It’s okay to feel weak, mentally and physically; your capacity or capabilities to function at top form adjust down or advance up, depending on situation or circumstance. Making the choice to get up and show up — no matter the state you’re in, the size or scope of your whole-body energy — is the ultimate show of physical and emotional strength.
It’s okay to stumble carelessly around a slippery tongue, not quite catching the wrong words or inappropriate tones before unlikely criticism or pessimism, directed inwards or outwards, falls recklessly from your mouth onto waiting ears. It’s even more okay to not speak at all and to let unspoken words fall away. No matter how you use it, casually or carefully, wisely or otherwise — your voice is important, your voice is valued and your voice is heard, moments of misspeaking included.
It’s okay to cry, to shower your soul; we bathe our bodies to rid ourselves of toxins and impurities, the grit and grime accumulated over the course of a difficult or demanding day. Same as the warm water falls from the faucet to cleanse our bodies, warm tears fall from tired eyes, releasing messy, dirty stress and worry, clearing our minds and rinsing clean our souls. Let it out.
It’s okay to feel thick, heavy sorrows — strong emotions holding you down deep in the muddy waters of confusion, hurt and despair. Sorrow is often felt most profoundly by soulful people who are keenly in-tune with what matters most: time well spent in connection with others or ourselves.
Special, life-giving connections happen through work or service to community, platonic or romantic relationships with friends, family or that “one” person, great health and wellness from a priority on whole-self care and opportunities for learning and exploring your world. It’s more than normal for feelings of discomfort or discontent to settle like rocks in the pits of empty souls, held down, if just one connection — a purposefully placed life preserver — is out of reach.
It’s okay; sorrow, sadness in its purist form, is the visceral reaction to appreciating, especially in absence, people, places or purposes that provides the most motivation and gratitude for living. In search of personal fulfillment, sorrow is either a pair of wings to rise higher or a set of anchors to stay in place. Choose wisely.
It’s okay to feel the fist-clenching frustrations of inability or ambiguity; lack of immediate clarity, innate skill or proficient understanding of certain tasks or topics can be one of the most colossal roadblocks preventing growth and forward-progress. It’s okay; in moments of sticky, stagnant duress, the strongest catapult forward is bravely and humbly calling-out questions and learning the lessons from those who were stopped first – but then kept momentum going strong.
It’s okay to fear the future, time felt but not seen, imagined but not yet experienced. It’s okay to fear the breath-stealing monster of overwhelm, feasting on souls, shaken, without certain confidence in what will or won’t happen in life. It’s okay to forfeit the guessing game, no one ever wins; trying, and failing, to figure out a story’s end before it’s been written is the universal curse of humanity.
The blessing is this: no matter the form anxiety takes — emotion as strong and unpredictable as howling winds, misguided speech or palpable silence, sinking fear or heart-slowing sadness — you can use all anxieties as powerful energies to keep moving blindly, yet boldly ahead.
It’s going to be okay.