Time and Patience

From the Archives

Photo by Andrew J. Kettle

Mental and emotional healing takes time - time and patience. Over the past week, I’ve realized that the ghosts of insecurity and anxiety are still hovering. Yet their essence feels somehow lighter. This is good to notice.

Growth, too, takes time - time and patience. Growth will challenge me, but if it comes at a detriment to my well-being, I need to acknowledge that I am not yet ready for that next step. I need to be intentional in practicing the stillness necessary to hear the whispers that gently guide my growth.

When I sense the insecurities that come with uncertainty and growth, my old friend fear typically steps in. I’m thankful that my relationship with fear has changed - it’s gentler now. I no longer hold my fears in secret shame, and with that comes a sense of freedom.

I’m sharing a piece I crafted last December. As I move through this season, I will stay curious and grow in patience as I continue my healing journey. It’s a good reminder.

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With the Fear

I Jump From the Growing Edge

From the Archives: December 8, 2023

As I once again stand on the growing edge, I look behind me to see the miles of lessons learned. Some are so far away I can barely see them, but their roots are deep and they have become a part of me. Other well intended lessons I leave as smoldering heaps of ash, no longer serving me. And yet still others are newly planted beside me, only now beginning to tenderly bloom, fragile as they take hold. I suspect that they will soon gently crowd the space and push me forward, gentler than the last.

Photo by vahid asadi on Unsplash

As I look beyond the edge to the next unknown place, I can’t see clearly what’s in store for me. A familiar feeling takes hold. One that has held me back far too many times. I hear myself whisper in my own ear the proverbial commands, “Jump! Just do it. No fear. You’ve got this!”

I glimpse again over the edge. The fear only tightens its hold. It is real. It is inside of me. I can literally feel it. My chest tightens. My body feels small. I imagine myself curling up into a ball. Not sure if I will fight, flee, or freeze. But I know that I can’t simply will it away. If I could just do it, “it” would be done.

And then I stop boldly and challenge those old narratives - the rules that were handed down to me. Pausing for just a moment, I consider, “Are these the only options?” But this is all I’ve ever been told and all that I have told others when they seek my sage advice. We say,

“Face your fears.”

                This feels too confrontational. That’s not my spirit. I am kind and gentle.

“Fake it till you make it.”

                Make what? I most likely don’t even want “it.” Whatever “it” is.

“Fake it till you become it.”

                If I have to fake it, it’s not likely who I am or who I am meant to be.

“Fear is just False Evidence Appearing Real.”

                   Oh, but it IS real. I feel it. And it is mine alone.

What if instead, I make my own rules. What if I pause and look Fear directly in her eyes with curiosity instead of paralyzing anxiety? What if I embrace her for a moment and hold her tight with loving appreciation for attempting to keep me safe? What if I then take her by the hand and invite her to go along beside me? What if we learn together that she has very little power unless it is given?

I realize now that Fear may protect me for a moment, but then we can decide together when to jump and travel toward the next growing edge.  

And when I am ready, I will quietly let go, and we part ways.

Until we meet again.