Week three. June 17-23.
I’m showered, with coffee, on a cozy cushion, and looking around the room at the five bouquets of flowers that I think it’s necessary to have. Given, some of them are dried and some of them are rose clippings for my mom so that she can hopefully replant them at their house.
I don’t tell you this to bore you (though maybe I already have), or to set the scene, it just usually happens to be where my thoughts go first, receiving whatever textures, colors, smells, and other visuals the that make the space my space. A safe space. Comfortable and cozy. And this is such a treat, to have a space that I love. That I feel at home in—I want to do everything I can to be sure that I never take it for granted. There are, however, things that I have not done to it that I would like to. There are things that I believe would enhance the room, making it brighter and more inviting (ahem, a new lick of paint), but to me, and after realizing just how much work remodeling and redesigning is, it’s been fun to work with what I have.
I almost feel as if I’ve gotten to know each piece, book, candle, plant, and so forth, in a more heartfelt way.
Also, and maybe, just as this room and the rest of my home, there will always be things to approve upon. There will always be upkeep and care that I don’t initially think about. There will always be those little disasters and mishaps that completely throw you off guard. There will always be those moments that humble or crumble you. So much so that it’s enough sometimes to simply let things be, at least for now. At least until that little feeling in your gut tells you you’re ready.
And this, of course, can feel similarly to the relationship that we have with ourself: Always something to work on and work through. Always something. And sometimes I feel very much ready to take it on. To tackle things on a bigger scale. To readdress some of the “problems (I don’t like how that sounds in relation to yourself, but you get the idea!) that might have been shoved aside or left until later. Your gut knows. Those instinctual feelings that cannot be explained are more often than not, right.
It doesn’t ever feel good to feel crunched for time when attempting to make a space a home, whether it be yourself or your physical space. There may be external limitations, sacrifices, and deadlines and that’s ok—there are still ways that you can face them in a way that works for you right now. In a way that puts listening and intentionality above all else.
And even if we can’t immediately make shifts and changes to better suit our needs and wants, we can actively make note of them, storing that feeling away until we’ve either made the room or the room is naturally made for us to redirect our focus and pay attention to the areas that very well could have been neglected or gone unnoticed.
I only say all of this because though I am lucky enough to have a physical space that I have made my own, the relationship that I carry with myself is more delicate than I ever could have imagined. The thoughts I think and the way I talk to myself? Every moment of every day I attempt to be more mindful of how they play out. Some moments my relationship with self is the most beautiful thing, while other times it breaks me. It keeps me playing small. It tricks me into thinking that I am not deserving or worthy or enough.
Amongst other things that don’t need to be mentioned (because we kind of already know them).
I hope to always take note of these things, some moments being easier to do so than others. I hope to always receive help when it’s needed, whether it be from myself or those around me. I hope to always how kindness, even if it’s simply in the wake of harshness.
I hope a lot of things.
Some may come true and some may not, but regardless of the outcome, I can at least trust that I will have tried my darnedest.
Alright loves, that’s a wrap for this week.