Meeting Ourselves Exactly Where We are At - Archived Post

Meeting Ourselves Exactly Where We are At - Originally Posted on 1/20/13

Readers: I thought it helpful to re-post this blog from 1 year ago:

Today is Sunday, January Twentieth. One month ago, on Thursday night, December Twentieth, I encountered the unexpected; an event that left me repeatedly saying, over the last month, "This was not supposed to happen." At ten at night, after leaving a fabulous film event at the local art movie house, I was hit by a car while crossing the pedestrian crosswalk on a side street in downtown Stamford, Connecticut, where I live. Though I don't recall this next part, as our brains have beautiful ways of protecting us, my body flew into and cracked the driver's windshield. I was taken to the trauma center at Stamford Hospital and was there from Thursday night till Saturday afternoon. Since then, I have been healing myself at home and finally venturing out once more into the world and my life.

I'm not sure where I want to go with this post. It still feels tender to write about, and even though I've spoken about it many times in retelling it to friends, I feel protective of myself in sharing it out loud. Those of you who follow my blog know that I typically offer up scenes from my personal journey in hopes it can make a difference for someone who reads it. In my counseling practice, I do the same at certain moments; share a piece of my scrapbook, struggles, insights, pain and breakthroughs so that I become more identifiable and less unreachable for those trying to heal their own lives. So this is new; this feeling of wanting to shield myself from the world at large. This is 'Meeting Myself Where I'm At.'

This past month has been filled with just that. When I'm not loving my body because it feels limiting; when I'm not loving myself because I'm terribly scared, anxious or vulnerable; when I'm not loving the moment because it feels constricted; when I'm not loving this new place I'm in because I'm longing for the old Hope, I am learning to meet myself exactly where I'm at, without judgement.

The old Hope was ecstatically happy the day this happened. I was grateful for every millimeter of my life. I had a clear understanding and huge appreciation for all the steps that had brought me to that point; I was in love with even the worst and most arduous and difficult parts of my journey, and I understood how each piece had played out exactly as it did in order to bring me to the wisdom and peace I held at that moment on that day. Then this event happened, and what I am left with is this: All my years of meditation, breathwork, therapy, yoga, chakra balancing, emoting, evolving and deep spiritual connection were merely practice for this moment of meeting myself where I'm at.

During the physical and emotional pain that I experienced, I could barely access my divine connection. Theoretically, I knew it was there. I even understood the larger context of this event, or at least that there is a larger context. But day-to-day, through sleepless nights and slow-moving days, the only thing I could do when I couldn't even access deep breathing was meet myself exactly where I was at. "Here you are, Hope. You're feeling this, now you're feeling this, and now this. Can you love yourself through all those feelings? Can you love yourself and let yourself be loved when your mojo has disappeared? Can you love yourself when all the things that define you seem to hang in the balance?" I had to learn, and I'm still learning.

A dear friend said to me, "Hope, you came here with a purpose, and that cannot be taken away."

The biggest battle we fight in life is the one with ourselves. I see this most often in counseling the most magnificent people who suffer with eating disorder. The layers of shame, self-blame and lack of forgiveness astound me. The infinite resources for self-punishment break my heart. When I have the opportunity at those moments, I remind my clients what gifts they are, and to see what would happen if they turn this blame into self-love; instant healing. 

Now it is my turn to let go of who Hope was on December Twentieth and embrace who Hope is now, on January Twentieth; still me, and still here with a purpose.