to pieces forces you to let go of anything that is not serving you. In your weakened state, let all the BS roll off you and focus on the things that really matter. Love. Peace. Unity. Survival. Break down and break through the barriers that are standing between you and your true purpose, your true self.
2. Losing your shit forces you to reassess where you are at and make choices that will serve your happiness, even if they are difficult. Treat a life challenge as an invitation to step up, to commit to doing the things that you deeply know will nurture your growth and fulfilment. A glimpse of the dark side is a good reminder to keep moving towards the light.
3. Falling to pieces reminds you to be humble and respect the greater powers that be. We can’t be in control of everything, even our own lives. Life challenges stick God in your face and force you to accept the fact that there is a bigger plan going on beyond yours. Nurture strength of body, mind and spirit to draw upon in the hard times. We might not always get what we want, but I daresay we nearly always get what we need. Practice trust and patience. This doesn’t mean letting go of your dreams and goals, it means putting them out there, doing your best, and letting God/the Universe take care of the rest.
4. Tough times give you fuel to create from a deeper well of experience. Feel the full range of your emotions and harness them into creative power. Turn your anger into music or painting, your feelings of futility into a what-the-hell walk down a random forest path where you might encounter a magical beast or a fortune-telling gypsy; turn your desperation into a daring step towards a daunting dream, your hopelessness into tiny glimmer of beautiful hope. Turn your broken dream into compost and plant a new one in its deeply nourishing soil.
5. Falling to pieces is a good time to reach out for some help. Phone a friend, see a counsellor or healer, get a massage, go to a yoga class, read a helpful blog or book, sign up for a course or pull some angel cards. You’re not alone, we’re all in this crazy circus together. Find your community, let yourself be supported. Be honest, be yourself. You are loved. You are enough. Even in your beat-up, disheveled, allovertheplace all-time low of suckiness, you are still awesome.
Falling to pieces can be a good thing. Hang in there old pal. Sometimes the shit days turn out to be the best ones. Watch out for rainbows and angels in disguise. Thanks to all the good peeps who’ve helped me through this week, and all the weeks. Life is beautiful and reborn in a heartbeat.