october journal, entry {eighteen}

I am learning a rather interesting thing these days; my parents voices are echo'ing in my brain the childhood saying that was repeatedly told me,

"Kori, it's not what you say -- it's how you say it." 

I have always come across bitchier and harsher than I intend from my tone of voice to my choice of words to the eye looks and glares I give -- without even knowing it. My perception can be so different from what I am giving off. There is certainly a time and place for the fiesty-powerful-advocate voice I have; but when is it time to soften? When is it time to surrender? 

And here in lays my greatest work of all -- the work I continue to show up to the plate with, the work I continue to explore, talk about... and alas -- fuck up left right and centre. 

Staying soft and open and vulnerable is especially challenging for me. Sometimes I run out of patience trying to be patient and every single time that happens I become sharp, distant and cold. Walls surround my heart faster than a blink of an eye and life becomes a race in my mind -- a race of standards and expectations -- nothing is good enough. It's bad enough when this mind-set ozzes into all the crevasses of my entire being... but when it leaks out into the humans I love the most; well shit gets messy and hearts get hurt. 

Sometimes I wish I could just be different, you know? Softer. More delicate. Just, less harsh. But then, these shadow elements are always our greatest gift -- the 'curseblessing' as I like to call it. These are our golden opportunities to truly call of self-compassion, self-forgiveness and self-awareness; this means we have to hear the hard truths from the brave people in our lives (just like the courageous friend I had earlier this month who shared her truths with me); it means we have to be willing to look in the mirror and shed that which is no longer serving us -- protecting my heart with walls, distance, cold blood, anger, un-achievable expectations (for self and others)... is simply no longer working in my life -- what the fuck am I protecting myself from? 

Hurt?

The isolation from the protection hurts more than the hurt ever could. 

And so here I am again -- a little type A, a little more masculine oriented, a recovering perfectionist and a trying-to-be-recovering "ice queen" -- I want to recover from this one more than anything. I do not really think there is such a thing as a "full recovery", but I want this piece of me to be a piece I make peace with -- a piece I can thank and then burn and let go of. 

The process is always the same: one foot and then the next. I place my hand on my heart and just allow the tears to flow while I find the soft places in me, the places that are scared and hiding and covered in the hardest shells -- the places that are longing so fucking bad to be seen and healed and held. No one can do this for me -- no one can hunt those pieces down and heal them for me -- I have to allow myself the grace of softness, the bravery of vulnerability and the tenacity of dedicated self-compassion. I also have to call on courage to allow these pieces -- the broken, untrusting pieces of my soul -- to be seen by the humans I trust the most... I must become nudie toodie vulnerable. 

It hurts to look in the mirror and see the wounds so boldly and so painfully and yet, it is such a necessary step in the process of becoming lighter and softer and more self-connected and -- of course -- connected to the humans closest to me in my life.

Balancing the {divine feminine} with my very active {divine masculine} is sort of a do or die thing for me -- my connection to self, others and the planet literally depends on it. 

& so the work continues.

One foot -- then the next... & repeat. 

more october journals...