I am learning to be honest but the journey is not an easy one. Girls are not taught to be honest, we are taught to be good, compliant, helpful, pleasing to others. What a price we pay for this.
When I burned out, in order to recover, I had to look at all the ways I had abandoned myself. Why did I neglect my own needs? On the surface, it looked like I was doing everything right. I worked hard, was motivated to give my pupils my full attention and my best work. I tried hard to be a good wife, good mother, good daughter, good sister, good aunt, good friend, good person. I thought that was what I was supposed to do : be a loving, productive member of society.
One day, I read a poem, Wild Geese by Mary Oliver. In it she says
“You do not have to be good………
You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves”.
These words stopped me in my tracks. My whole life was fuelled by the desire to be good. Being good had led me all the way to burnout and I had no idea what the “soft animal” of my body loved. My body was at the mercy of my mind, that cruel taskmaster who brooked no weakness.
I learned that burnout burns the whole edifice of the self to the ground. When all we know ourselves to be is gone and the body collapses in exhaustion, there is a sense of falling into a void, where only being honest will save you.
This honesty is painful.
Who am I when I have no job, no useful role to play in society?
Who am I when all my plans lie like dust at my feet?
Who am I now when my whole way of being in the world led me to this?
Slowly, as the tears of loss and grief dry, a new realisation begins to emerge from these questions.
Who am I without any labels?
Who am I when I do not try to be good?
Who am I when I do not try?
What does the “soft animal” love?
I sit here in the soft morning light, pen spilling its purple ink secrets onto the page, coffee by my side, the smell of fresh air through the open door. Puppies chase each other in the garden, birdsong fills the air, trees sprawl green and luscious above my head. Just this, now, is enough. This I love.
The realisation that I belong to the world, as it belongs to me. I do not have to be good, I do not have to earn my place.
Mary Oliver concludes her poem:
“Whoever you are, no matter how lonely
The world offers itself to your imagination
Calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting
Over and over, announcing your place
In the family of things”.
This is wonderful! I have been going through these ponderings, asking these questions, realizing my abandonment of me was prescribed from the start.
And coming into my body, into my knowing in a wondrous way. My body is being healed as I renounce and repent of the lies I have lived.
And just to add the frosting, I get more done when I do not rush; touch lives deeply when I truly listen to stories; give healing and encouragement to others because I now own it to give.
I was first healed of fear, and all the other stuff follows like onion-layers–what a blessing to find you experiencing similar awakening!
Thank you for your open generosity! You can afford to be generous, neh?
Hi Joanna
Isn’t it strange that we get more done when we do not rush! I am finding as I get better and better at listening to my body, that energy to do things is there when it is the “right” thing to do. Lack of energy and enthusiasm for something means it is not for me, just now. In the past, I would have pushed myself to get things done because I thought I should. I have deleted the word should from my vocabulary and just listen for that still, small voice that says “Do this now”. It never lets me down.