Apparently I identify as a "Goddamn Cheetah" and my pronouns are best described as “try” and “me”
@glennondoyle maybe saved my life with her brave words and @caseyann118 was the one who put the cure for what ailed me (then) in my hands and insisted I keep reading through the tears
It’s not an exaggeration to say that Tabitha’s story, that @glennondoyle shared in her book #UNTAMED, lives rent free in my head. In the book, our brave author shares the story of a family zoo outing where she experienced a reckoning of her own while watching a live action exhibit: a zoo born cheetah raised (read *tamed* from a cub) alongside a Labrador named Minnie, demonstrate their Wild instincts chasing a “dirty pink bunny,” tied to the bumper of a Jeep’s tailgate, speed down a well worn track. Glennon paints such a vivid, visceral picture of this she-cheetah, the fastest land animal on earth, raised in Illusory Truth to believe she’s akin to a common Labrador retriever; who should be happily obedient, “panting, begging” at her Keeper’s feet for groups of humans’ entertainment. Don’t get me wrong, I love a lab; they are damn good dogs. But Tabitha is a fucking she-cheetah… one of the most successful hunters on the Savanna, built for stealth, stalking and speed; incredibly lethal with instincts that drive a preference for wild species as opposed to domestic livestock. Our girl is wired to choose the harder prey…
It rocked me. I mean, come on - this majestic creature told a very consistent story her whole life, never knowing anything different and yet Her Spirit knows she’s made for more. She knows *they* are wrong. She could rip them to shreds and not break a sweat; it wouldn’t even challenge her. Perhaps that keeps them safe, there’s no sport to it… I digress.
This author uses her platform so incredibly bravely. She says things like “There She Is” and “Warrior On.” I have these, what I call *Tuning Fork moments*, where something in me sounds-off in total Resonance with the whole layered magnitude of what she means by those words.
I’ve always been hard-headed and strong-willed. It’s gotten me into some scrapes, sure. It’s also the thing I’m fairly certain, that continued to sustain The Spark of my indomitable spirit while my body was withering for so many years. She was just too stubborn to die, that bright “go ahead and underestimate me, that’ll be fun” girl. Thank God for her.
I am who I say I am dammit. Your Illusory Truth isn’t stronger than my will to live mine. Before my EDS diagnosis I had several orthopedic surgeries that followed excruciating subluxations/dislocations/major joint failings (hell, I’ve had both shoulders operated on - the left one TWICE!! And my left elbow 3 times!) I was a hell of a golfer and softball player though, comin up... didn’t know I was blowing out my joints with the repetitive motions and ridiculous momentum created by my increased range of motion. As a teen, I was so damn proud of being The Ringer from the red tees for grown ass men. Couldn’t tell me nothin’.
Doctors and PTs would caution me as I began my recovery and rehab/physical therapy that “it’s very unlikely you’ll get back ‘full range of motion’ or recover back to your pre-surgical 100%” <insert mental eye roll> *. OK doc, message received ;). Cut to me charging ahead, continuing to march because *they must not know ‘bout me…* dear jeezush, little did I know my odds were actually WAY better because my ‘default setting’ was fucking Gumby and it was probably healthier that I NOT regain my pre-surgical range of motion.
(Cue @taylorswifts #ANTIHERO ... it’s me, hi, I’m the problem, it’s me)
Forgiving myself has been hard. I’ve always done what I thought was best and as I’ve known better, I’ve done better. I’ve never lacked self confidence but I’ve just recently realized I lacked self-compassion. On my self-inflicted Death Ground a very smart lady said to me “b, you have to start treating yourself like you’re someone you love” and I shattered like glass. Those words landed way down deep and changed how I thought forever. So hear me dear ones; no matter your struggle, you are a goddamn cheetah and you HAVE TO start treating yourself like you’re someone you really love. What does She need? She started telling you in a whisper and you ignored her because everyone else’s wants and needs were more important/urgent. To have honored your own would’ve been selfish, right? That’s one of the greatest lies ever told. So now she’s escalated. The gloves are off! She will just get louder until you really hear her. You are the only one who can know what you need and ultimately you’re the only one who can ensure those needs are met. Make no mistake, we are all fighting for our lives. And Death Ground is where we do our best work. I just wish I had been able to have some of these revelations without the situation getting so dire. I never meant to feel helpless; I loathe it in fact. I’ve spent the vast majority of my life hypervigilant to ensure a maximum level of awareness and control of as many variables as possible. Survive and advance. So, to have arrived in a place I never meant to be pisses me off in a big way.
All this to say, I do plan to share real, tangible health tips and things I have learned that have worked for me to significantly move the needle– improving my mental, physical and emotional health. BUT you have to get your head right first. You cannot get better, in any sense of the word, if you don’t believe you can and that you are worth the effort. Full stop.
I have a working theory that goes something like "*the whole world is obsessed with ‘moving on’”. Consider this: growing up you experience a huge disappointment-- maybe a sports injury that changes the trajectory of your life, a devastating loss of a loved one, a heartbreak You question things and you’re told “get over it kid. That's life. move on.” It’s fucking terrible advice, in my opinion. When we’re told that while feeling big, transformative feelings, we internalize it as there must be something wrong with us. There is not! Everyone feels this languishing. I think it’s because we aren’t meant to MOVE ON, we are meant to MOVE WITH. Every single thing along the way is our alchemy and when you attempt to move on because you “should” you do so as a diminished version of yourself.
Hear me on this okay? As women, we spend so much time and effort on the roles we play in relation to others: wife, mom, daughter… and not just women. In school they are still asking all the kids “what do you want to be when you grow up” and it makes me a little bit cRaZybecause we focus so much as a society on what one does and not who one is - we have to get to a place where who we are cannot be taken away. If I am my job or I am a mother or a wife, those are ALL dependent on something external that we have no control over. There is no safety or sovereignty there. I am who I say I am and you can come for that, but you have no power Here. I belong to myself now. I’m still coming to terms with-- and actively working through-- how awful it can be to do/say a thing that I know will upset/make other people uncomfortable instead of keeping the peace outwardly at the cost of my inner peace.
As I was seeking wise counsel before I launched this chaotic endeavor, I shared a draft of a few of the posts I plan to publish with someone whose opinion I hold in very high regard. “Oh Britt. They will come for you, saying things *like this*” my friend said. “Are you ready for that?”
“Let them come. Goddamn cheetah, remember? not a Labrador instinct to be found.
ReplyForward