(published on Facebook April 26, 2021)
Personal Ruthlessness
Last week, on retreat with the International School of Temple Arts, I learned a whole lot about myself. I came to understand some of the ways in which I’m my own worst enemy — the ways in which I sabotage becoming who I want to be.
One of those ways is storytelling.
I spend a lot of my days telling stories in my head. Stories of victimhood and heroism, righteous anger and anxiety. Probably because I grew up mostly alone, with only the stories in my head to comfort me and help me make sense of the world. But now, this coping mechanism keeps me from living the life that I’m in, from really seeing the people in front of me, from accomplishing what I want to do.
. . .
I’ve spent the last five years learning to allow myself to feel, to be kind to myself, to stop judging myself and cut myself more slack.
But when our facilitator told us we needed to be ruthlessly truthful about our shadows, it hit me deeply. I realized I need to be a little bit ruthless with the Rachel who wants to escape and live in her own world — who is comforted by her assumptions and judgments and the false sense of control that comes from living in the mind.
. . .
In the last couple of days, I’ve been catching myself whenever I tell stories, and stopping myself.
It’s been a little boring, frankly.
Is this how other people live??
But my new therapist tells me it’s time to retrain my nervous system to enjoy peace, rather than the chaos and uncertainty that was my childhood companion.
So this is a meditation of sorts — catching myself when I go into fantasyland and bringing myself back to the present. Being ruthless with my younger self who loves her fantasy world.
I’ll still comfort her when she’s down. I won’t be ruthless with her emotions. But I will be a little more ruthless with her attempts to escape reality. I want to stop my mind from creating its own world so that I can see and live in the one in front of me.
. . .
I’m already finding myself more productive, not laying in bed for hours anymore. Because there’s nothing to do now that I’m not telling my stories.
So I got up and wrote this instead.
Ruthless.
If you like what you’re reading and want it delivered directly to your inbox, email me at rachel.ratliff@gmail.com with the word “subscribe.”
