What If She Was Always There?

Dear beautiful soul,

There is something strange about coming home from a trip that changed you.

You unpack the suitcase.

Wash the clothes.

Put the passport away.

And remarkably quickly, the life you left behind starts asking you to become the person you were before you went. The emails are waiting. The laundry needs doing. There are people who need things from you. There are decisions to make and schedules to keep and all the tiny responsibilities that make up an ordinary life.

And if you're not careful, the woman who felt so alive somewhere else can start to feel like someone you visited.

I've been thinking about that a lot lately.

Because I don't think I came home from a recent trip to Spain as a different woman. I think I met a woman who had been there all along.

She laughed loudly.

She wandered without needing to know exactly where she was going.

She stayed out too late.

She danced.

She flirted.

She sat quietly with coffee and watched the world go by.

She wore things because they made her feel beautiful.

She let herself change plans.

She rested without first producing enough evidence that she'd earned it.

And perhaps most importantly, she enjoyed her own company.

None of those things sound particularly revolutionary.

But for me, some of them were.

Because somewhere along the way, I became very good at being useful.

Capable.

Responsible.

Productive.

The woman who could figure it out.

The woman who could carry it.

The woman who would get everything done and then, if there was enough time left over, give herself whatever remained.

I didn't consciously choose to become her.

She was built slowly.

One responsibility at a time. One expectation at a time. One I'll do it at a time. Until eventually I mistook her for me.

And maybe that's one of the strangest parts of becoming. Sometimes we think we need to reinvent ourselves when what we really need is enough space to notice what we've buried underneath everything we've learned to be. I don't want to recreate Spain at home. I don't need tequila shots on a Tuesday or to stay out dancing until three in the morning. That's not the point.

I want to understand what made that woman possible.

Space.

Curiosity.

Pleasure.

Rest.

Play.

The absence of constant performance.

Permission to ask, What do I feel like doing? instead of What should I be doing?

Those things don't belong to vacation. They belong to me.

And perhaps there is something in your life that belongs to you, too. Something you've mistaken for a version of yourself that disappeared. Maybe you're softer than you've allowed yourself to be.

Maybe you're louder.

More sensual.

More creative.

More adventurous.

More ambitious.

Maybe you want more solitude.

More friendship.

More laughter.

Maybe there's something you used to love that you've quietly stopped doing.

Or maybe you can't remember her clearly yet.

That's okay too.

You don't have to reinvent yourself this Sunday.

Maybe just get curious.

Who are you when nobody needs anything from you?

And then perhaps an even better question:

What would it look like to let a little more of her into your ordinary life?

I'm asking myself that one too.

And what else?

With love,

Cheryl

Founder, Sacred Soul