By Lisa Meade
I think it is fair to say that I am exhausted.
You know, down to the bone, cannot lift your head off the pillow when the alarm goes off, sling your body through the day, look at the clock at noon and think to yourself, “Really, still another half of the day left?” kind of exhausted.
I won’t bore you with the details, there are too many to mention and too depleting to review—but I am exhausted! The past six months have nearly broken me.
I have found that within my exhaustion it is challenging to find peace, to find joy and to connect to my soul. Yet, if I don’t, then what? What waits on the other side of that question is depression, withdrawal, apathy and a black hole that I long ago climbed out of barely by my fingertips, bruised ego, shattered heart and all. Isn’t it amazing how when you absolutely and positively believe you have nothing left to bring to the table of life, somehow you do? That is how it has been for a while now.
And so what does that tell me?
I am far stronger and much more resilient than I give myself credit for. But, also, that the years of practice and connection to my spiritual side serves me in a way that I am sometimes too beaten to be aware of.
Even on those days of overwhelm, even in those moments of deep tiredness, I find myself calling out to my spiritual guides for support. I find myself stepping outside onto the earth and breathing away the negative energies for her to hold for me. I find myself making time for a few moments of just being…not doing.
And then there is the practice of staying present. I have learned over the years that projecting my feelings onto what the future holds or clinging to what the past put me through is not the story of my now. I have often surprised myself in these past months of life’s challenges and lessons, that I stay firmly present in the now.
I remind myself, that this will pass, that this is not forever and that I will look back on these months and review the lessons and embrace the gifts. I will hold myself in a compassionate embrace and allow my humanness to have a free pass. I will value all the hard work, I will mourn the losses.
I will cherish the scattered moments of peace and remember the soothing balm that they brought to my day.
I will remind myself that it was within my deep connection to my spiritual practice that I made it. Maybe I wasn’t as graceful as I would like to believe I could be, or as soft spoken, put together or sacred. But, damn it, I made it and as I brush off the dust, wipe away the tear and collapse into my favorite chair I need to acknowledge that in my imperfection as a human, my soul perfectly rose to the occasion and pulled me into what I know will keep me whole and sane.
I may be exhausted, but I know where to go within myself to keep my fires lit.