Stepping Off of my 33 Year Old Throne
My best friend often screens shots her horoscope a la Chani Nichols and texts it to me, to make sure we are in sync and I know what is up. Every time she does this, I rush to my inbox to find my own horoscope and lean on the stars for insight and a different take on life.
A couple of weeks ago, around the time of the eclipse (cue emotional shit show), I got a note about shedding old habits that were going to creep back in and a nod to really get grounded in all realms of my life.
So I got real literal with the stars and truth, I went a little cray. I have four pages in a journal with the word FEMINIST on the front that lists ALL of my old habits that used to wreck me (and others). I meditated on what I needed to release and almost started to listen a little too deep to that darkness, as if I were calling the old habits back in to prove a point.
Probably not what the horoscope meant...
And yet in doing so, I realized these past few weeks that I have really been judging my past selves, because as you know, there are many versions that I have grown out of. I have been making my teen self wrong for that one pattern of self sabotage, I have been making my twenty-something self wrong for those moments of debauchery or human error induced by alcohol and I have been making my early thirty something self wrong for those moments of insecurity, doubt and fear.
Sitting here on my 33 year old throne preaching and pointing fingers and passing judgement and thinking I am so much better than those younger versions.
My younger version self was when she really was doing the best she could with what she had, with what she knew at that time. My younger version self that was throwing herself into all the chaos in hopes to find what worked, answering the question of what love means to me and even letting someone show me? When I was out there, really out there exploring all the risks in order to know the truth. My younger version self that was so fun, a weird definition of feminist, a bit frenetic and highly emotional with a lot of walls.
Up here on my throne at 33, I forget that all of those girls live within me. Still. They are me and I am them. Still.
I can choose to judge or I can choose to honor every lesson, every mistake, every emotional moment that taught me who I am in this very moment.
I have the choice to love so deeply all the parts of me.
And oh. I see. There in that choice lies the shedding.
I realize it wasn't the shedding of the actual habits that needed to take place, yet more of the emotional grasp and judgmental tone I was taking with them. Honoring them all and knowing choice of all the habits and rituals and versions of myself.
Oh that sweet nectar of choice.
And here I go, growing up again. Funny how it feels like stepping off the throne and sitting down with all of me right here in the dirt.