Hold Your Story Sacred (‘Cause Leaking All Over the Place Really Isn’t Helpful)

Hold Your Story Sacred (‘Cause Leaking All Over the Place Really Isn’t Helpful)

I learned something while leading the Witch Camp retreat last weekend.

Maybe learned is the wrong word; languaged may be better…

‘Cause I’ve been learning this for a long, painful time.

Self-contained: making a container of the self. I’d never been particularly good at that.

When something bad happened, I’d reach for the phone, telling my story over and over to whoever would listen.

But a decade ago something odd started to happen:

I’d chain-dial, friend after friend, working down the list… and each call would go to voicemail. When no one picked up, I would run to Facebook and spill my emotions over hundreds of “friends” who would in turn ignite, exacerbate or offer platitudes. Which makes perfect sense; they didn’t know me, so all they saw was a reflection of themselves.

Fate, serendipity, coincidence? Whatever it was left me no choice: I had to begin to hold my own feelings, to become a container for rage and grief, sadness and joy. And as I learned to hold my own story, to honor the feelings moving moving through my soul, I found I no longer needed someone else to pick up the phone and corroborate it.

As I learned to cradle my hurts and angers, I felt something within come into balance, like I’d plugged an energy leak that’d been seeping for decades.

What am I telling you?

Feel your feelings. Feel them. See how they move through your gut and your liver, scratch at your heart and claw at the backs of your eyeballs. Rage and cry and moan. Laugh and sing. Becoming a container doesn’t mean you should shut it down. Holding your story sacred is not the same as stuffing it or suffering in silence.

Let emotion expand you, let it be a deep belly breath that makes you wiser and more compassionate, that fills you, then empties you.

When I allow this process to move through me, there’s a release at the end. A letting go that feels more complete than the brain-on-a-hamster wheel feeling I got from sharing with seventeen friends. A stillness, a quietude.

I wish this for you.

25 women (myself included) who work at the juncture of spirit and wellness are sharing their stories as well as tips to help you wholly live yours. Join us here.

And as we move through these times, loud with pain and opinion, hold your story sacred so when you choose your words and actions, they come from the stillness of your heart.

Hugs—

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