The other morning, I came face-to-face with an old wound.
My biggest mistake—from four years prior—that I thought was permanently resolved, came back to rear its ugly head. I began to watch my instinctive internal cyclic reaction: blame, shit-talk, critique, hide, lash out, repeat.
It reminded me of a concept in the book The Celestine Prophecy that speaks about conflict dramas—our habitually patterned go-to—when we are attempting to energetically make ourselves feel full. We essentially are prone to reacting either passively or aggressively, and mine is definitely the latter.
This kind of behavior however, is not necessary because all the energy we need to feel full is abundant in the cosmos. Instead of trying to take and grope, all we really have to do is tap into what’s already in front of us, what’s already within us.
Psychologists would label me Type-A: impatient, critical, flighty, and with a craving to control. I find myself often in the grips of unnecessary resistance and struggle. (It’s hard to admit sometimes, but it’s just the damn truth).
I’m a recovering perfectionist. I possess both a strong, fiery appetite for life and a spastic, sometimes ungrounded, fast-moving pace. On the one hand this is the momentum that moves me forward to become a catalyst for change. On the other, it is my inner critic embodied.
When we are so entrenched in the bullsh*t of the mind, we use perfectionism to manipulate life for the purposes of not feeling anything at all. We try to cloak it in a perfectly wrapped gilded little box where everything has order, is safe, and makes sense.
The problem is, it doesn’t. We don’t get to plan everything that happens around us, and sometimes we mess up. Other times, the universe and our higher self throws something our way that was co-created for our highest growth.
Over the last couple of years, I’ve realized that perfectionism is just another façade of fear. It carries us further and further away from authenticity, freedom, and peace that is our birthright.
And the antidote for perfectionism is compassion.
Compassion inherently has a facet of trust. So, on the brink of this silly cycle the other morning, I told myself, “You need to learn to trust.”
I looked up a quote I had in my laptop:
“Once you have your temper tantrum, be grateful that it happened. You have no idea how this situation is going to play out in the scope of your life. You can choose to be a victim to your circumstances or take responsibility for how you choose to perceive them. Have faith that you and the universe have co-created everything for your growth and then choose to be grateful—no matter what. Get practiced at making gratitude your go-to.” ~ Jen Sincero
I still don’t know how it’ll work out in the end, but if there’s one thing yoga has taught me, it’s that I shouldn’t cling to anything. It’s all in flux.
So instead of creating resistance to what already is—which, by the way, is kind of nuts—I’m learning to surrender. I’m daring to unlatch my heart.
I was recently listening to Michael Singer’s Untethered Soul on audiobook and one concept struck a strong chord within me: stay open and do not close, no matter what. He calls the mind “the place the soul goes to hide from the heart.”
My perfectionistic self refuses to be vulnerable and admit that I could have made a mistake this massive. My soul says I’m perfect in this moment, exactly the way that I am.
You don’t jump for the landing, you jump for the moments in the air because you cannot predict the landing. ~ Brené Brown
So, let’s enjoy the damn ride.
The entire spectrum of experience is inviting us to grow. Beyond that, no mistake, no debt, no relationship, no amount of money, no job, no car, nothing can take away from my true essence, my deepest seed. It doesn’t change yours either.
So, open your heart. Don’t let it close. Surrender in and move through.
Author: Morgan Rhodes
Image: Author’s own/Instagram
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