Heart Reader … Day 1
Oh my goodness. I can’t believe I am making this commitment to myself. It’s not even 3am and my heart is telling me I have to get out of bed to start — cripes I couldn’t even get two sentences in and, even at this hour, got interrupted by the dog barfing in her bed —writing to myself. To be more specific, I need to listen to my heart speak to me every day until I have heard all it has to say to me.
I’m not sure if I should interpret this let alone how I would interpret this idea, this mandate, even if that were the goal. It feels a bit liberating to let go of the iron fisted grip I have on my sense of self (didn’t want to write that word, don’t want to believe I’m an anal retentive control freak).
So I get my hand back on my heart, breathing for a moment here. There is a lot of sadness. I’m not sure I’m up for this. Me, who told a lovely life coach of sorts I’d met at an online women’s conference that my superpower is sadness (as opposed to anger which is what she hears most often of her clients).
I want to go back to bed but I’ll listen for another minute.
Apparently resistance is good, an acknowledgement of humility. I don’t have all the answers, but they aren’t as far away as I might fear.
I’m fighting hopefulness, I am feeling physical pain in my heart, I am literally pouting at this screen like a dejected child who wants to quit trying, tired of trying to prove herself and still being a child.
