I feel like I’ve been living quasi-authentically.

Certainly more so than before, but there’s still so much in here that I don’t allow out. It’s very curated. I don’t like to be messy. Which is why I hold onto stuff until I can get it “figured out” on my own and not bring anyone else into this dumpster fire.

There is a very broken part of me that believes that I shouldn’t be myself if I ever hope for someone to love me. I think there’s a bigger part of me that knows that isn’t true and that’s where the suffering is coming from. I want to operate from this very real authentic place but I have too much old patterning in the way. Internal resistance.

It’s fascinating how painful this wound is. I remember encountering this during the first weekend intensive almost 2 years ago.

This work is SO uncomfortable. I’m shocked that breathing someone can give me the same effects as breathing myself. Deep down I am happy to have had this experience and encountered this “thing” because I know this is the first step to a positive shift and acceptance. But right now it feels very not good.

I don’t want to distract myself. Now that I’m here, I want to feel this thing for all it’s worth and move past it. But that’s also not how it works. I’m going to have to keep coming in contact with this until making the authentic choice becomes second nature. But, what’s happening now, the awareness, is usually the hardest part, so that’s nice that I’m already here. And surviving!

I make such a big deal about this stuff. Like I’m the only one in the world dealing with it or feeling that way. I’m so melodramatic and it’s hilarious. It’s nice to learn how to laugh at and love these parts of me that I find so frustrating. This is definitely generational trauma — I know for a fact that both of my parents suffered from this.

Just a lady (she/her) who thought she knew what she was doing, only to find she hadn’t even scratched the surface.