Pretty consistently each month, I have what I refer to as my nothing day. Nothing is funny. Nothing seems easy. Nothing feels true.
This dreaded plateau of numb used to feel like a weight added to my shoulders for no apparent reason other than hormones. But then I read The Red Tent, a book that completely changed my perspective. Not only on being a mother, but on being a woman, sisterhood, and creation itself.
I now see my nothing day as a signal reminding me to tune in with my body, and its request to slow down and be. It’s a chance for reflection and checking in with where I’m feeling led on my spiritual path. Anything that bugs or upsets me is brought to the surface, offering a chance to ask for what I need and be open to receiving it.
A few days ago, I was in the thick of it. I sent an email to my coach.
J has been having a series of really hard days. Lots of strong emotions, and I am doing my best to stay present for him. But today is rough. I’m feeling less and less grounded. The nothing is rolling in.
The tantrums and screaming have turned my nerves raw. My ears are bleeding.
Nothing I say is good enough. Nothing I do is good enough.
A crossed the street on her bike today without stopping to look for cars. I was in the middle of it with J, and she must have felt ignored. It doesn’t matter that we’ve stressed the rules nearly every other time we get to a street crossing. I missed it this time, and she got my attention. Not the kind she was looking for.
I can’t split myself in two. I feel completely inadequate, useless, and alone.
That night I gave us all a little space, let him skip bath, and cuddled a little longer. I told them both how precious and good they are, even though I wasn’t in that state of being about these things for myself.
Talking over a late dinner with my husband, I let him remind me in his own way that I am: both precious, and good.
I left dishes in the sink and took a hot shower. I lit a candle and got in bed. Sitting in the silence, I heard the wisest part of me whisper Go to sleep. All will be clearer in the morning.
The next morning I had what I needed. Perspective.
When I answered my body’s call to rest, I felt renewed. When I gave my spirit permission to be vulnerable with all I was feeling, I was reminded of all that I already know.
I am enough. I forget this sometimes, and forgive myself for that.
I am full of purpose. I am breathing. I am awake. I am.
I am held. I’m always supported even when I’m not aware of it.
Shrinking’s more tempting when we stay up in our heads. I’ve long been over having a small life lived from up inside there, but sometimes in the nothing, I forget. Hard to have perspective in that place.
Perspective is why I’ll always have a coach. Someone who’s sole purpose for asking me questions is to get me out of the groove I’ve created around a topic and keep me moving towards the highest expression of who I’m meant to be. The states of being I want to live from feel more accessible when I’m centered and anchored from the heart.
Of course the men in our lives are important too, but women offer a different source of energy. We can nurture each other, even and especially when we forget to nurture ourselves. As women, we need others who support and care about our expansion, and point us toward the spiritual red tent.
A place of nurturing we can tap into inside ourselves, our source of creation. Where we can go to renew. Where we connect to our own abundance. That’s the red tent. There. Where we make something precious and good out of nothing.
Now, aren’t you something. ♥
Your turn: What part of being a woman helps you along your spiritual journey? Please share in the comments below.