I love a good Hero’s Journey as much as the next person. If you’re unfamiliar with the concept, it’s a common story arc found in movies like Star Wars, The Matrix, and Lord of the Rings where the hero goes on an adventure, is victorious in a decisive crisis, and comes home changed or transformed. The hero can also be female, as we see in The Hunger Games.
However, despite swapping out a male character for a female one, the hero’s journey is not the same as the heroine’s journey, meaning it doesn’t address the psycho-spiritual journey for many women. (I’ll also add in here it’s likely the hero’s journey doesn’t work well for some men either.) Joseph Campbell popularized the Hero’s Journey in 1949 with men in mind and said “Women don’t need to make the journey. In the whole mythological journey, the woman is there. All she has to do is realize that she’s the place that people are trying to get to.”
Um, thanks Joe. I mean, on the one hand I get that he’s pointing toward wholeness and encouraging men to embrace the more feminine aspects of themselves, but on the other hand, what about us ladies?!? For women, there’s the Heroine’s Journey, developed by Maureen Murdock. If the Hero’s Journey is about ascending a mountaintop, the Heroine’s Journey is about descending to the underworld. When a friend said that to me recently, my response was, “Yeeeesssssssss,” because that’s EXACTLY my experience. All of my demons have been internal. All of my personal development work has been about confronting my own shadow and reclaiming wholeness.
For some people, they undertake the heroine’s journey. Photo by ActionVance on Unsplash
Part of confronting the shadow comes from interacting with other people of course. I’m not saying the Heroine’s Journey takes place in a locked room. We see this in two popular movies that follow the Heroine’s Journey arc: Pixar’s Brave and the first Wonder Woman movie. I remember when I watched both those movies for the first time how touched I felt afterward. They impacted me in a deep way and I could see myself reflected in the characters that I couldn’t as much when watching the original Star Wars, for instance.
What makes the Heroine’s Journey different? Instead of ending the story after successfully conquering ogres and dragons, the heroine becomes disillusioned and realizes she feels unfulfilled. Something is missing in her life and she falls into despair because of it. She yearns to reconnect with her whole self – the feminine, soft side and the wounded masculine – and integrates the two. After doing so, she interacts with the world beyond binaries and understands complexity.
This is forever what I’m working on and in fact is a part of the spiritual journey as well as the journey society is taking. My spiritual teacher says, “Until recently there was a defective idea in all the corners and amongst all the groups of people on the Earth, that males are blessed beings, and not females. In your family life, you know, you feel that the parents cannot have any sense of disparity in their mind regarding their sons and daughters. Both are equally important; both are equally loving. I said my sons and my daughters are just like two hands of mine. They are just like the wings of a bird. A bird having one wing cannot fly.”
My teacher is speaking specifically about the role of women in society – women need to be respected and treated just as well as men – but I think the concept also applies within a person as well. We are like birds and can’t fly properly if one wing is more dominant than another. The Heroine’s Journey is one mechanism that supports our return to wholeness and one that I’m now embracing.
I dream of a world where we realize the Hero’s Journey is not everyone’s journey. A world where we understand the alternative, the Heroine’s Journey, could help us become more whole. A world where we integrate all aspects of ourselves – masculine and feminine – in order to fly freely through the world like the beautiful birds we are.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
There’s a show on Netflix with teenagers that each have one magical power. One of the young women has the superpower of empathy. I feel incredulous whenever I think about it. “What?!? Who would write in empathy as a superpower?” I say this as an empath and a highly sensitive person.
Empaths sense subtle energy and absorb it from other people and environments into their bodies. Scientifically speaking, they have hyperresponsive mirror neurons so they deeply resonate with other people’s feelings. For instance, this summer as wildfires raged throughout California, I didn’t sleep well. As soon as the fires were mostly contained, I started sleeping better. It’s complicated because I had my personal worry about the fires, but it was amplified by everyone else’s worry.
A highly sensitive person, or HSP, is someone who has a low threshold for stimulation, needs alone time, is sensitive to light, sound, and smell, and has an aversion to large groups. It also takes HSPs longer to wind down after a busy day because their ability to transition from high stimulation to low stimulation is slower. If you’re interested in determining whether you’re an HSP, you can take a self-assessment test. In case you’re wondering, I answer “yes” to every single question.
This came up when I searched for “sensitive.” Photo by Ermelinda Martín on Unsplash
It turns out high sensitivity affects about 20% of the population. It’s a genetic trait and it’s found not only in humans, but species like primates, dogs, goats, rats, and elk, to name a few. High sensitivity helps the evolution of each species because the highly sensitive ones more easily pick up on changes in the environment that are crucial for survival. They are the ones who first sense there are lions in the bushes for instance, researcher Dr. Elaine Aron tells us. And the nonsensitive ones drive off the lions.
You can be an HSP without being an empath, but that’s not the case for me. It’s challenging because it takes so much freaking effort for me to just live in the world. Things that other people don’t give a second thought – like going to a sports game back when we could do that safely – I have to weigh the pros and cons.
Most of the time, I think of sensitivity and empathy as gifts I’d like to return, but the reality is that doesn’t serve me. These two traits are genetic and I can’t change them any more than I can change my eye color. What’s the solution then? It may sound like a pat answer but the answer is self-acceptance. How do you learn to accept yourself? Oh man, I don’t know. That’s why people have written books and offer courses on the topic. It’s not something you can solve overnight.
A good entry point though is a modified version of the serenity prayer: “Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change about myself, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.” From there, trust that the right actions will be shown and that you’ll have the courage to take them.
I dream of a world where we love and accept ourselves. A world where we embrace the uniqueness of every individual whether they’re a highly sensitive person or not. A world where we create space for all people to be themselves without elevating one person or another. A world where we realize humanity is like a garden filled with numerous flowers.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
The other week I wrote that all any part of me wants is love and presence. Ever since I said, “I love you” to my fearful part, it’s as if I triggered a rock slide, and now other parts are popping up and saying, “What about me? Do you love me, too?”
The practice is a difficult one because so much of my life has been geared toward fighting, toward struggling, to talking back. For instance, if I think I’m fat, my response will be, “No you’re not.” I don’t allow for the thought to even exist. Since the other week though and learning to love a part I previously only pushed away, instead of fighting back, I’m saying, “OK Rebekah. So what if you are? I love your body no matter what. If it’s fat, if it’s thin, if it’s not functioning the way you want it to, I love it, and you anyway.”
I feel vulnerable even typing that because it’s true, what I long for is unconditional love and I’ve withheld it from myself in a never-ending quest toward an unattainable ideal. I think there’s also a fear if I shower myself with unconditional love that I’ll become an inert blob, but the truth is, love doesn’t mean constant indulgence. Love means compassion, understanding, acceptance, allowance. It means saying to myself, “I see you as you are, right now, and I love you anyway.” From that place, real change and transformation occurs. Loving my fearful part didn’t make me more afraid, quite the opposite. Loving my fearful part gave me a sense of relief and peace unlike any I’ve experienced before.
Can I love it all? I’m working on it. Photo by Roman Kraft on Unsplash.
My spiritual practice promotes the cultivation of love. Of viewing everything as an expression of an infinite loving consciousness, of trying to grow the internal feeling of love. Our goal is to love all living beings and to merge ourselves in the source of that feeling. To swim in an ocean of love. The thing is though, if I keep believing some parts of me are not worthy and deserving of love, there’s no way I can give myself over to that ocean. It’s like saying, “Your legs are allowed to wade into the water, but your arms have to stay dry.” I can’t experience complete merger until I’m completely submerged.
What I’m coming to here is recognizing, again, all parts of me want love. My body wants love, my mind wants love, my emotions want love. The cool thing is I can give that to myself. I don’t have to wait for some imagined future that may never come. I don’t have to wait for someone else to come along and say, “I love all parts of you unconditionally.”
If you had asked me five years ago whether I loved myself, I would have said yes because I said affirmations and treated myself with kindness. I checked all the boxes people listed when they spoke of self-love. Now though I’ve reached a new level of love because it’s not just looking in the mirror and saying I love you. It’s saying I love you to the part of me that says mean things. It’s saying I love you to the part of me that’s disappointed. It’s saying I love you to everything, regardless of my judgment of the part. Now the answer to the question, “Do you love me, too?” is “Yes.”
I dream of a world where we love all parts of ourselves, even the parts we don’t particularly like. A world where we recognize every part is worthy and deserving of love. A world where we work toward loving ourselves unconditionally.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
There are some qualities about myself I do not like – namely insecurity and anxiety. Partly, I feel a lot of insecurity and anxiety due to my heightened sensitivity as my adrenal glands normalize, but the qualities are still within me. I’ve been struggling with these two for a long time as you’ll have noticed from reading this blog. My affirmations of late have been, “I release my need for insecurity and anxiety, I release all resistance,” but there hasn’t been any traction. The affirmation hasn’t held.
Friday morning I decided to take a new approach. The Queen of Self-Love, Christine Arylo, recommends loving the things about yourself you do not like. I’ve done this with great success – every morning I say, “Rebekah, I love how sensitive you are because that means you’re better able to accept and receive divine messages.” So I tried conducting the practice on insecurity and anxiety: “Rebekah, I love how insecure you are because that means you’re interested in connecting. I love how anxious you are because that means you care deeply.”
I love this! Fish with love!
My battered, war-torn soul sighed in relief from no longer having to engage in conflict. “Really? Do you mean it?” I asked. “I really do,” I replied.
A very wise monk, who unfortunately passed away in November, used to say that all anything wants is infinite, unconditional love. That means my insecurity just wants to be loved, my anxiety just wants to be loved, my fear just wants to be loved, etc. All innate characteristics want infinite love. However, I also know, “As you think, so you become,” which is why affirmations are so powerful. Do I really want to keep affirming my insecurity and anxiety? Do I really want to keep these things around?
No. I do not. So what I’m circling back to is releasing them, however, this time I release them out of love. And I think that makes all the difference. Instead of saying, “Ugh, I hate feeling so insecure and anxious. Go away and leave me alone!” I’m saying, “I love you for what you’ve done for me, but now I recognize I don’t need you anymore. I release you and let you go.” I don’t need anxiety to care about people, places, and things, nor do I need insecurity to tell me I crave connection.
Maybe nobody cares about this except for me, but it feels pretty big. To love something I used to hate and then still let it go. To love all parts of myself but recognize some of them do not serve me. To release the bad and hold onto the good. To be open to new ways of being. To love myself so much I say goodbye to the old and welcome the new. I’m walking into a new paradigm and I dream of that for others as well.
I dream of a world where we release the traits that aren’t working for us with love. A world where we love ourselves so much we know when it’s time to say goodbye to some of them. A world where we keep the lessons we’ve learned but discard the rest. A world where we’re open to transformation and then receive it.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Every so often I notice my blogposts take on a certain theme; they'll build off of each other. Lately I've been talking about self-care and treating myself the way I treat others. While listening to an interview with Christine Arylo I realized all of these separate pieces come under the umbrella of self-love. See, I used to think self-love meant looking in the mirror and saying, "I love you." But I have to tell you, even after years of doing so I haven't noticed much difference. I mean, there are some subtle changes in how I view myself but I still don't feel as if I love myself fully. When I heard Christine's interview the penny finally dropped.
Christine says self-love is about more than affirmations. In fact, there are 10 branches of self-love: self-acceptance, self-care, self-trust, self-awareness, self-compassion and forgiveness, self-empowerment, self-honor and respect, self-esteem, self-expression, and self-pleasure. Like branches of a tree, these parts of self-love feed into self-worth, the root of self-love. Here, I'll show you a nifty picture she drew:
After hearing all of this, it made sense why I've felt as if I'm missing something. My self-esteem, self-awareness, and self-expression branches have been massive. Believing I can accomplish anything I set my mind to? Check. Having knowledge of who I am and what I'm good at? Check. Self-expressive? Double check. The others though? Not so much. I can't really profess that I love myself until I take equal care of all those self-love branches.
Why am I dithering on about self-love? I operate under the belief the outside world is a reflection of my internal one. The more I love myself the more loving people show up in my life. The more I take care of myself the more I can take care of others. Self-love may seem selfish (and Christine addresses that in her book Madly in Love with Me) but honestly, how on Earth are we supposed to love other people if we don't even know what it means to love ourselves? How can I show up for other people if I can't fully show up for myself?
This topic of self-love has become so important to me in the past few years because as I get older I realize no one will be able to love me the way I want to be loved. The amount of love I want is infinite and no finite human being will be able to give that to me. I'm not even sure I can give that to me but I'm much more suited to it than anyone else. Also, I have to be honest here — people drift in and out of my life. No one is with me all the time except for me, so really, the only love I can depend on 100% of the time is the love I have for myself and the love the universe has for me. And really, why would I want to put such an essential and basic human need solely in the hands of someone else? I'd much rather balance loving myself and having others love me. I can't get all the love I need from other people nor can I get all the love I need from myself.
If this blogpost sounds like a ringing endorsement of Christine's book, it is. She has practical tips and activities for how we can love ourselves more. I enjoy how in depth her book is because the stuff I've been doing only works to a degree. I don't want a degree, I want the whole shebang. So in reference to the title of this post, what's love got to do with it? Everything.
I dream of a world where we all love ourselves fully. A world where we understand to love ourselves is to love others. A world where we fill up our self-love cup and allow it to run over. A world where we water every branch of the self-love tree. A world where we show up for ourselves because we deserve it.
Another world is not only possible, it's probable.
Most of you probably associate the phrase “born this way” with Lady Gaga’s song. One of the things I love about Lady Gaga is she so unabashedly loves and accepts herself and she encourages others to do the same. Her song, and subsequent foundation, center primarily on LGBTQ youth but there are another sect who were “born this way.” Addicts. I’ve been tip-toeing around this for years, but I’m finally going to say it: I’m an addict. I just broke a bunch of rules by announcing that to the world, so before I go further, please know I don’t speak on behalf of anyone, I’m not representative of any organization. I can only tell you about me and my experience.
It may surprise some of you to hear I’m an addict considering I don’t drink or do drugs, there are no track lines on my arms. From the outside I look pretty “normal.” But I very much am an addict. In my post from a few weeks ago, I wrote about how I’ve been crying off and on now that my book Just a Girl from Kansas has been sent to friends and family members. After talking with a good friend, I realized it’s because I’ve felt deeply ashamed. I’ve felt ashamed of revealing to the entire world my private thoughts and behaviors. I’ve been ashamed to let people know I’m an addict. That’s probably because there’s still a stigma attached to addicts. They’re often portrayed in the media as engaging in risky behavior or otherwise self-destructing. There are very few positive role models for addicts. I think it’s because there is an air of secrecy, of anonymity. And the anonymity can breed shame because if you don’t tell people, if they’re not supposed to know, isn’t it like you have a dirty little secret?
I’m writing this post because I’ve heard so many people this week talk about how ashamed they feel of being an addict, myself included. How it’s a terrible, awful thing that no one but other addicts can know about. The disease becomes a moral issue, makes me a “bad” person. I’m writing this post for other addicts, and for anyone else who thinks they have to be ashamed of who they are. I’m here to tell you the person who smokes pot, the person who pays for sex, the person who drowns themselves in alcohol, or gambles away their life savings is not a bad person. They’re a person in pain. None of those people, myself included, chose to be this way. Nobody likes the fact they feel compelled to do something like pull food from the garbage can and eat it. Nobody wants to admit to that. We were born this way.
I am not a bad person. I’m a very good person. My creator made me this way so how can I say it’s something to be ashamed of. Do you tell a lily to be ashamed it smells the way it does? Do you tell a cat to be ashamed it likes to chase mice? So why should I be ashamed of the way that I am? I really can’t help it. Instead of wasting so much time and energy “hiding” my secret or berating myself for who I am, I’d rather practice love and acceptance. I’d rather say, this is who I am, and who I am is just fine. Because it is. Because I was born this way.
I dream of a world where we all feel loved and accepted for who we are. A world where we know we were all born the way we are and there’s no need to feel ashamed of it. A world where we treat everyone with compassion because behind their words and actions probably lies a person in a lot of pain. A person who wants to know it’s safe for me them to be themselves. I dream of a world where that person knows that it is safe to be who they are because who they are is beautiful. Because they were born that way.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Where I am today is complete allowance of all that is. Not all of you will understand this blogpost, and that’s ok. It’s written for those of you it resonates with.
A few weeks ago I told my mom it’s a miracle I’m feeling my feelings. She said, “Rebekah, you’re human, so of course you’re feeling your feelings.” No. Not true. I have used everything to escape feeling my emotions – food, television, books, crushes – anything besides feeling them. The fact I’m now feeling my emotions really is a miracle. On Friday night I felt sad and lonely and a little crazy and instead of reaching for something to distract me, I just felt my feelings. I wanted to use affirmations, put a positive spin on all of it, but ultimately I allowed what was.
I am completely allowing myself to feel my feelings: good, bad, and ugly. I am no longer forcing myself to feel better or trying to hide parts of myself for fear others will judge me. Not just my feelings, but all parts of me. On Friday I even *gasp* went to the pool without shaving. It was perhaps the first time I walked into the pool completely unselfconscious. It was perhaps the first time in my life I allowed myself to be who I am in public without fear, without hesitation. Most of the time I’m only my true self when I feel it’s safe to do so: in the comfort of my home, with friends, at spiritual retreats. Friday was the first time it didn’t matter to me if I was being judged.
This all comes at a great time because I finished editing my book and I sent it to a professional copyeditor. I’m freaking out because that means someone else is going to read it! That probably sounds really funny because, um, when you write books you generally want people to read them. And furthermore I blog regularly about my personal life so why the commotion?
The commotion is Just a Girl From Kansas is not my blog. It’s much more personal. People are going to read my journal entries. They’re going to read my most intimate thoughts and feelings. They’re going to experience all the highs and lows I went through when I first moved to California and everything after that. It’s not a light and fluffy account. It’s my real life in its most raw form.
I’m scared because after this there is no more hiding. There is no pretending I’m a “normal” girl with a “perfect” life. All my crazy will be on display and how will people react? Except I’m not sure it matters all that much, because like I wrote a few weeks ago, those that mind don’t matter, and those who matter don’t mind. What it really comes down to is me. Allowing myself to be all that I am, allowing myself to be who I am without limits. Allowing all expressions of myself, allowing all parts of myself to exist and know they’re all ok. No one part is better than the other. Even my unpleasant feelings are acceptable. Even my sometimes-hairy legs are acceptable. I can allow all of it.
I dream of a world where we allow ourselves to be all that we can be. A world where we give ourselves permission to do so. A world where we show up for our lives and let things be what they are. A world where we love ourselves unconditionally, even the parts we don’t necessarily want the world to see. A world where we live in complete allowance knowing self-love is what matters the most.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
“I’m wearing brown boots with a black jacket! People are going to judge me!” “I didn’t meditate as long as my friend! What’s he going to think?” Here’s a little secret: No one is judging me as much as I’m judging myself. People are generally self-centered creatures and more often than not are thinking about themselves. So while I’m contemplating judgment for pairing brown boots with a black jacket, the person I’m passing on the street is probably worrying about how people might judge her for wearing sunglasses while it’s cloudy.
I know it seems trivial but when I can finally let go of self-judgment (or even judging myself for how others will judge me) I get to show up in the world. I get to be me without fear of repercussions. I get to do what I feel is best. I get to know and experience joy because I’m doing what I want without fear of what others might think. It can be paralyzing, the fear of others’ judgment. Not wanting to step out of line because the neighbors will gossip. But really, it’s usually just me judging myself. And when it’s not, well, there’s an excellent Dr. Seuss quote that addresses that: “Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don’t matter and those who matter don’t mind.”
Yes. How true. Those that I love and who love me will not pass judgment on wearing brown boots with a black jacket, or for anything else my mind can think of. And if someone does think I’m a clueless fashion train wreck, I don’t necessarily want them in my life, now do I?
I suppose what I’m saying on a deeper level is the person who judges me the most is me. I’m my worst critic. I’m the one who berates myself, who says means things. And everyone else is doing the same. (At least I think they are. I’ve heard tale anyway.)
Where I am now is trying not to worry about what others think, yes, but also not worry about what I think others will think. It is safe for me to show up in the world. It is safe for me to express myself. It is safe for me to do things and say things and wear things that are in alignment with my heart without fear of judgment. I can give myself that permission, to be all that I can be. To rejoice in life. To accept myself as I am because honestly, no one really cares and the people who care aren’t worth associating with.
I have to admit I’ve been a bit scared to show my true colors, but I see now, I don’t have to be. Because the only one judging me is me.
I dream of a world where we stop judging ourselves and each other. A world where we know it’s safe to be ourselves. A world where we live life to the fullest, expressing the truest part of ourselves. A world where we love ourselves and each other. A world where we let ourselves be. A world where we give ourselves permission to do so.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
“It’s all my fault. I’m to blame. Why didn’t I do it differently? Why didn’t I know better?” I loooove to play the blame game. I love to have that dialogue in my head (more like diatribe). On Tuesday I went to the physical therapist and looked at myself in the mirror. As I did so I felt like I was to blame for everything wrong with my body. I’m the reason my knees are knobby. I’m the reason my hips hurt. I’m the reason my hair is scraggly. And to top it off, I received outside reinforcement. My physical therapist said to me if I hadn’t sat in the “w” position when I was a child (with my feet behind me and my knees in front of me) my knees would be “normal.” Or my hips wouldn’t hurt if I strengthened my pelvic core.
I’m not blaming her because Lord knows I do that enough to myself. What I’m doing though is asking myself how I benefit. How do I benefit from taking the blame for everything? What do I get from finding fault? The answer is nothing (surprise, surprise). The feeling of blame doesn’t help me change anything. It doesn’t help me solve my problem.
The blame game, especially when I play by myself, keeps me stuck in the problem. I’d rather live in the solution. And sometimes there is no solution. That’s where serenity comes in. Accepting the things I cannot change and changing the things I can. I can’t change the past. I can’t change how my knees grew in. So maybe I can stop blaming myself for how they stick out and instead start accepting and appreciating them for getting me where I want to go. I can choose to love and accept myself as I am or continue to play the blame game. Take me out coach, I’m done.
I used to think blame was a great motivator. “If I chastise myself enough I’ll do something!” Um, no. If I chastise myself enough I’ll feel bad, that’s it. My parents loved to say to me as a child, “You catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar.” I don’t know if that’s technically true because I catch an awful lot of flies with apple cider vinegar, but I think the concept is sound. Love is a much better motivator than fear. I would do absolutely anything for the people I love. Not so much for the people I fear.
I guess what I’m saying in a roundabout way is blame doesn’t serve me. Blame gives me pain rather than serenity. And serenity is what I’m shooting for these days. I can’t fix my joints but I can strengthen my pelvic core and get a haircut. And I can also look myself in the mirror and accept what I see because it’s much easier to change your mind than it is to change your body. Cheaper too.
I dream of a world where we cut blame out of the equation. A world where we understand blame is useless because it doesn’t help us to solve anything. A world where we each experience serenity, accepting the things we cannot change and having the courage to change the things we can. A world where we live in the solution, asking what we can do about the situation. A world where we know practice love and compassion not only for each other but for ourselves.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
During a conversation with a friend this week I kept hearing the refrain, “Why aren’t you more like her? She is better than you are. Change yourself. Why aren’t you more like her? She is better than you are. . .” It was on a loop in my head.