Feeling Thorny

I thought I was blooming into a rose. Alas, I have become a thorn. I’m feeling thorny.

It takes a great deal of courage to dig deep and instigate change, especially when the change begins with us. Choosing to “do the work” is a real commitment. For some, I think it’s the first commitment we ever truly make to ourselves.

It’s a commitment to unearthing all that has come before: to recognise patterns, to outgrow and untangle, to forgive, to honour what was and what no longer is, and to learn how to lean into our present “Self”.  

To ground and to begin over.

To spiral, upwards.

Massive!

It doesn’t look or feel like an instantaneous glow-up, perpetual “love & light,” and it’s unfair to squash it into a reductive #healingera hashtag.

Feeling my prickles yet?

At times on this journey, there is more confusion than clarity, more grief than gratitude, and ultimately feeling more “lost” than found.

These past few months I have been feeling expertly lost. I feel as though I’ve unearthed, and unearthed and unearthed, and I’m now knelt down, my hands covered in soil, expecting everything to feel “ok,” even though I’ve just spent the last two years digging up all that I know to be true. I’m moving through this new way of being in my metaphorical gardening overalls, tools at hand. 

However, I’ve realised, feeling this lost can only mean one thing: change is happening. And this is good.  

As existential and turbulent as it can feel, my prickliness with life is a new feeling. I’m on new turf.

Perhaps we dream of becoming the aesthetically pleasing Garden Rose, but what if true healing is about honouring this thorny feeling?

After all, thorns know they are protecting something beautiful.

May we continue to tender to the wilderness of our Hearts. 

With love,

Jessica xxx

P.S. Happy 8/8 <3