Our mantra ended up being: Be F*cking Amazing!
And we were.
Last night, as a true testament to my retreat, about ten people from the retreat came to my yoga class. They hadn't seen each other in less than 24 hours and couldn't bear to be apart.
After class, we all went out to eat and it truly was the most inspiring group dinner I have ever had the pleasure of being part of in my whole life.
I came home to the email below, which was sent to two other people. It was brave and it broke me. I was so touched by it.
With permission, I am sharing. My request is that although the name remains anonymous, you comment below and let this person know that they are not alone in this. Not now.
Here is the email:
So I came home and cried tonight.
I went to one of the best yoga classes I have ever taken...surrounded by all of my new, fucking amazing friends. There was laughter, there was connection, there was love. It was truly a magical moment in time that I wanted to hold onto forever.
But at dinner afterwards, everyone started opening up about their feelings, and their struggles, and their experiences. It was so incredibly touching to see people who were strangers three days ago sharing their hearts. And, yet again, I couldn't do the same. I couldn't say "I've been there too", or "My family is broken as well," or "I've lost people I loved." Even though all are true. I couldn't open up.
I don't know how.
I don't know how to be vulnerable.
I don't know how to tell people when they hurt my feelings.
I don't know how to ask for help.
I don't know how to not take everything so seriously.
I don't know how to receive love.
I don't know how to not be the person I have been for the last 34 years.
Where do I even start?
Do I admit that I'm scared all the time? Of being alone, of not being accepted, of failure? Or that I can't stop criticizing myself--when I look in the mirror, when I can't do a yoga pose, when I don't bring in that extra page of business? Or that I don't think my family will ever really heal from everything we've gone through?
What happens if I start saying these things out loud?
I really don't know. But I want to. I don't want to be the one on the outside looking in. The one who can't truly connect past the surface level. The one who won't let herself cry in front of other people.
I don't want to be that person.
Maybe by telling three people, I will start to not be her.
So I ask you this. What happens when you admit out loud that you are scared all the time and all the other questions that were posed in this email?
Just watch the outpouring of love and support.
Post your comment below.