Discomfort

When discomfort knocks, listen.

When discomfort comes knocking it’s usually a sign. One that rings loud and clear about what it feels like to not be 100% in our skin. It has it own language, and usually starts like this:

“This does not feel right. I want to get out of here. You've ignored me again and I'm running out of words to speak to you."

We laugh, turn down its volume another notch, and shame it for attempting to ruffle our feathers.

But it keeps knocking.

And knocking.

And knocking.

And eventually -if we are fortunate enough- it screams one last cry, knocking us to our knees. And we break.

We break because the weight of not listening becomes too heavy to carry. We break because when our skin no longer looks like our own, we shed the imposter so that we can inch a little closer to home.

And that process of breaking, stretching, exploding holds more goodness than we could ever imagine because between it all, there are lessons.

Lessons about boundaries. Lessons about what it means to stand firm in what feels true. Lessons about when it’s actually okay to surrender and listen.

And we take those layers of lessons with us. We sling them around our bodies and come to find that those moments of surrender are the greatest pieces of clothing that we could ever own.

Our bones have been carefully crafted to support us, guide us, empower us. We all have the power to know when stepping too far outside of our skin looks more like self sabotage and less like the great unknown.

Because when we are in our truth, we flow. There is discomfort, yes. But our skin equips us with the tools to know when the stretching brings fresh blood flow rather than torn ligaments and broken bones.

 You know. You have known.