Things I learned in the year of shedding

the year of snake

1, It’s okay to feel like you don’t belong. With all my attempts to be a part of a community, I realized that it just doesn’t work that way. It seems like no matter how hard I try, nothing reaches my innermost heart. I’ve also tried to find the reason for that so I can “fix” myself, but it didn’t sit right in my soul. I come to radical acceptance and honor the fact that I genuinely do not feel a sense of belonging here where I live and that’s totally, perfectly okay! It’s crucial to acknowledge that because only then I allow myself to feel into the direction my heart pulls me toward.

2, Most people on social media I’ve seen and many teachers that I admire channel their passion very fiercely. Through their voice, their gestures, and their opinions. But for so long I thought there was something wrong with me when I couldn't sustain or even ignite that same kind of fire. I’ve seen lots of advices and teachings about that too, encouraging us to exist loudly and confidently. That’s beautiful and I love that for them. Some people feel genuinely authentic. You can sense that this is who they truly are at the core. But some feel quite performative. Well, I’ve been there done that too :) Anyone who’s gone through that knows it is a phase. Shedding for me means that I come to trust my own unique way to express my passion, trust in my quiet confidence, trust in what feels most aligned with my heart and soul. Trust that I move in a different way, with weight and depth, and it’s totally valid. Trust my timing when I build with the pace of the earth, because I intend to lay a strong foundation for a long time to come.

3, There was a period of time that I couldn’t share what made my heart sing with other people. If I told someone I love to read and write and listen to music, I was really afraid they would asked me what kind of books or songs that I liked. The moment I told them about my immense love for the language that they don’t even understand, it’s a guarantee that the conversation will turn into a dead end, because now we no longer have anything in common, or at least, it happens that way in my trembling heart and fragile mind. I still remember very vividly the quiet night I forced myself to release that identity, I felt a part of myself died in reluctance. But now, after half a decade, I dare to reclaim what I had buried so deep that it turned my moist, rich, fertile emotional world into a dull, lifeless, forgotten land. Simultaneously acknowledging that, while I would love for the sentimental nostalgia to stay exactly the way they once were, I want to also nurture my deep love for language so it grows and evolve with me too.

4, Because now, it comes to this point. First and foremost, before everything started and after everything has shed, there’s only one unshakable truth: I am a writer.

5, Friendships are very precious to me and deeply nourishing to my soul, despite many attempts to convince myself that I don’t need them. I adore all of my friends and appreciate them 10 times more because I don’t get to see them daily. I really enjoy my own company and am totally okay doing everything alone by myself, but every time I’m with them or talking to them I’m surprised by how much my heart craves genuine supportive connections. I also very frequently love to muse about the moments and memories we had. I learned that it’s okay to need someone, allowing myself to be soothed by another presence by my side, instead of always trying to deal with difficult emotions alone (this, I’m very good at). I switch off my defense mechanism immediately when I recall a cherished sentiment to a time that is long gone except for our friendship, and it softens me more than I’m willing to be.

6, Deconditioning my beliefs and practices of the last few years: I realized that I don’t need to alchemize, figure things out, fix the problem immediately the moment I see it arise. Well, what am I trying to prove and who am I proving it for by the way? Sometimes the best thing I can do is create space for myself to throw tantrum, to feel disgust and rage, to let the trigger and bitterness and pity sting me until the poison spreads all over my veins. Instead of intellectualizing the experience, I give myself time and compassion to somatically work with it through my body and turn that into the wisdom, embodied. 

7, As much as I love and value astrology, gene keys, and human design, my self-contradiction revealed to me the fact that I don’t like bringing that to every conversation. It’s fun to know someone’s profile, but we are so much more than that. Maybe it’s because I didn’t come from there. To me every system is a great tool to help deepen self-knowledge and relationship with our soul, but it’s not meant to dictate everything or be placed in a center. They can serve as a mirror, a reflection, but if we depend too much on that, it’s just like another external system that tells us who we are and what we should do. The shedding is to return to the vastness before I took these systems in, so I can have a healthy relationship with them again. Who was I before the healing / spiritual journey? Who am I if I’m not my wound?

8, Making space for rest and joy is the fastest way to allow and welcome vitality and abundance in in its all forms. The way life taught me is through burnout, health issues, shining the light on my control tendency until I couldn’t anymore. We only surrender when it reaches our limits. But somehow, that moment of mere hopelessness is the exact moment our heart opens to let the magic back in. 

9, Sometimes resistance and obstacles are not meant to hinder us on our paths, but to redirect us to a different route. I’m so used to pain and struggle and hardship. It’s time to invite the ease and flow and a sense of aliveness into my life.

10, I’m not a very cheerful or bubbly person. Many times I forced myself to be talkative or excited because if not, I don’t feel I’m good enough. But everyone who knows me knows that I’m a softie at heart and I’m very invested in real conversation. It touches me deeply one time a friend of mine told me that I don’t need to pretend to be anything other than my is-ness. Just speak from the heart. Smile genuinely. Act from the authentic place. Be open but know that only those who are meant to be in my life will stay. 

11, Returning to the core of my being means to unearth the tenderness that I had long suppressed, open my arms to hold it close to my chest, and embrace fully, wholly all that I am. If any parts still feel shameful or afraid of judgement, I will show them true love until the shame and judgmental voice return to their true form: an innocent child with a heart of gold and an eyes full of wonder.

12, When I radically accept myself, I sense the shift moving very softly inside me. Maybe I wasn’t actually afraid of being seen; I was just afraid of what I picked up about what it means to be seen, and that didn’t feel genuine to me at all. Maybe I wasn’t really afraid of what other people think of me; instead, what people think of the masks I’ve put on. Maybe it wasn’t about not being recognized by others, but it was about me still in the process of finding ways to show up more authentically. It’s naturally easier to take up space and be more confident in my skin once I come into radical acceptance. 

If you read until the end, thank you! It means a lot to me. I hope my story will spark something within you. To explore, to get to know yourself a little bit deeper, and to continue unapologetically pursuing your dreams.

♡