Listening to myself sometimes is an irrational, inexplicable, weird thing.
How could I ever explain those hard-to-touch sensations in my stomach, which restrain me to say “yes” to something or someone? Oh, I trespassed this silent companion so many times, and then hurt myself so deep that I have no patience more, nor time, or rather I don’t have this lazy unconscious luxury that I could chose to stay deaf to my own self.
Listening to myself and accepting, acknowledging whatever raises from the depths of the self is a courageous act, like taking the red pill in the Matrix. It’s to decide to stand for myself even if I am aware of some different expectations, desires from others, and I stand my ground. It’s to stand for my truth, beyond wanting to please everyone around.
And this is why to listen to myself sometimes breaks my heart, as I am stubborn like a donkey once I received the message from within, and most of the times it’s a question of either-or. Either I follow my self, and I hurt someone saying “no”; or, I don’t respect my boundaries which I can feel very clearly, and I let myself be convinced; only to feel shit very soon. Because I knew what I should be, and I didn’t follow, and I had the choice. Of course, there is a quite large territory to play with compromise and leave the comfort zone. Which is healthy, and is also part of my life. I refer here to those cases, where compromise is no longer a choice, and you need to decide which way to take. Moving forward, backward, sideways… you need to pick a direction. Toward or away.
For this same reason to listen to myself can be very uncomfortable. As it may happen that neither I can argue or explain why I decide and feel what I decide and feel. But at the end, yes, I realize that I was right. And then I feel grateful for having my silent companion, this deep self, this amazing beautiful being I can rely on and trust.
I know how it feels to bargain and let myself be convinced. I’ve been there, done that, too many times, far too many times – and I desire the peaceful wild forests and coolness of icy rocks like those high mountains that reflect a snowy sun even on a summer day. Summer is beautiful. The truant is healed, home; fairy tale-like princess blossomed from down under the scars and tattered clothes.
It is safe to trust your ground, your palace, your treasure, your inner voice. It is your choice.