Part 4 -Making meaning through self expression

Better out than in, right?

Welcome to Part 4. How many parts are there? Who knows? Let’s just go with the flow, shall we?

Your eyes, your ears, your loving comments, your attention and in some cases, your financial support of this publication are so incredibly valued. It takes an incredible amount of time and energy to pour these stories onto the page. And being a parent, time is not something I have much of.

TBH, I would do it regardless, but knowing that you’re out there, receiving my words, makes it all the sweeter.

If you need a recap, you can find Part 1, Part 2 and Part 3 on my substack dashboard or via those links.

If you’re just chomping at the bit, read on dear friend and please - let me know your thoughts, feelings or reflections in the comments below.

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I have followed Amie McNee for a long time now and we’ve been friends since 2019. I think it started when she reached out to me about a podcast episode where I told my story. Her words soothed me then, and have done so many times since. She has taught me (and thousands of others) so much about the online world, running a business, creativity and more.

I have oft messaged her from the darkness of a personal crisis. Her replies are always delicate, considered and reverent.

I think it’s important for your work, to at least know what you think, and to have it articulated in a way that makes sense for you and what you’re doing and that makes you feel safe.

Sage. Wholesome. Supportive.

What a blessing these words were. Like a balm on a burn. Easing my fire without glossing over or infantilising the pain I was feeling or the significance of the scarring that would likely follow.

She prompted me to write about the pain we all feel when someone we’ve looked up to says or does something that flies in the face of everything we have been led to believe and shakes us at the level of our personal identity.

That’s one of the most acute pains there is.

She was right.

She told me a story of a similar experience she had with an author she looked up to and how it rocked her perspective. That moment, I felt the sadness shift. I have grown so much as a person in the last 10 years, through coaching, personal development, (trauma) and with NLP. A part of my 360 has been learning that I don’t always need to turn my experiences into a life lesson, but for me to make meaning through some form of expression - it’s essential.

Writing has, is and will always be a means of therapy for me. An outlet. A way for me to put words and meaning to sense and feeling. Often I don’t truly understand myself or my place, until I have translated it, made it real, by putting pen to paper.

Or, as is in this case, tapping away at a laptop. (Though I have always been more drawn to the cursive persuasion.)

Sometimes it’s hard fought and drawn out. Words. Don’t. Flow. I get stuck in the stickiness. (Lethalogica; the word for when you can’t find the word.)

Other times, the words gush. My brain and my fingers hop, skip, stepping and tripping over one another as they pour thick and fast from what ever wounded bracing or tender heart swell state I find myself in.

And in that I meet you in the present moment, dear friend.

Still somewhat sickly. Still wrapped up on the couch in my sons fleecy blanket.

Feeling grateful for this moment where Otis and my husband Nathan, are asleep. Both snotty, sorry for themselves and somewhat sullen. When I turn the TV down I can hear them snoring, in almost perfect unison, from their respective rooms. Since I began writing this solipsistic story of my experience, more than 4 weeks have passed. (I was writing this a few weeks before I pressed send).

In those four weeks I’ve been thrown into a darkness around my life, my values, my parenting, my family, my work, my purpose, my business and my self identity. I’m still feeling around in that darkness. It’s not a sad darkness, but it’s not a hopeful one either. It’s not numb. I guess it’s a nothing.

I’m sitting in the nothing with Gmork (IYKYK) waiting to see what happens next.

What I do know is, Part 4 is where we find the lesson.

It’s that bit in the book where your plucky, yet determined heroine finally understands the purpose of the trial or challenges that’s befallen them.

No longer jaded or caught up in questioning oh woe, why me?

Now is the part where we come to terms, integrate, rehabilitate and move on.

This is how we grow. It’s also why I see myself as a leader (at times). My capacity to transmute experiences has, in the past, been helpful to others and I hope it’s helpful to you now.

Part 4 has been the most difficult to write. There are many things I want to say to you in this moment. So many, in fact, I’ve been stuck on pause for which comes first. For sanity sake and in the pursuit of clarity we’re going to number each one and simply go from there.

1. Your feelings are the realest thing you have.

There’s a quote from a podcast I’ve listened to over and over again. You can hear it here. It’s a conversation between Lewis Howes (The School of Greatness Podcast) and Marissa Peer (psychotherapist).

It’s something I think about a lot and I have sent the link to this poddy more times than I can count. You need to feel the feelings, until they no longer require to be felt. I know for a fact, from my work in social work, fitness and later in coaching, that one of the biggest causes of distress amongst the women I know is trying to convince ourselves that we either don’t or shouldn’t feel how we feel.

Many a late night conversation has been had with friends, colleagues or clients over whatsap where someone inevitably says to me… “I just wish I didn’t feel that way.” Of course, in coaching and personal development spaces we often talk about being able to choose how we feel, or make a decision as to whether or not we feel a certain way - I’m not sure I believe in that the way I once did. Or perhaps I know now that it’s not that simple.

Instead, I try to stay true to the belief that our feelings are a barometer.

Our feelings are a compass.

They point to where we need to do work, where we need to pay attention, where we are hurting. They point to experiences that are not resolved within us. They are, as Marissa puts in the podcast, the toddler at the supermarket pulling at our sleeve asking for a treat. Ignore them at your own peril.

When we do however, treat ourselves with compassion, when we meet our feelings with empathy, with curiosity, with reverence, when we show them love and care and tenderness and seek to understand them versus avoid or suppress, we have the best chance of processing those feelings. Of moving forward. Of letting go.

Ne’er a tiny toddler tantrum that’s been avoided by simply pretending it wasn’t happening. Your feelings are the truest thing you have. They may at times be misdirected. They may be confused. But they are you.

They are the manifestation, or the translation of your experiences and they need to be processed, else you live a doomed experience; a wasted half life.

Dipping only your toes in the water, but never diving in for fear of the raft of sensation waiting for you in the darkness, the behemoth beneath the break.

One of the greatest things I’ve learned in the last 10 years and something that has spoken to me so deeply through the process of writing this to you, has been the need to express how I am feeling.

It doesn’t have to be to the person that hurt me.

It doesn’t have to be public.

It doesn’t have to be anything in particular.

But it does have to be.

It has to exist.

I need to honour its arrival; the lighting up of sensations through my mind and body.

I need to sit down and write; integrate, ruminate and digest the information.

I need to express it. Alone and to a tree in the forest, or to 150 of my closest friends on substack.

Or to the world.

It doesn’t matter.

I need to feel the feelings until they no longer require to be felt.

And so I think, dear friend, that's where I’ll leave things today. I have a few more take aways that I’m going to share with you, but in the meantime, I’d love to know in the comments, anything you’d like to express yourself, since reading this.

When was the last time you met yourself with tenderness?

When was the last time you showed yourself and your feelings the reverence you show others?

When was the last time you listened to how you were feeling, sat down with yourself (perhaps even looked yourself in the eye) and expressed a gentle curiosity?

Feel the feeling until it no longer requires to be felt.

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