Guilt.

In lieu of a blog, I used to post pretty regularly on Facebook. It was my way of connecting to friends and family I may not otherwise have face-to-face access to, but lately, I hadn’t been posting. Instead, my energy had been dedicated to my healing, focused inward, precisely outlined in journaled letters to myself and talks had with others about their journeys and walks at night with my dog as I cried without really understanding why.

That latter part happened last night.

I was exhausted, and I broke down. I now wonder if sometimes we need to be exhausted in order to break down the protective barriers we put up around ourselves so we can see our truth underneath.

We had just gotten back from a road trip: me, my partner Atreya, his parents who are visiting from India, and our dog, Nettles. I remembered starting to unload the dishwasher. My partner, just as exhausted as I was, was sitting on the stairs and asking which one of us should take Nettles out for a final walk.

My irritation immediately flared. I didn't want to walk. I'd been driving for hours and hours, and all I wanted was rest. But I saw that he looked just as tired as I was, and I didn't want to ask him to do the walking, so I shrugged and said, "Either you can walk him or I can stop putting away the dishes and walk him myself."

(I do this sometimes... I don't directly answer questions, but give the other person the choice, hoping they'll choose what I actually want so I don't have to feel guilty for asking for things. It’s something I’m working on.)

He said I shouldn't do the dishes--clearly seeing how tired I was, too. This wasn't a directive to walk Nettles, just an acknowledgment of a task that wasn't necessary.

I said, "Ok, I'll walk him," frowning, and then moving to put one last pot away.

"Babe, stop, you don't have to do that," he said.

My shoulders scrunched up. I felt my arms tense, my fingers curl and stiffen.

"Just--I know--can you let me just--okay?" I said, teeth gritted, brow knit tight.

To my chagrin, he didn't look surprised or offended, just concerned.

"Okay," he said.

"I'm feeling very irritable, and I'm so so so tired," I said, feeling my insides collapse as I put the pot away.

"I know, it's okay," he said gently, concern still in his eyes.

I put Nettles' harness on, kissed Atreya goodbye, said I loved him, and left.

A few steps later I was in tears.

Why couldn't he just get mad at me? Why couldn't he just be as irritated as I was, say he was tired too, reprimand me, or simply just acknowledge I didn't have to talk to him like that. Why did he have to give me so much space to be... wherever I was? I didn't deserve all that space. I'd been snappy, and he didn't deserve that. But instead of telling me that, his eyes had poured out, "I love you's," and "Take care of yourself's," and I was left to feel guilty for taking up so much damned space.

Earlier for the last hour of the car ride, I'd asked Atreya to drive. While he listened to a podcast, his parents silent in the back seat, I read a book.

I felt guilty for that, too.

How come no one had told me I should be socializing? How come they weren't offended, or felt like I was too isolated or introverted? How come his parents have been here for two weeks now, and I can retreat into my craft room every day and spend hours reading or writing or building my website, and no one ever asks me why I like to spend all that time alone, or demands anything of me I wouldn't freely give?

Where were the critiques? The judgment?

I was crying, shoulders hunched as I plodded forward after my dog, head tilted back. Couldn't someone just judge me once so I could feel some freaking peace already?

(Don't worry, I did indeed recognize the irony of that statement.)

"Ahhhh, the crushing weight of love," I thought as I strode alone, waiting for my dog to poop so I could go sleep. "Isn't love supposed to be a freeing thing?"

"Love can only be freeing if you can let it in," I thought back to myself. "Otherwise it's suffocating."

Maybe letting love in takes a while. Maybe I just need more practice. (I definitely just need more practice.) I'm not used to life being so good. I'm not used to it being so easy, to having so much freaking support and literal unconditional love. I'm not used to being able to buy a beautiful scarf for $68 without having to check my bank account and know I can't buy anything for the rest of the month because I’ve spent my budget. I'm not used to so... much... space.

But I'm trying to get used to it. All I can do is be grateful. Thank the Universe every day for those who are in my corner, showing me over and over and over again that I don't have to do anything to prove I am worthy of love and belonging. That I can be myself day after day, and that is enough.

Every day I'm learning and growing. I still cry a lot, but it's less because of the weight I feel, and more because the distance between my emotions and my acknowledgment of them is less and less. I'm learning to let them bubble up, to sink into them, to hear them speak, and to release them. Whether fear, sadness, or joy... they all create tears, and I'm grateful for letting them flow because it means they are honored, rather than ignored. Those tears are little sacred havens for my inner me to express herself, and so they might be the most important gift I can give.

I hope you know that whoever you are is enough, too. I hope you have even one person in your life who can tell you over and over again that you are loved for exactly who you are. You deserve to believe that. And if you can't believe that right now, that's okay. We all take time to heal.

Maybe we just need to be exhausted enough to allow ourselves to see the wounds (rather than ignore them) so we can finally begin to dress them. 

Now, my mantra is, “I deserve grace. I give myself space.”

Whenever I feel my shoulders grow heavy, I repeat those words, and bit by bit, they lighten. Just a little. Just enough.

What’s your mantra right now?