Left-Right-Peace

I took a day yesterday. 

A day to be petty and furious and weepy and exhausted.

A day to be all the things that someone who loooooves personal development “shouldn’t” be.

I put on some gloves and took it out on my heavy bag. I beat it. I kicked it. I called it names like “YOU ****ING SELF-RIGHTEOUS LITTLE ***NT-**SS ***TCH!!!!!!” Super immature, awful things. I laid into the bag until the anger was gone and the sadness took over and I ended up a depleted mess on the floor of my garage.

And wouldn’t you know, laying on the cool concrete, covered in dust and sweat, I felt way better.

Whatever was in me that needed to get out, had moved. The funk I’d been in for a long time felt like it had shaken loose and was puddled up in a Kristen-shaped sweat mark on the floor.

We are scared to go there – into the less-desirable-but-still-completely-valid human feelings. Maybe it makes us feel evil or childish or something. But we need to go there. To move energy and send it on its way. 

Certainly, there are unhealthy ways to do so. Bitching and moaning via status update… Trying to call someone out on social media… Spreading nasty rumors… Being an asshole to the innocent barista… Yeah, those methods aren’t gonna get anybody anywhere. In fact, they’ll probably spread the shittiness around more.

But, if we can move the feelings in a healthy way (without spreading them to other people), it is like MEDICINE for the  psyche. Scream or cry or cuss or rage to an inanimate object. Write an e-mail you’ll never send. Punch a bag. Vent to a friend who will just listen without offering any judgment or unsolicited advice.

Our feelings are real. They are valid. And we need to process them so they don’t become embedded. We’ll get to the higher-level stuff — the love and namaste. But if we skip over the crummy stuff, it will become stuck, flavoring all future interactions with the subtle (or not-so-subtle) taste of bitterness. So take a minute or an hour or a day to let it all move through.

I’m grateful for yesterday. I’m grateful for my heavy bag and my garage and my neighbors who hopefully didn’t hear too much of my tirade. 😳 I’m grateful for my patient man who lets me feel what I need to feel. I’m grateful for the lightness and ease that have slid into the spaces left by things I knocked loose.

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