Self as Source

Learning to trust myself has been one of my greatest struggles not only on the pole, but in life in general. I’m not exactly sure when or how it happened, but somewhere along the way I started to ignore that little voice inside of my head that told me that the things that I did and the thoughts that I had held meaning, that they had value. I put the opinions of others on pedestals and shrunk myself down to fit in whatever box society deemed worthy. I wanted to be good. I wanted to be right. I wanted to be accepted.

Looking back I can see that I did that in an attempt to protect myself. It didn’t work though. I am beginning to think that it made the pain worse. Harm still came my way, and I took it. I let it continue to tear me apart for years until one day after coming off of a cocaine-filled bender, I realized that I that I couldn’t do this anymore. I couldn’t continue to numb myself, because all it was doing was making me hate myself.

And then I had a panic attack.

It was in that moment when the voice reappeared. I laid there, my body shaking, tears rolling down my cheeks, and I heard that soft reply reassure me that I would be okay, better even. She told me that I could be happy simply being myself. So I did the only thing that I hadn’t tried before. I believed her.

Intuition some like to call her. I call her me.

I do my best to not to disparage past me, although I will say it’s not always easy. I have regrets. There are things that I wish I had done differently, said differently. There are things I wish I had never done at all. I try not to dwell on those moments too much, as some of them do tend to smart.

And I still fuck it up sometimes. I still make the wrong decisions, say stupid things. I still make mistakes, only now I try not to punish myself so much for them. Forgiving yourself, I have learned, is one of the greatest things you can do for yourself. I wish I had learned to do it sooner.

There is something interesting that happens when you are hanging upside down from a metal pole. You sort of forget how to think. It takes you a minute to distinguish left from right, outside leg from inside leg. And while this used to send me into a panic, something inside of me has learned how to soften that anxiety. I am better at lingering for a little longer in that space between feeling and knowing, in that space that some call intuition.

Mad love, Jenna