I invite you to take a moment to close your eyes and imagine a bridge.
This bridge is old and worn down. It’s sturdy but creeks and may lose a board or two as you cross it. The years that it’s spent allowing those who have come before you access to the other side is written in its frame.
You can’t see what’s on the other side but you’re curious. Terrified and enlivened all at once. Desperate to know what else is out there. And desperate to go back to not knowing this bridge existed.
As you look around you, what does your side of the bridge feel like? All of a sudden the ground you are on may feel more alluring. Maybe the dead grass and desolate soil isn’t so bad. Maybe I can get used to never feeling the sun and wandering this barren land. Because at least it’s familiar. All while your soul within is begging you to answer the call for something more.
Listen to your body. What does it need to cultivate the courage to take the next step on the bridge? Perhaps a guide, someone who has navigated this terrain before. Someone who says, “I haven’t made your journey but I have taken this path, let’s do it together.” Maybe a grounded reminder of all of the obstacles you have overcome so far. A totem of some sort may help tether you to your breathe as your remind yourself to breathe in and out.
Now imagine taking a step. What happens in your body? Do you wobble or become uncentered? Do your arms flail out for support just like they did when you were an infant babe feeling frightened? Can you feel your own arousal within your body, coming alive to keep you safe? How is your body telling you that you are alive in this moment?
What was this exercise like for you?
No really. Grab a pen and journal about it! Where were you on the bridge? Did you make it to the middle? Or maybe you found yourself on the other side and noticing how far you’ve come.
I often talk about the bridge between what was and what’s to come with my clients. I think often we aren’t prepped for the lonely isolation and visceral fear that comes with deep healing work. Sure we know that we want to feel better, but what about when we have learned to associate abuse with love? What does it feel like to unweave so much of the fabric that was used within our upbringing and that we then wove into our current relationships, careers, parenting habits, etc? Excruciating. Lonely. Terrifying. If these words resonate I want you to take a moment to express gratitude toward your Self. They are guiding you home.
Throughout this process it is so easy to get tangled up in focusing on how far we have to go or how scary the process is. We forget to tend to your body and mind along the way. Thanking it for anchoring us to the moment and communicating what we need and how to protect ourselves.
This is how we remember that we aren’t alone, even when we feel it. There’s a reason this bridge feels old and worn. There’s a reason it hasn’t fallen and is capable of supporting all of you. It’s because you aren’t the first and you won’t be the last to make this pilgrimage home. There is so much life on the other side of fear, we just need to keep breathing and moving one foot in front of the other.
So take one more moment back with your bridge. Can you see it? Can you feel it? Can you see into the mist as you’re feeling lost? As you strain your eyes you may notice there are so many others on the other side of the bridge. Cheering you on. Holding signs, reminding you to breathe, reminding you you aren’t alone, reminding you you are loved. Waiting for you and so excited for you to join them in freedom. And if you’re desiring a guide for the journey ahead, you can imagine me coming to meet you and ready to walk with you. You aren’t alone, beloved. Keep breathing and dare to ask for more.
Wishing you valor and imagination along your journey,