This has become a space in which I’m often coming to post rare and infrequent writings, sometimes personal, sometimes reflective, usually academic. Today’s post is aligning more with the personal.
Wednesday was my 39th solar return and I’ve had a whirlwind of a year to reflect upon. The biggest event for me was moving my family of four cross-country for my new job. A job which feels like coming home but also like filling impossibly big shoes.
As of late, I’ve been thinking about my snake tattoo, one that I got right before my move to California. Its symbolism for me has been one of transformation – the shedding of skin and the rebirth of self. Getting tattooed has become a deep and moving experience each time for me. It is my body and it tells a story. Our bodies hold space for us. It embodies our culture, trauma and joy. It carries us, sees us through sickness and forms our identity. Its mass is visible and often the recipient of judgement, pride and sometimes hatred merely because of its color or size. And yet it’s these markings, blemishes, and scars that also carry a history of love and experience. It is our skin, our consciousness, our womb. Over the years, I have learned to love my body and mind and to infuse it with the abundance that is reflective in how I want to love others.
But coping with the pandemic amidst a life changing move and trying to settle in and get to know my new home and environment has left me, dare I say it, a little lost. Among all the invisible work it takes to plan such a move was the anxiety with getting Covid, grieving the death of my good friend just a year before the pandemic hit and then losing my best friend after the move. How did I ever manage all this before my move to the west coast? The answer was the trauma response of burying myself into work and volunteering. To add, I relied heavily on my social network of trusted friends, family and colleagues. Prior to California, you could find me “dinnering” with friends and off-loading the stressors of work and mom-life. My research work kept me busy with deadlines and participant interviews. But when covid hit, all these things sort of died in the water. It took some time to get back into the swing of things once we had moved, and even then, it had to pivot into new workflows that have forever changed the way we do work. To this day, I have only been on campus a handful of times.
All that’s to say – life is so different now. Understatement of the year, right? And it’s only February 2021. Some days, I crave the feeling of being alone. With two kids in tow and everyone zooming from home, private time can be eluding. Reading books and painting have been regulated to late night or super early morning self-care routines. Carving out time to find peace and solitude have been key to my mental health, especially with so many on and off again lock-downs. And yet, even with the positive attitude towards creating a space for just myself, from time to time, loneliness creeps in, when mattering to others, irrespective of whether one is in a relationship or alone gives a sense of connectedness. And so I think part of my path in this world is to be a healer through friendship and empathy. To share my own vulnerability so that others might know they are not alone.
I’ve been lucky enough to be self-aware. It’s what therapy and being able to reach out to my social network has allowed me. But I can’t argue about the bouts of loneliness I’ve experienced since moving. While I believe it’s both natural and a part of my building a new tribe here, it’s made infinitely more difficult because of the state of the world. Journaling has been an unexpected godsend. I hadn’t realized how helpful it was to work through emotions and expectations about myself. Through writing, therapy, and my research work, I’ve learned there are things I want to explore and take a deep dive towards.
More than ever, my anthropology work seems kismet. While I will always feel I have a home with my NY family and friends, I’m slowly finding friends who support this new authentic side of me that’s been emerging here. It’s ironic in a way when I think of my friends in NY who have stayed by my side. I’ve known many of them since before I got married and had kids so in some ways I feel like this “me” emerging in California is closer to the version they knew before #adulting took over. That’s all to say, in my 39 years, I feel like a soul resonating on its true spiritual journey. And I’m slowly gaining the courage to live life accepting that being misunderstood is part and parcel with the work towards self-love. Experiencing rejection and pain has motivated me to take bigger risks. I know there will be mistakes, that I will unintentionally hurt others and I will be hurt as well. In the end, compassion and empathy will move us forward.
I’m often reminded by the Nietzsche quote: “The individual has always had to struggle to keep from being overwhelmed by the tribe. If you try it, you will be lonely often, and sometimes frightened. But no price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning yourself.”
At the beginning of 2020, I was a completely different person. Only a year ago, but less emotionally strong and unaware of what the year would bring. The last decade I lost many parts of myself, including beautiful people who graced me with their friendship and love. I lost them to sickness, to growing apart, to death. At the same time I managed to gain immense insight, advice, kindness and love from my friends who remained in my life.
I learned more about myself in the last year than in the last decade. I realized that the loss of my mother in my 20s remained a pivotal moment of abandonment that never went away, and I dealt with it by giving myself more to others than to caring for myself. I gave myself to working hard, being too available, and volunteering too much. And I lost a little of myself to motherhood, wifehood, and conventionality. Halfway through the year, I was running on empty like so many others.
I have re-discovered the light that used to shine through me. My friends and family helped me along the way, always continuing to believe in me, even when I doubted myself. I began crafting a vision of myself that was happier, healthier and bright; I started running, drawing, getting therapy, and eating better. I was given an invitation from the universe to nurture myself and I wasn’t passing by it this time. I learned to forgive myself.
This brings me back to my tattoos and the last one I received in 2020 was an art nouveau inspired take of the Strength Tarot card. I transitioned from snake to lion and came into my own. It is with this notion of fortitude and authenticity which I hope pushes me further within my strength as I prepare for another cycle around the sun.
I hope 2021 continues to manifests forgiveness, acceptance, and moving forward. I hope everyone can listen to one another, be kind, and lead with empathy. I welcome all who are going through transition, transformation and are feeling pain and loss, and who are ready to lead fuller lives filled with intention and care. I am here for you and YOU ARE ENOUGH.
ontheshelves 