I reside in my head. Or perhaps I float as a mind above my body, pretending that my body -- it's physical reactions to emotion, it's ability to know in ways that my mind can't -- I pretend that my body doesn't exist.
I struggle mightily with the belief that I'm worthy. Believing that someone will hire me. Believing that I am a good parent to my daughter. That my school work is worthy of my husband giving up his evenings to parenting so I can do homework. That my dreams are worth support.
I am depressed. I am anxious. I was on some powerful medicine, but I really began to feel better when I began a weekly practice of Yoga.
And then my therapist said to me: "You can't be certain of that, but you can be certain of your ability to cope."
I began to be present in my body, and I began to cope -- to keep a bedtime, to drink lots of water, to eat regularly, to journal.
It felt fragile. It felt like selfishness. It felt like all my excuses for being sad and stressed and anxious were being stripped away. It left me responsible for myself and my life.
And then the powerful medicine was replaced with less powerful medicine. And I began to struggle again.
I have to believe I'm worthy by acting like I'm worthy. By taking care of myself. By coping. When I pray, I move my feet. The only way to transform this is by going through.
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