This Is Just Me

After teaching her Yoga class, one of my best friends noticed that her period ran through her cute little yoga pants and left a stain.  Immediately she was embarrassed and felt shame knowing that others must have saw what she had just now discovered.

I’m sure, that if you are a woman reading this, you’ve been there before.

I know I have.

For me it was a couple years ago, in a yoga class as well–one with a million downward facing dogs where, of course, my fellow yogis behind me got a perfect view of the state of Georgia that my excess menses left stained across my behind.

Now, maybe this is the place where you’re thinking of that email you want to write me–consoling me that it’s all ok–nobody probably noticed… it’s only natural…these things happen.  Right?

Yes, I get that.  And so did my sweet friend.

The thing I want to bring to light is why?

Why do we immediately feel embarrassed and ashamed just for something our bodies as women naturally do–like breathing or mitosis.

Ok, wait.  I don’t really think the why is that important.  I could come up with loads of reasons why–from what society and media tells us about being women to those out-dated pamphlets they give you in fifth grade.

What I want to focus on is shame.  How much shame we carry with us.  It’s ridiculous.

Well, I’m not going to say ‘we” or “us”–I don’t know what you carry, to be honest.  But I do know that I carry a shit-load of shame.

This past year I have gone through absolute hell.  And because of that, many things in my business and life have fallen apart pretty epically.  We’re talking finances, friendships, my body, my home–you name it–somewhere in the heap of it all you’ll find where things have just crashed and shattered and burned.

And for months and months and months I’ve been trying to keep it altogether–or more like give the impression that I’m keeping it altogether.

But you wanna know a little secret?   I haven’t.

And just for that little fact alone, I carry great shame.  Shame that somehow I’m not perfect–I’m not the teacher I should be–or the person I say I am–or the this or that or a gatrillion other things my monkey mind finds to throw at me.

And guess what–I’m done with it.

Do you hear me?

I’m FUCKING done with it.

I’ve messed up.  I’ve failed big time.  I’ve done things that once work–that no longer do–and I don’t have a clue on how to make it better. I’ve gained sixty pounds.  I’ve chosen Ben and Jerry’s over salad for dinner.  I’ve spent whole weekends watching Cosby Show marathons instead of going outside to exercise.  I’ve not said I’m sorry when I know I should have.

Last year this time I had a savings of $22000 and now I have $200.

My home is a mess.  My heart feels like it’s covered in stitches.  My son sometimes wears clothes that are a little too small.  I drive my car long distances on E.  My marriage is far from ideal.

I don’t have it together.

I don’t have a business plan.  I have no five year goals.

I don’t know what we’ll eat for breakfast, lunch, or dinner.  Ever.  Ever.

I was late on my bills this month and last month and the month before.

I ALWAYS forget where I put my keys.

I hate Facebook but I still don’t have the courage to delete my account yet–and that’s what I feel shame about(!).

I want to be a writer one day–and a farmer the next.

I don’t know if I’m coming or going–like my Mother would say.

And I’m taking the time to celebrate all of this.

Because this is what makes me-me.  This stuff.  This stuff that I feel so much shame about–because it’s concrete proof that I don’t have it altogether.  But I’m letting go of shame and embracing completely that I’m LEARNING–and I’m not hiding under some rock in Sedona–but rather making my way through the landscape the best way that I can.

I’m deciding right now that all of this is concrete proof that I am beautiful.  Yes! Yes! Yes!! That these flaws–these things that somewhere in my past I was told were wrong with me–are the sparkle in my step–the glimmer behind my personality–the fibers of my big BIG heart that was born to shine brightly.

I’m ok with not being an expert.  I’m ok with having you never ever purchase a damn thing from me because I finally shared that I truly don’t know how to make your life better.

But what I do know, and I can say with great confidence, is about being brave and honest.

And I’m starting to learn about letting go of shame…because the previous and the latter don’t go together.

I got things to say that don’t go along with the pristine, shiny illusions we’re being forced fed on the internet…or don’t fit into what is appropriate to do as a “business” or post on Instagram…but they’re true–at least to me they are as true as can be.   And I want to say them–so that amazing women, like the blessed women that came to my Total Alignment last weekend, can start to let go of their own shame as well.

That we can allow our bodies to bleed.  That we can release the burden of having to be perfect all the goddamnfucking time.  That we can be women with emotions–that we can feel anger, jealousy, rage, and lust–and not have to suppress them–but express them with the divine feminine energy that radiates inside us like an ancient fire.

It’s time that someone finally says that we can do LESS–have LESS–be LESS–instead of following some rat race that others are trying to convince us is called “success”.

That we can have breathing room around the mistakes we make in our relationships with one another–so maybe forgiveness can begin to flow in–instead of neglect and abandonment and more hurt.

So that we as women can feel good FANTASTIC about ourselves–ALL of ourselves–including those parts that sag and wrinkle and leak and don’t work the way they used to–and the parts that are afraid and just want to be held and nurtured and respected and LOVED! LOVED! LOVED!!

That we can start having real conversations about divine feminine energy–and together start to gently cut the cords and chains that our mothers, grandmothers, and mothers and mothers before them have suffocated from.

That we can live a life without shame.  That our mistakes can be cradled close to our hearts as gifts from a Universe that is working with us…that our bodies can be honored for the life they create in each moment….even when they feel like they are failing us from disease, old age, or our own self hate.

This is me naked.  This is me starting over.

This is the post I’m writing that launches a brand new Dirty Footprints Studio.

One that I don’t have a business plan for, a mission statement behind, or enough money in the bank to purchase a fancy website and have a blog hop over.

This is just me being honest.  With no one else, but myself.