There comes a time when you stress, angst and ponder over something so much it piles up, and this ONE. LASt, thing, become your tipping point, the last 30 pound bale that tips the whole boat over and you’re over it. you’re just done, you do the thing that you needed to do with zero angst and it’s like you just had to get over that point didn’t you?
To tony robbins therapy session these sound amazing (and to me hella entertaining). Here’s a few of my own:
1 drivings jitters
I drove a golf cart into a tree when I was in highschool, since then my family has been sort of hypnotising me with my incapacity to drive. I’m also not fond of mario kart or any driving games, I’m more of the harvest moon, walk around in pokemon type of gal. So driving scared the shit out of me. I delayed getting my students license for two years, and taking formal driving lessons was such a huge ordeal and energetically draining for me. I don’t even know. Mind you in the Philippines, people of a certain income bracket can afford househelp and personal drivers like India. Also traffic is level 9000.
I am in such a category and had no real need to learn to drive. I was a kind and obedient, home body loving geeky child and it took me a massive dose of adulting anxiety and ego differentiation to want to be able to leave the house on my own. My dad’s also pretty high up in the military so commuting is out of the question – even fucking uber isn’t allowed for me. CAN YOU PLEASE IMAGINE. MY. LIFE. I’m A PRINCESS, BUT ALSO #UGH. There was a moment that i just got so tired of all these and used some really strong angel codes with some damn CONVICTION.
I didn’t intend them for driving courage but the first impulse i had after writing them was that: I’m learning to drive now, and I’m getting my license before Christmas. The next week I drove to work almost everyday with the appropriate supervision. And unlike the anxiety of driving school i was just saying: I’m driving a metal horse. I have my phone plugged on the radio, and I’m using the car to cruise like those music videos, this is gay ass shit. I have a favorite gay character named ronan lynch who does illegal racecar driving and I’m just being as cool as ronan driving like a badass, and this is just gay ass shit.
I’m hyper aware when I social dance so I said I’m just social dancing with the flows of the other cars on the road. They’re not out to kill me. (TIP: ASSOCIATE some thing you don’t know with something you already are good and familiar with. for example tony robbins asked a basketball star to “teach a basketball class” instead of doing a public speaking engagement so his brain could latch on a different reference while doing the Scary Thing). It was effortless, I was done.
see this post > for a longer story about my previous unhealthy self body image. but this article is going to focus on clothes. there came a point when I snapped. I snapped with the insults my brother and mother always had for me with my choice of unfashionable outfits if in reality it was just an expression of the shame I had towards my physical self. Sounds shitty right ? IT WAS! My mom used to export and design clothes.
Every time I went out dancing I felt like I was taking finals trying to choose a remotely cool outfit (i was salsa dancing come on ), and i had to be emotionally prepared to dress up. I wasn’t comfortable with myself or how i looked and wow, I felt absolutely pathetic every time I accompanied my mom and brother in clothing shops because I felt absolutely inept at this thing, and it became a part of my identity. Oh she matches clothes kinda stupidly, like dad. I hated popular girls who were pretty , and skinny and had nice hair. And it was just a snowball of self-defeating self-hate pile/wormhole. Do you get the idea?
By the time I got into more dancing, meditation and my awakening. (i don’t even want to call it that but that’s like the closest description) I just totally dropped the experience. Even recalling it now was kind of difficult ? not cause I didn’t like it , but because I completely deleted it in my system?
My mom offered to buy me officewear and I just picked a lot of clothes off of racks one by one. Clothes I would never have dared go near at a year ago, and I even got full on dresses and loud printed bottoms and some interesting tops. Mind you, they weren’t the clothes my mom would pick for me – trying to fix me like she’s tried countless times (my brother has tried a grand total of twice).
I just didn’t give enough shits anymore and just wanted to dress better cause I felt better from the inside- and I wanted to reflect that outwardly. I felt like I was being more “me”. My mom was mildly confused but paid for it. I got my hair layered even more, dyed it, I got that glasses frame that i thought was too cool and daring for the likes of me, and just went “fuc it” and bought the frame with my own money. I splurged on gold gilded birch leaf earrings, and I felt like some odd shaman, and concurrently enjoy even odder designs of earrings.
I loved myself! if that’s a way to put it. And more often than not my mom now compliments me on my outfit choices with lowkey disbelief and an undertone of “im impressed”. We have different fashion styles, I’m more of a geeky hipster vibe and shes more of a modern badass look. I had a salsa hiatus my last year in college and when I went back with my hair down in a black pencil skirt , pumps and red tassle earrings – some of my dance friends didn’t recognize me!! They’re like – woah you’re hair is really nice why did you hide it all this time ?
“we don’t sing” is a common phrase in my family. “just make us dance instead, it’s like asking a fish to climb a tree”, and though I agree with the celebration of the variety of talents behind that statement there, is also a self defeating attitude.
When I was younger I used to compose songs. I used to pretend to be in an opera and sing from the balcony of my grandparent’s staircases imagining it to be a stage. I really really loved singing to my mp3 player, britney spears songs while jumping on the bed. I took singing lessons when I was 8, under a cousin of mine and I overheard my mom talking about her voice. How ate mamadge (different cousin) had a more naturally beautiful tone even though ate cha (my teacher) was formally trained. “some people just have the voice, the talent”. And it lodged into my tiny impressionable brain.
I pestered my mom – is my voice special ? does it sound nice ? is it pretty enough. Upto this day I recall the phases her face went through, pondering on wether to lie to me or not. ofcourse today she claims to not remember the incident, but I remember the day my mom told me my voice wasn’t special. I didn’t sing after that.
So let’s fast forward to awakening again. I’m obsessed with music. Music, sounds and movement are my primary ways to heal myself, and I can get lost in it for ages. My first deep meditation was a slight taste of marijuana(MJ) and listening to beyonce on a headset. (MJ heaviness is not as great as self induced relaxation mind you. but MJ can be a teacher of what your resting body is capable of). >> i became a really good dancer – in the real sense of the word. When music compelled you to move, when emotions swell inside you and your ego dissolves and loses all meaning. I knew how to channel energy and move it in and out and around my body while dancing..
Also. I wanted to sing (again). One of my good psychic friends, does shamanic drumming and chanting and I’m like HOW, YES< WHAT #GOALS PLEASE , WHERE ARE THE LESSONS ? sign ! Me! UP! And she was like, bebs, you know how channeling works, you let go. She was also insulted during highschool for not capable of holding a note. Now – I’m psychicly aware with how spiritual the notes her voice is making is. I’ve also since then learned to channel energy into instruments. Now channeling energy, via focused conscious awareness to the action or place – so my voice >??
I’d learn how to sing right ?
oh boy. this was literally , it was so fast – like a snap or a pen drop. I just SANG. I SANG. I SANG ALL NIGHT. It was so much fun! I’ve already obsessed with the artistry and the technique of singers and artists I admire. I’m an empath and can actually viscerally sense the intent behind their songs, how real they are, how sincere they are when they coo those notes. That’s what makes the art , that’s the secret stuff of love that will send chills straight to the marrow of your bones. And i channeled! I trained my ear to detect when energy was flowing better through my windpipes when the notes resonated not just to aesthetic ears, but to my soul.
I acted out all the concerts I did in my head as a kid – and just like nothing I sang in front of my brother, my mom – even my dad ! And they’re like we don’t sing. but maalia can sort of hold a note. and that’s just the new quo. Maalia, bursts into song occasionally when dancing or exercising or listening to music, just like the people she was jealous of in highschool but is now unafraid to go kareoke full on jamming with. I like singing to myself, like a love song just for me, or to my guides and lost flames who hear the things I whisper in my soul.
It’s really relaxing. I’m not up for performing or anything like that , but i got over a huge #NO, that i lived with in my life and I’m not just proud but feel so much LIGTHER because of that. These are the kind of things that just snap into place in the ‘awakening process’ and these were the swtiches that just flipped in an instant for me. last thirty pound barrel and I was over it.
had your own last bale experience ? tell me about it in the comments, no for real. By the way I’m using that term because of the rumi quote/poem: “love is the last thirty-pound bale, when you load it on, the boat tips over.”
an explosion of love does indeed feel like all your fears are just zapped out of power..
til next time