Bending Into Brave

It hurts in your center today.

It hurts so much that you have to bend over when you sit, cross your arms when you walk–like you’re trying to protect yourself from someone– but you can’t, because that someone is you.

“It hurts too much,” the pain says.

“There is no hope,” the depression shouts.

“Life is not worth living,” the grief tells.

Lies, your head knows.

Truth, your center screams.

Lies, you think.

Truth, you feel.

Perhaps you have lived this battle before– maybe for other reasons, or in other years. You know it well.Or it might be your first go-around with sadness that begs you to stay in bed, pull the blanket high over your pillows, and sleep until it doesn’t hurt to wake up.

But either way you– like me–you know this aching middle. You wish you didn’t, but you do.

Whether this is your first or thousandth battle, let me tell you the truth you cannot feel today, not when the lies are winning.

Let me give you the reminder your heart needs:

On the other side of this there is only more Strong. Only more Beauty. Only more Love. Every bit of light that shines through you will enter through this shattering, this vast space created by it.Your broken heart will heal. Your empty middle will fill with grace and compassion and things so beautiful you can’t imagine them today. And you don’t have to imagine today; you can’t.

All you can do is bend over the pain.

So listen very closely–today bending is the only thing you have to do.

There is a reason fetal position is where we go instinctively when we are sick, when we are in a fight, or when we cry: Our center is our vulnerability–our essence. It is where we are most susceptible to harm: both in body–where our physical heart and vital organs are–and in our soul, where our deepest heart and integral emotions live..

So while curling up into a little ball may look like a position of weakness; it is actually one of faith:

It is your promise to protect your fragile self while the slow, painful, beautiful work of change is done.

It is the position of the caterpillar in the cocoon, far before it is ready to fly.

It is the pose of a Love Warrior, as our sister Glennon Doyle Melton would say, because warriors have to heal.

So curl up as tightly as you need to. Hold your hurts with both hands.

Touch your aching middle, press in around the pain, and know–KNOW, my loves:

You are bending into Brave.

Dear Ones: I have been absent for a long time–this you know. What you don’t know is that I have been away for the better part of a year because of Depression: buried in the deepest darkness I have ever experienced. I am back now only because I have taken my recovery seriously. (In truth: I didn’t have a choice.) You will read much more about this time, and about my lessons learned in the night, but for today–this is Enough, because this post is how I am bending into brave. I love you.– Reba