tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-84113687391231319722024-03-13T22:40:29.630-07:00Manolos to Asolos“Live your life from your heart. Share from your heart. And your story will touch and heal people's souls.” -Melody BeattieSarah Rumseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09342531912741902880noreply@blogger.comBlogger907125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411368739123131972.post-71252445388855306692019-10-30T16:15:00.000-07:002019-10-30T16:16:02.232-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I was reading an Instagram post the other day and I really wish I could remember which one it was because I would link it here if I could. It depicted a mother nursing. The mother described herself as exhausted, disheveled and certainly not beautiful. An older woman saw her, approached her and told her that moms during this stage are the most beautiful. The nursing mom was quizzical. The older woman said, you are the most beautiful you've ever been because this is pure love. I feel like I am butchering this right now because it was deeper and more thoughtful than what I am describing now, but it really made me stop and think about how society portrays moms. If you lose all your "baby weight" quickly and seemingly look like you have it together than that is something to be proud of, but if you don't well then, you better get it together. This thinking is so exhausting and it is absolute bullshit. For the most part, the weight fell off fairly quickly for me, but that didn't mean I was nourishing myself. I also tried to get dressed and get back to "myself" the day we got home from the hospital. I tried to keep up with all the housework and make smoothies for Noah in the morning before he left for work; but, I just ended up really exhausted and really resentful because nothing that I was doing felt in alignment with what was happening inside of me. Inside of me, I didn't feel the same. I knew that I wasn't the same, but for the first few weeks of Ethan's life, I was running on adrenaline and determined to not let motherhood change me. Looking back, I did this subconsciously and around the time he turned a month old I hit a wall and I've kept hitting this wall over and over again because I have failed to acknowledge that motherhood changes you. It just does and there is no way around it to my knowledge. Motherhood is the purest form of love. There is nothing that our children could do that would make us as parents stop loving them. That is the closest thing to God's love I think we will ever feel here on earth. It's intense, raw, emotional, scary and vulnerable to love something so much because there is a lot that we can't control. We spend our time as parents pouring into our kids hoping to give them and help them have a full life. Our bodies, in my opinion are just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the changes. I mean being put in charge of someone's wellbeing who you love so much you would give your life for, I think that's the big one. But it's easier...<br />
It's easier to talk about appearances.<br />
It's much more challenging to talk about the pure love and the sacrifices, fear, joy, excitement, hope, pain and love that come with it. I think that's what makes it so hard and so beautiful all at the same time.<br />
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So mamas just remember, no matter how it looks, the pure love you're giving your kids every day is beautiful no matter how you look or how it looks.<br />
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I think a prayer for myself is to remember that every single day, because now as I sit here scarfing down oatmeal before picking up Ethan from his nap,<br />
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Sarah Rumseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09342531912741902880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411368739123131972.post-32488570785033432972019-10-29T05:30:00.000-07:002019-10-29T10:58:30.224-07:00Ethan's Birth Story<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I think we write birth stories more for ourselves than others. There is so much to process and everything goes by so fast that it is only now, here, seven months later that I am able to sit down and tell the best story that I have ever lived out and that is Ethan's birth story.<br />
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It was a Thursday, March 14th. I woke up that morning and I had a lot of pressure down in my pelvis. I had a really packed schedule that day and I had back to back sessions with clients. That morning, I was sitting in on a group session and I felt so uncomfortable that I kept feeling like I needed to stand up and walk around. It was such an odd feeling. It felt heavy in my pelvis and somewhat achey!<br />
I kept trying to move around in my seat, trying to get comfortable, but nothing was working. Finally the session ended (it was an hour and it felt like 4 hours), I had a little bit of time before going to another session so I ran to Walgreens and stocked up on all the things I had read that I would need for the hospital and after the hospital postpartum. I was approaching my 39th week and hadn't done that yet, but after the session I just had this weird feeling I needed to go get these things, but at the time of course I couldn't put my finger on why. </div>
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The pressure I had been feeling had seemingly gone away. I had a doctor's appointment that day at 3pm. My mom went with me because Noah couldn't make it. I wasn't dilated and my cervix wasn't thinning, so by all the signs, Mr. Ethan was going to take his time; however, I still had a weird feeling that I just couldn't shake, but with the doctor's assurance that it still might be a little while, I didn't think anything about it. </div>
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After my 3pm doctor's appointment I had back-to-back sessions with clients and I had just gotten off the phone with a friend before my 6pm client arrived telling her that my doctor still thinks it is going to be awhile. Little did I know, sitting in session with a couple, I would not make it out of that session saying the same thing. At 6:30pm I felt warm liquid beginning to fill my underwear. I thought I was peeing myself a little bit at first (which, was kinda normal at this point) so I continued the session. Then there was more and more liquid and I thought to myself, <i>oh my gosh, I really can't stop peeing! Something must be wrong! </i>Three minutes or so later, I was sitting in a puddle of water. Luckily, I had been seeing these clients for about a year and was comfortable with them, but at this point, I still wasn't sure if I was just peeing myself or if my water was breaking so I was a little embarrassed. </div>
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I will never forget them sitting across from me as I tried to find a way to interrupt the session casually to say, "ugh, guys, I'm really sorry, but I think my water is breaking." The wife came around and she said, "Yep, your water is breaking." She ran and got me paper towels and brought me my bag so I could call Noah. </div>
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At this point, I had no idea what to think. I thought that maybe something was wrong. I called Noah and he was in the middle of a house project/working out. I told him that I thought my water was breaking. After I got off the phone with Noah, I called my parents. </div>
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I then just sat in the chair not really knowing what to do. The husband of the couple could not have been more excited for me. He assured me that everything would be okay and that I was okay. </div>
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They offered to take me to the hospital, so I proceeded to gather up my stuff and walk down the hallway. I was wearing black pants so luckily, the fluid all over me was somewhat discreet. I felt like I had toilet paper attached to my shoe because I could feel everyone looking at me as I walked down the hall. </div>
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My supervisor/professor stepped out of his office and after going back and forth trying to decide who would take me, we finally decided that he would. I didn't want to ruin the seats of his new car. He laughed and said it would be fine. I sent my professor an email on the way to the hospital saying that my paper due Sunday might be late. Then I called Noah. He couldn't believe I was on the way to the hospital. LOL. He didn't know what to think, nor did I! Luckily, I had some pj's laid out and some of my stuff for the hospital from Walgreens that morning out on the table. </div>
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Once we arrived at the hospital, I filled out paperwork (I think) and then they put me in an observation room. The nurses couldn't figure out if my water had actually broken so I sat there for awhile while they checked me and checked me again. My parents stopped by, Noah's parents stopped by. I couldn't eat but they had brought Noah some dinner. I tried to do homework while we were in the observation room (what was I thinking)? I clearly couldn't focus, but I had a paper due on Sunday and still needed to read the book for it. Whoops!<br />
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I think it might have been around 8pm that they finally checked me into a room. They hooked me up with an IV full of fluids.</div>
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The contractions started a little later that evening. They started slow and mild. I had Noah's parents tell me when the contractions were coming so I knew if I was experiencing this pain for a reason. I still couldn't believe I was in labor! </div>
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They left around 10:30pm and once they left my contractions really got going. I labored all night without any medication. It was exhausting and it was so odd not having a doctor there. It was really Noah and I just in there alone. I still kept thinking, am I in labor? Is this supposed to feel this way? I asked for a medicine ball and thank God I did because it was EVERYTHING! Throughout that night I bounced on the ball and Noah and I walked the halls. Movement was so helpful.<br />
Eventually though, the nurses had me get into bed and stay there because the strap around my belly to measure Ethan's heartbeat kept slipping.<br />
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I kept watching the clock at this point. I knew at 5:30am they were going to start me on Pitocin to really get things moving... </div>
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Like clockwork, at 5:30am they started me on Pitocin and guys... I was in bed and the contractions started to feel unbearable. </div>
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Am I alone when I say that Pitocin is no joke? My contractions started coming every 2 minutes and they were so intense. I was getting very tired by this point and the contractions felt like a jack hammer. My whole body was starting to shake and I was exhausted. The nurses kept asking me if I wanted medicine but I couldn't decide. <i>Finally</i> (an hour after the Pitocin), at 6:30am, I decided to take the epidural. Whew. After the epidural, it was pretty smooth sailing. Noah's parents came that morning around 8:30am and mine did too. I was able to enjoy them all. </div>
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By 11am I was fully dilated and it was time to push, but at one point they had to slow down my labor to wait for the doctor to get out of a c-section in order for me to deliver. They slowed me down so much that when it finally came time to push, I wasn't having a contraction and every time I would push, Ethan's heart rate would drop. I remember thinking: for one thing, I don't really know how to push and another, Ethan and I have come this far so we've got to do this thing. It was just me and Noah + the doctor in the room, but a little while later there were nurses that started to pile in the room. I didn't really know what was going on at the time, but they were in there ready for an emergency-c section just in case I needed to have one. </div>
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I kept trying to push, but I wasn't still wasn't sure I was doing it right. At one point, I laughed and that's how I figured out the muscles I needed to engage to push. </div>
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So, I told Ethan to trust me and I pushed. </div>
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11:45am he showed up and my world has not been the same and I know it will never be the same. </div>
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Noah and I decided to take an hour by ourselves with Ethan right after he was born, so our family had to wait to meet him! As soon as they put him on my chest, I had colostrum coming out of me, so I fed him and had the lactation specialist check to see if there were any concerns.<br />
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I am so grateful that Ethan latched easily, but what I didn't expect was him not wanting to take a bottle until he was 4 months (maybe that is another post)! I have heard everything about nipple confusion, etc., but never had I heard of a baby not taking a bottle! The things you don't think of until you're a mom... my goodness! That list is long.<br />
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In hindsight, I wish I would have known more going into birth, but at the same time, I feel like if I would have known more of what to expect, I would have worried/anticipated more. Since I wasn't expecting Ethan to come when he did, I was just sort of in the moment of it all (not really knowing what was going on)!<br />
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I know everyone's birth story is different, unique, personal.<br />
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I just wanted to share mine to process it because I think the moment our baby arrives we are sort of swept up in the immersion that comes from this newfound role of motherhood. Stepping back and remembering that day helps me to integrate life before Ethan and life now.<br />
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I don't really have any advice (gasp, I know that is a dreaded word), but I do wish I had packed a hospital bag sooner. Note to self: pack hospital bag just in case!<br />
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I will say that I thought I would be more afraid. I thought I would be afraid when I went into labor. I thought I would be afraid when I started to push. I thought I would be afraid when they told me I might need an emergency c-section. I wasn't afraid. I knew that no matter what, everything was really out of my control and all I could do was try to talk to Ethan and connect with him so that we could do this birth thing together. It was the most powerful experience because at the end of the day, the process of birth is ultimately surrendering every expectation we have so that we can do what we need to do in order to take care of ourselves and our baby. I find myself still needing to do that every single day.<br />
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I think that birth is the most powerful teacher and initiation into motherhood, because although we can prepare for it, we can't really plan it.<br />
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I wish that is what someone would have told me while I was pregnant.<br />
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Prepare for birth, but don't try to plan it, instead just be present, breathe and let go. </div>
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Sarah Rumseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09342531912741902880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411368739123131972.post-7660948911322289202019-10-28T07:36:00.000-07:002019-10-28T07:37:38.555-07:00Tales of a Sleep-Deprived New Mom<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It's probably the fourth time I have re-heated my coffee (decaf) this morning. Yes, I am drinking decaf and pretending like it isn't. Why? Nursing.<br />
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Guys, this weekend was a doozy. I have been nursing some sort of cold and because of that, I wasn't able to sleep on Friday night. I thought it might be decreasing my milk supply after trying to pump around 9pm after feeding E at 7pm. We just adjusted his sleep time to help us transition into the fall time change. When I pumped for 5 minutes and got nothing but drips, I began to fully panic. I laid in bed that night wondering if Ethan was starving. Wondering if he had gotten enough food. I went through all these scenarios in my head and thought about the research I've done on formula. Although, I've looked at plenty and debated many times to start formula, I haven't ever been able to decide on one, so I've kept going. Finally, around 3 am I got out of bed and pumped after not being able to sleep a wink. I pumped over 8 ounces.<br />
I then proceeded to lay on the couch and watch Gilmore Girls because I couldn't handle going upstairs to see my soundly sleeping husband. I had already woken him up at 2am in my panic. I didn't want to risk the urge of waking him again.<br />
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As the credit for Gilmore Girls started I finally fell asleep.<br />
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E slept through the night, but I did not.<br />
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Now, let's talk about last night. For the first time in the 7 months since Ethan has been alive we had him out past bedtime and didn't do a bath. We were determined parents who didn't want to let a schedule run their lives... Ha!<br />
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We got home, did pj's... he went to sleep. He woke up at 10pm, then at 11pm and I got up with him around 11:30pm. Then he woke again about 5:15am. I waited until 5:30, then nursed him. He didn't want to go back down, so I got up with him. By 6:30am he was ready to go back to sleep, I nursed him, put him down, climbed back in bed only to put my head against my pillow completely awake. I tried to close my eyes, to relax, but I was awake. 7:15am my husband's alarm went off. Shortly after, E woke up. My husband went to get him and told me to stay in bed. I tried. I tried to sleep, but I could hear them downstairs.<br />
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So, I got up and here I am, re-heating my coffee. In the mix between my frustration, bad thoughts, anger and delirium, somewhere I found gratitude. Gratitude for this healthy boy. Gratitude for being chosen to be his mom. Gratitude. But it's not easy.<br />
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Now he's up for his nap, which was only 30 minutes and my intention today is just to make the most of it.<br />
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I know I can't be alone when it comes to the absolute mix of emotions that come with being a new mom. A lot of people write about it and talk about it, but we still often feel alone, because we are in our houses or going to work and having to in some way keep it all together.<br />
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So for those mamas out there, getting up with their babies, doing their thing, re-heating coffee...<br />
respect. Moms are superheroes. You are a superhero. Remember that today. </div>
Sarah Rumseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09342531912741902880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411368739123131972.post-31993022779591001172019-10-25T07:24:00.003-07:002019-10-25T07:28:18.009-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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This. Because life as a new mom feels overwhelming sometimes.</div>
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Currently dreaming about an organized pantry. I have every intention of modeling my life after <a href="https://thehomeedit.com/">The Home Edit</a>.<br />
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Give me all the basics: <a href="https://camillestyles.com/">camillestyles.com </a></div>
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I am going to pretend like it hasn't been months since I've written.<br />
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It's finally feeling like fall here and as the grey clouds cover the morning sky, I am so grateful for the cooler weather. The summer heat was significantly noticeable this year with Ethan and now that I don't have to reach in to get him out of his car seat only to feel his warm little sticky skin, I am sighing relief. The cool weather just makes it so much easier! E is now 7 months old! I can't believe it. He started sitting and crawling at 6 months so he's now on a mission to stand. He works so hard on it every day and his personality is really beginning to come through as he manages the task of learning. He is persistent! It's so much fun to watch him grow, but boy I have my moments. On Sunday night, we had thunderstorms starting at 1am. Our golden retriever is terrified of storms so we always put her up on our bed. She shook and panted till about 3am and then E woke up around 4am so this mama didn't get any sleep!<br />
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Thankfully, the past few days we've been putting him down later and he's been sleeping until a little after 6. Phew. I also went to bed around 8:15 last night and woke only when I realized I hadn't pumped yet which was around 10:15. Today, I feel like a new human.<br />
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What a difference sleep makes!<br />
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I am going to leave this blog post here with all the things inspiring me right now, because why not?! :)<br />
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Sarah Rumseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09342531912741902880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411368739123131972.post-47110571644574822632019-06-05T08:00:00.004-07:002019-06-05T08:00:37.517-07:00For the Mama Heart<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Sarah Rumseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09342531912741902880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411368739123131972.post-8035635365432748192019-06-05T06:16:00.000-07:002019-06-05T08:01:25.755-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I hear it. The underground support group that is equivalent in strength to a million armies. It's the group that works hard 24/7. They are always on call and their nickname is "mom". That's right, I now understand the reason why this strong support group exists. As I stood and talked to other moms on Saturday we laughed about our husbands being half-awake in the middle of the night, while we are fully awake, sitting in a chair, feeding. We talked about sleep training, attachment styles, bottles, in-laws, and all those things that become a topic when you become a parent. It's interesting right? It is as if you are going along one day with your priorities and then suddenly all of that shifts and now comes the task of prioritizing the little soul/person that has shown up in your life, along with all the other things you were prioritizing before... at least that is the expectation. The unmeetable expectation that I think all moms place on themselves. It's as if we feel this need to keep continuing with the life we had pre-baby, but also figure out how to take care of a baby and fit that baby into a life that is forever changed. I think my mom must have been really good at this, but me, not so much. As I sit here and I type I have just gotten finished with an assignment for one of my classes and I am listening to Ethan on the monitor. Yes, I am sitting here listening because I am not sure if he will go back to sleep or not. That is the constant question right? Do I need to go get him? Should I let him try to sleep more because I know he is tired? Do I need to nurse him? Change him? Why is he making that face? Is he hurting? Does he have gas? Is he constipated? Is he eating enough? Is it normal for him to be doing *fill in the blank. Oh my goodness, I am exhausted just typing that. But can anyone else relate? It's a constant ever-shifting puzzle and there is no room for perfection, because that's not how this thing works. No. This parenting stuff, I am pretty sure it's impossible to think that anything could ever be perfect. So, here I sit. It's taken me about a week to write this post from start to finish, but here we are... and in all its messiness right now, life is pretty good.<br />
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I have this thought that our kids have more wisdom than we do and they are actually sent as teachers. With that being said, I think our job is to tune in and listen, while putting aside all of our expectations; including, stressing over things like breastfed or formula fed, sleep training or co-sleeping, and being preoccupied with things like milestones.<br />
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I think it's easier said than done, right?<br />
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Thank goodness we all have each other, because this mom thing is a journey.</div>
Sarah Rumseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09342531912741902880noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411368739123131972.post-89573108950172661632019-05-20T12:23:00.000-07:002019-05-20T12:25:37.097-07:00What does it feel like?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I think as humans we really want to know what something feels like. This is how we connect, this how we engage, this is how we empathize, and create negotiations where we slowly begin to define ourselves, our experiences and our world.<br />
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We're curious by nature. We want to know what it feels like to fall in love so when we are young we read stories and then try to fit that image into our hearts in hopes that it will somehow turn out the way we had pictured it. We want to know what it feels like to be fulfilled so we read books about it in hopes that we can have this feeling too. I know after being pregnant that before I got pregnant I wanted to know what it felt like. I asked women before me who have been pregnant before, and same with being a mom; however, for the first time ever, no one has been able to accurately describe what it feels like to be a mom or to have been pregnant.<br />
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There are also times in life where we don't want to know what it feels like so we don't ask. What does it feel like to lose something you love? What does it feel like to be disappointed? What does it feel like to not make it? To fail? We often don't necessarily want to know what these things feel like, even though we ALL experience these aspects of life. I think that's why for the most part when we are going through them, we often feel alone. Maybe those select few who "have been" there reach out, but for the most part, more often than not, we experience these parts of life quietly.<br />
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So, I think the best question we can ask our family, our friends, the people we care about, the people we don't know, even the things we are quick to judge is "what does it feel like?"<br />
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What does it feel like to be you, right now as you are?<br />
Does it feel scary?<br />
Empowering?<br />
Steady?<br />
Shaky?<br />
Messy?<br />
Controlled?<br />
Loved?<br />
Unloved?<br />
Deep?<br />
Shallow?<br />
Thick?<br />
Thin?<br />
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Does it feel tangible?<br />
Does it feel new?<br />
Different?<br />
Familiar?<br />
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What does it feel like to be you? </div>
Sarah Rumseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09342531912741902880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411368739123131972.post-67275770425312392822019-05-20T12:01:00.002-07:002019-05-20T12:04:50.118-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Wow, it's been over a year since I have visited this page. I knew it had been awhile, but I had no idea just how long it had been-- too long. I currently have spit up in my hair (yep, full mom-mode) and I'm sitting here in my pajamas, drinking decaf coffee while my two-month-old son naps. It's weird to type those words. I have a son. I can't even believe it most of the time, because it still doesn't feel real. I am not just babysitting or doing this mom thing for the time being, no, with each passing day I have struggled to understand that my days will not have the same rhythm they used to, nor will I be maintaining the same pace of life that I had before baby. While I was pregnant, I spent a lot of time reflecting, but I was also working/going to school (I'm in the last semester of getting my Master's degree in counseling) so I didn't really have time to picture what my life would be like once baby got here. I was so focused on just getting through the pregnancy and labor, that I never thought about what would happen once he was actually here. I think I was always holding my breath, just hoping that with each passing day of pregnancy, things would keep progressing and eventually, I would get to hold Ethan. Truth be told, I was terrified of labor and couldn't read anything that would allow me to get too concerned over all the things that "could" happen. Lucky for me, I went into labor completely surprised. On Thursday, March 14th, I was sitting with clients and around 6:30pm in the middle of a couple session, talking about boundaries, my water broke. I truly didn't know if my water was actually breaking. At first I legitimately thought I was peeing myself, but then it didn't stop and before I knew it, I was sitting in a puddle of fluid. I felt embarrassed (an unexpected feeling) and had no idea what to do, but I will tell you, my first instinct was to try to hide it and carry on with the session like it wasn't happening. Looking back now, this makes me laugh. Thankfully, I was not with new clients, I feel that would have been even more awkward. As I told my clients that I thought my water was breaking they quickly ran and got me paper towels and trash bags. I will never forget sitting there wondering if something was wrong. I was at the stage in my pregnancy where I knew he could come at any time, I just didn't think any time would be now. That very morning, I was sitting in a group session and I remember feeling such tremendous pressure "down there" that I felt like I needed to stand up. Afterwards, I went to Walgreens and bought a bunch of stuff for the hospital/after-birth because I hadn't done that yet and suddenly felt this urge to get stuff done. That afternoon, I had a doctor's appointment and was told my cervix was still thick and I wasn't dilated, but the baby's head was very low (hence, the pressure, I believe). I had a meeting after my doctor's appointment and then two more client sessions, so it was a busy day. The last thing I thought was that I would go into labor. Flashing back to sitting with clients, as fluid was still coming out of me, I called my husband and told him that my water might be breaking, then I called my parents. My supervisor ended up taking me to the hospital, which was funny because he's not only my supervisor, but has been my professor for the past three years. I sent an email on the way to the hospital to one of my other professors telling them that my paper due on Sunday might be late. I had every intention of completing it on Friday, but... little man had other plans.<br />
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I feel like birth/having a baby is so much to process. It really is a tremendous life change and yet, I think we as moms expect ourselves to fall into it so easily. I even find myself looking at moms that had babies around the same time as I did thinking, gosh, they just sank back into what looks like normal life so easily. Meanwhile, I can't seem to figure out how not to be constantly covered in breast milk. If you're wondering how the labor and delivery went, although I have nothing to compare it to, I had a very good experience. I did find it odd that I went into labor at 6:30pm on Thursday night and didn't see a doctor until 8am the next morning. Also, I labored all night without any medication or assistance so I kept wondering if my contractions were contractions or if I was just a baby (spoiler: they were) and I was just having a baby not being a baby. I made it until 6:45am and then finally received an epidural. Once I had the epidural, I was able to relax! Mamas who have long labors who go without, HOLY COW! You go! I was too afraid that the exhaustion alone would wear me out before pushing. P.S. I didn't have a birth plan going in and was open to anything needed that would keep us safe.<br />
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I didn't miss not having a birth plan and I am also so grateful I didn't really have any expectations around what labor would be like, because I feel this allowed me to just be in the moment.<br />
I don't know about you guys, but after giving birth, I had this newfound respect for my body and after taking care of Ethan for less than two weeks, I had this whole new respect for mamas. Moms are superheroes.<br />
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I still feel like I am very much just getting my feet back on the ground, but my hope is to write a little more. Ethan is now taking regular naps in his bassinet (post on that later).<br />
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It's funny to look back on this blog. Writing has always been here for me and I think I've been craving it so much because it gives me space to stretch out. It's like being able to stretch out my insides and finally process the last year. I can feel my heart softening as I type and my body relaxing as I move into this new place in my life as a mom, a counselor, a writer, and someone who appreciates authenticity and truth more with each passing day.<br />
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Sarah Rumseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09342531912741902880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411368739123131972.post-1114839022944715312018-04-17T13:29:00.001-07:002018-04-18T16:25:51.121-07:00The courage to stop running<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Tomorrow I have an interview. It will determine whether or not I am ready to start seeing clients. I think it is a pretty straight-forward interview without bells and whistles and certainly without the fear that comes with sitting in front of complete and total strangers. No, this interview is with my professors. Gearing up towards this stage of school, I feel myself questioning and evaluating everything I have learned about the practice of counseling-- both through the lens of being a student and through the lens of being the client. Since I have sat on the other side for many years, this practice isn't foreign to me and the importance of it certainly isn't lost on me. If it wasn't for counseling my dad would probably still be an addict, my parents would be divorced, and I would still be wondering why I keep beating my head against a wall. Don't get me wrong sometimes I still wonder/beat my head against a wall, but at least I am aware of it now. Through all of the years of being in counseling, I never once considered going back to school to be a counselor. I only started to feel the tug when I began to realize that I was doing myself a great disservice by not because after all, this is something that has profoundly changed and touched my life, so therefore; it would be lost on me if I didn't share it. But what is counseling exactly? What makes it effective? Why is it important? Is it important? And what makes counselors different from each other?<br />
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This is something I have been contemplating for awhile now, but more so within the past month as I have been researching theories, techniques, and different avenues of healing trauma. Yeah, I still have no answers, just in case you were wondering.<br />
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But, I think it's important for me to tell you that I'm also a yoga teacher. I started practicing when I had already been in three years of counseling and went into teacher training the same year my dad went into rehab, so for me, therapy and yoga go hand-in-hand. It is really hard for me to imagine one without the other because they've pretty much always existed alongside each other.<br />
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The first time I stepped onto my yoga mat, I had no idea what to expect. I had always been a runner figuratively and literally. Never did I imagine myself doing yoga.<br />
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So there I was, on a black mat, wearing a pink tank top that I had probably had since I was 14. I didn't have the slightest clue what the poses were. To be honest, I didn't even realize that poses were what we were doing. But, even in the midst of not knowing, I could feel myself shift. As I moved through the class it was as if a huge weight was being lifted and for the first time in my life, I felt like I could breathe, really breathe. Not just spit out shallow breaths, but really truly breathe from the deepest part of me all the way up into the most spacious part of me. I remember the teacher walking around the room. I can still remember hearing her voice land on my skin, while simultaneously sinking into my bones, "Don't judge yourself," she said. I could tell she meant it.<br />
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It was right then and there, that I finally had the courage to stop running. It was right then and there that my world paused and I was able to begin the process of turning towards myself (my pain, my fear, my joy, my smallness, my bigness), it was then that I began "the work," the deep work of understanding what it means to be human and accepting all the parts of my humanity that I learned to hide and reject with perfectionism.<br />
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That's what I did for a long time... I rejected myself with perfectionism. That's my recovery.<br />
I drank perfectionism like a stiff vodka. No water, please, just give it to me straight. And no room for error mother f*cker, I got this.<br />
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Sooner rather than later, I couldn't keep up. I was tired. I was stressed. I was imperfect and I was ashamed.<br />
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Maybe that's why when I heard the words, "Don't judge yourself," instead of hitting me like a ton of bricks, it softened into me and, I could finally lay down my heavy armor, take off my running shoes and just be.<br />
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This wasn't easy and it didn't come naturally. I had always felt if I wasn't working towards something then how could I prove that I was okay? That I was worthy?<br />
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How could I eat my next meal if I didn't run to earn it?<br />
How could I belong if I didn't pay my own way?<br />
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As you can see, this perfectionism influenced every part of my life.<br />
I never felt worthy. And I really, really wanted to be loved.<br />
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But you know what? It never worked and I would always end up back where I started.<br />
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So now, as I sit here and rapidly type this, I can't help but think...<br />
what could I possibly have to give people when I myself still struggle?<br />
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Then, I think back... to my yoga teachers, my therapists...<br />
More than anything, these incredible people gave me the space to feel my feelings and the courage to stop running. Whether it was in a therapist's office or on a yoga mat.<br />
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Instead of trying to outrun all of my imperfection, what I needed the most, and what my teachers gave me was a place to rest.<br />
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No striving, no achieving, no backbending or handstanding. No medal. Nothing to gain. Nothing to lose.<br />
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Nothing to earn.<br />
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Just me. My body. My breath.<br />
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That is what I hope to offer others.<br />
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The courage to stop running and the strength to accept being human.<br />
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Sarah Rumseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09342531912741902880noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411368739123131972.post-2837879194819367412018-03-29T07:15:00.002-07:002018-03-29T07:18:52.656-07:00Still here<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Hi, friends! I am not sure how many of you are out there, so maybe I should say hi, friend! Regardless, hello from a rainy morning in Arkansas. All of the trees are turning green and I am pretty sure that if I looked closely enough, I could see the grass doing the same. Winter has officially turned to spring and last weekend, I turned 32. I can't remember exactly when I started this blog. I think it was around the time I was 24 or 25 (no, I was... 23), which seems like a long time ago, but feels like a minute ago. I sit here contemplating what I have actually accomplished in that time span and wonder if I am in relatively the same place. Hmm? I baked bread yesterday. I'm married so I live with a boy full time. I still have the yoga studio I started when I was 27, I am back in school so maybe, I am actually aging in reverse? Oh and this summer, I will be an intern again! WOOHOO, see, I think I am aging in reverse. So, aside from my living situation and getting savvy at sticking to a grocery budget, here I am, THE SAME! Why don't people stop telling us, "well, when you get older... you will become a miraculous unicorn" because, I just don't think that's true, any of it. With that being said, I guess my point is, maybe we have to stop waiting around all the time. Maybe being right where we are at this moment isn't some mere stepping stone; maybe it matters more than we give it credit for and it's actually the moment that counts. Me, sitting here, sipping coffee, hanging with my dogs about to do more school work is where I am now, and while I thought that maybe by now, I would actually be some sort of<strike> celebrity</strike> journalist or even just have a perfectly organized pantry like I see in the movies, I wouldn't want to miss out on this moment. </div>
Sarah Rumseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09342531912741902880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411368739123131972.post-70739048005532442332018-03-02T06:15:00.000-08:002018-03-29T07:17:04.644-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I don't know about you guys but there is so much information out there regarding health that I usually feel more confused than informed. I recently started following "Lee From America" on instagram and as I scroll through her feed with recipes and pictures of matcha tea, I think to myself, this is me in my head when in reality, I am eating Captain Crunch. No joke. Between "toxin-free" and "natural" sometimes, I get completely overwhelmed and decide that eating Captain Crunch and Fruity Pebbles really isn't that bad, while other times I can be found throwing out my shampoos and spending hours walking up and down the Target aisle wondering about Seventh Generation. This is productive right? I keep telling myself that. I guess while I am still doing research and trying to find a happy medium between my Keurig coffee and adaptogens, I will do the best I can... some days it Captain Crunch, some days it's kelp crackers and Seventh Generation. In the meantime, I will keep following Lee. You can find it, <a href="http://www.leefromamerica.com/blog/">here</a>.<br />
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I want to be friends with her.<br />
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photo via <a href="http://www.leefromamerica.com/blog/">Lee From America</a></div>
Sarah Rumseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09342531912741902880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411368739123131972.post-39963259051152094212017-10-14T13:29:00.001-07:002017-10-14T14:25:16.921-07:00Love Anyway<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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This.<br />
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This is something I have been thinking about a lot lately. Mostly, due to the fact that I am feeling my own struggle and resistance with it right now. </div>
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This morning when I woke up I got on the scales. Even as I type that I worry about the judgement <i>which probably calls for an entirely different post at a later date</i>. </div>
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<i>Am I seeing that correctly? </i>I thought as I stared at the numbers. </div>
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Aside from the stress disappearing from the wedding planning, I haven't really changed any habits, but what was once welcomed weight, felt no longer welcomed.<br />
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All of the sudden, I could feel myself beginning to spiral. I could feel my thoughts tangling themselves up. <i>If something is wrong with me, I need to go the doctor. If something isn't wrong with me, then what is happening? What am I doing differently? I want to go for a run. I need to run. Maybe I won't eat today. Maybe I will just have water. I didn't eat very much for dinner last night, how could this be happening? What can I do to fix this? Change this?</i> I could feel myself spinning out. Grasping for control, I wanted to run. I wanted to hide. I wanted to leave my body. As I put on my running shoes and headed out the door, my husband stopped me. I told him how I was feeling. He hugged me. He told me he loved me. He tried to talk me out of the hole I was digging myself into, but I continued to head out the door on a mission. I wanted to figure out how to fix this and hide all at the same time. </div>
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As I slowed down and began to walk I started thinking about what my yoga teacher says,"if we look for stability in our ever-changing world we will suffer. We have to connect to that place within us that is not defined by our outside circumstances."</div>
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As I thought about this, I closed my eyes. I could feel the wind on my face. I felt the sun on my skin and as silly as it may sound, I thought about how I felt in this moment. If I hadn't gotten on the scale this morning what kind of day would I be having? How would I feel? </div>
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I could feel myself shift as I stepped back. In this moment, I felt happy, healthy, strong and vital. In this moment, I felt grateful for my body. I felt grateful to be able to walk, run and be outside. </div>
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Slowly, my thoughts stopped spinning and as I collected my breath, I could feel myself calming down. This work was actually familiar. It's something I share with others in yoga repeatedly. What I wish for all girls, women, people, in general, is to be free of this feeling because I know it as one that can take a perfectly beautiful day and turn into something bad. </div>
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When we wrap ourselves up into our thoughts this way, it takes us away from our inherent worth. Before we know it, we've just given our sense of self/power over to something that doesn't define us. </div>
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I know all of this because it's really easy to do. I know this feeling. I know the allure of perfection. I've sat in it for years at a time. I've even tried to swim in it, but it doesn't work. It only makes us feel too exhausted for the things that really do matter in life. </div>
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And while it's easy to attach our worth to something outside of ourselves, what's actually hard is to wake up every day and love ourselves anyway. </div>
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But, what happens when we are brave enough to love ourselves anyway?</div>
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What happens when we are brave enough to love ourselves no matter how much we weigh?</div>
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Or what we look like?</div>
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Or how much we've accomplished?</div>
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How much money we've made?</div>
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How powerful we are?</div>
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How many people like us?<br />
What our kids do or don't do?</div>
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<br /></div>
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What happens when we can just be and breathe?</div>
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What happens when we choose how we eat, live, love based on how we truly feel rather than how we want to look or want something else to look? Whether it be our bodies, relationships or choices in general...</div>
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<br /></div>
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Can we be brave enough to love ourselves anyway?</div>
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Today, I had to work at it. Tomorrow, I'll have to work at it... maybe it will get easier, maybe it won't. This I know for sure though, bravery lies in our ability to be human. It really does because nothing is perfect. </div>
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So we have a choice every day and the choice is can we love ourselves anyway?</div>
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This is the work I want to do and would rather do.</div>
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I would rather eat my breakfast tacos and enjoy them than let a fucking scale determine if I'm going to eat today. </div>
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What would you rather do? </div>
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Think about it and love yourself anyway.</div>
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Sarah Rumseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09342531912741902880noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411368739123131972.post-88743826660972807372017-09-12T20:41:00.002-07:002017-09-13T06:22:04.073-07:00Brace for Impact<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It's been a long time since I've written anything in the evening, but this screen with buttons keeps nagging at me, so here I am. I can't seem to write enough lately. It's almost like I have so much to say, that I can't seem to say anything at all or at least that's how I felt as I was tripping over my words teaching yoga this afternoon. As I mentioned in my previous post, over the weekend, I went to Dallas for a weekend yoga workshop. I had a four-hour drive so to pass the time I played different podcasts, two being from Oprah's Super Soul Sunday with Brene Brown. Yes, I am both a HUGE Oprah and Brene Brown fan. As I passed through the great state of Oklahoma into Texas, Brene was talking about courage, what it means to dare greatly, and vulnerability. One of the things she said keeps playing in my mind and I can't seem to get it out of my head because my yoga teacher also alluded to something similar. She said that one of the things we're most afraid of in life is joy. Oprah had a tone of surprise when Brene mentioned this, but I sat there in my car nodding. I knew exactly what Brene was talking about, much to my own dismay. She went on to say that we worry when things are bad, but we often worry just as much when things are going well. I again found myself nodding my head, thinking, this is my whole life. Why do we do this? We want to try to prepare as much as possible for the other shoe to drop. Brene said that the truth of it is that we are actually terrified of vulnerability. We try to protect ourselves so much from feeling anything. We think if we prepare for the worst that it will somehow cut down on the pain when and if it comes, but all it really does is keep us from our joy. Wow. I could cry that hits me so hard even as I type it. My whole life I feel I've been bracing for impact. I walk a tightrope of holding on while pretending to let go. It keeps me just safe enough. Once I arrived at the workshop, still replaying Brene's words, my yoga teacher made the statement that we are always changing and because of this change we often live in fear because of the unknown. He too said that we fear when things are going really well, and we also fear when things aren't going so well. In this case, what do we do? In yoga we use our breath to stabilize us, not only in postures but in our own heads. Like an anchor, we use our inhales and exhales to keep us present, but why? As Rod Stryker pointed out this weekend, the practice helps us to connect us to that part of ourselves which is constant, unwavering, indestructible, and really even undefinable. This is something I've known. It's a place that's even hard to write or talk about because it's something we feel not something we find. It's this place that we come back to, that we rest in and find solace in so that we can find stability even when our outside world is shifting. It helps us to stay steady so that our outside circumstance doesn't have so much power over us. We often give our job, relationship, successes, failures too much power and because of it, we wrap our identities around things that are constantly changing, so how could we ever find consistent joy? Maybe it's unattainable, but in the practice of yoga some would say that it is attainable. Me, even being a doomsday skeptic would say that it is, but it's challenging. When we can rest in this place, we can step back and not only witness but gain clarity in our lives. When we rest in this place, we are able to find something constant within us which makes the outside world much less powerful.<br />
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To relax more, and worry less.<br />
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I think joy is worth it.<br />
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<i><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">“To love someone fiercely, to believe in something with your whole heart, to celebrate a fleeting moment in time, to fully engage in a life that doesn’t come with guarantees – these are risks that involve vulnerability and often pain. But, I’m learning that recognizing and leaning into the discomfort of vulnerability teaches us how to live with joy, gratitude, and grace.” </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">― </span><a class="authorOrTitle" href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/162578.Bren_Brown" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Lato, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 21px; text-decoration: none;">Brené Brown</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">, </span><span id="quote_book_link_7015403" style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;"><a class="authorOrTitle" href="https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/7261277" style="color: #333333; font-family: Lato, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">The Gifts of Imperfection: Let Go of Who You Think You're Supposed to Be and Embrace Who You Are</a></span></i></div>
Sarah Rumseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09342531912741902880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411368739123131972.post-54280043386554050192017-09-11T07:52:00.004-07:002017-09-11T15:09:06.933-07:00Past, Present, Future<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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After a full weekend of yoga in Dallas, it's so nice to be home with nothing but house chores and school on my to-do list for today. I feel like I am moving slowly this morning while the practices we did through the workshop settle into my muscles, bones, and thoughts. A yoga weekend with my teacher means a lot of heart work. Not the muscle heart, but the heart we refer to when talking about how we feel/our emotions. He's not the type of yoga teacher to spew off "yogic phrases." You probably wouldn't ever catch him saying something like, "breathe into your heart," because he doesn't have to. He really allows the practices we do to speak for themselves, and wow, they do. With just a little time to reflect here, I can't help but feel nostalgic and at the same time amazed at the way life unfolds. I started writing this blog after moving out of New York, going backpacking through the Himalayan mountains in India all before ever stepping foot on a yoga mat. I even talk about my first class on this blog. When I moved to Houston from Dallas, I really had no idea where it would lead. I can't help but think everyone must have these connections in their lives. These weird coincidences that nug and remind us that maybe nothing in life is random. We all have our experiences, our memories of the things that have made us happy, broken our hearts, and made us in some way who we are today. Hoping to learn from it all, we look back only so we know how to move forward, more wisely, more consciously, and hopefully more lovingly.<br />
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My attention can't help but turn to the date. The remembering done this day is edged in our minds and hearts as we recall where we were, emotions, and feelings. We do this so we learn how to move forward.<br />
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My teacher did say over the weekend, "<i>your future is the past, modified by the present.</i>"<br />
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I'm grateful for this space to reach out, connect, dig into my thoughts a little and let them land here.<br />
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Sarah Rumseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09342531912741902880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411368739123131972.post-23338706464233915662017-08-22T06:33:00.004-07:002017-08-22T06:47:14.220-07:00The Personal Side of Change <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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My first day back in grad school was yesterday and I will say, you know you're in the right place when you bought one of your required books years ago to read on your own. As much as I feel like I know absolutely nothing when it comes to counseling, I do feel like I'm exactly where I am supposed to be as I hang on every word spoken in class. What is interesting/different about counseling is the perspective it brings to everything else in life. Last night, in my Brief Therapy class we talked about change. Do people really change? Is change possible? What does change look like? Why is change challenging? As we approached all of these questions, I thought about my own relationship with change, especially when looking to change a habit, perception, or incongruent belief. From my experience, change takes time and compassion. My yoga teacher talks about how we are always changing. We are either moving towards ourselves in a positive way or away from ourselves. I said this to the professor last night, along with sharing the fact that my dad is a recovering addict. When it came to changing his addict behavior, I feel like it really came down to acceptance, love, forgiveness, and compassion. It had nothing to do with saying, "okay, tonight I won't drink." In class last night I shared that I feel we have the core of who we are which can be referred to as our spirit, our soul, our essence, and then we have our behavior. In watching my dad journey through and into recovery when he was 57, it felt like instead of removing a behavior, he was simply in the process of remembering who he truly is. He was learning how to come back to himself. I realize and understand that depending on circumstance, the situation is different for everyone. As a family, we had a lot of resources at our fingertips that allowed not only my dad the ability to do some deep work in rehab/in therapy, it allowed all of us as a family too, which I am truly grateful for. By the end of class last night, we were talking about change being truly personal. No matter if it is a change for the better or not, we are often resistant to change based on our own fear. We have strong attachments as humans. We are taught to self-identify in order to be somebody and it doesn't matter what that looks like as long as we do it to belong somewhere. The only way I know to change is to love myself right where I am, to forgive, and to have compassion for the learning that is always taking place. Last night my professor said, "Do the next right thing."<br />
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I like that. Do the next right thing.<br />
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<i> Move within, But don't move the way fear makes you move.”-Rumi </i></h1>
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Sarah Rumseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09342531912741902880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411368739123131972.post-63214559690387399212017-08-17T12:42:00.004-07:002017-08-18T06:03:20.083-07:00To the page I go...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Last night, before falling asleep, I turned to my husband and told him that when I was younger, I remember reading <i>The Little Engine That Could</i>, but it was never one of my favorite books growing up because it seemed like a boy book. I asked him his thoughts about creating a girl version, and as I rambled on about the male and female brain, I went to sleep thinking about writing a children's book because <i>The Little Engine That Could</i> is something that everyone needs to read.<br />
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This was sparked after coming home last night from a full yoga class at Maitri, or what we now affectionately call, The Yoga Collective at Maitri. When I first started dreaming up the yoga studio I remember the months leading up to it. I didn't research anything about the business of yoga, or yoga studios in general at all. Even though I would be moving to a new city, new state, I don't remember thinking very much about what it would take to open the studio itself. I just remember practicing yoga during that time and lingering after class waiting to talk to my teacher. One day I was gathering up my belongings from the space where we kept our bags and she came in with some cards. I had never pulled cards before and had no idea what it was or what it meant, but she told me to just pick one of the cards and see what it says. I pulled one and it said "trust." There wasn't any other guidance, but I remember the yellow on the card, and maybe there was a staircase or someone peeking around a corner holding a light. I actually have no idea if any of those images are correct or accurate, but that's what I remember. She asked me if it resonated with me and I nodded.<br />
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I knew. I knew exactly what I needed to do even though I had no idea how I would go about doing it. I had no idea what it would take to open the yoga studio. I didn't know how much money I would need or any logistics. I didn't even know if I would find a space or a place to live. All I knew was that I had an idea and even more than an idea, I had a desire to share. There was a tug. I didn't have any fears or concerns, mainly looking back now because I had no idea what to expect. There was nothing to be afraid of because I just didn't know. I didn't have an outcome. I didn't have a measuring stick, all I knew was that I wanted to share. Now, looking back, I thank God for these blinders because as I've sunk my teeth in, I realize that if I would have known, I would have been overwhelmed. There probably would have been way too many "what ifs."<br />
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As I have moved through navigating the studio, I have been amazed by the way it continues to grow. I am not even sure at this point if it is anything I have done. My job, my sole job has been staying out of the way. In some ways literally and in some ways figuratively. I am not even sure where all this blind faith has come from/came from, but I always have trusted and continue to trust that everything would be provided one step, one breath at a time.<br />
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In the past year, I have gone back to school to get my Master's in Counseling. I moved an hour away from the studio, and have gotten married. It's been a lot of change, and all the while, the studio space has been taken care of and I am in awe of it. The ladies that work alongside me are incredible, but that is an entirely different post altogether.<br />
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When we get out of the way, I truly believe the powers of God can be seen. As I type that, I question whether I am blowing this out of proportion, but I'm not. The studio is like the little engine that could. Along the way, it's gotten all the help it needs, and it continues to "chugga, chugga" it's way. It amazes me.<br />
<br />
The only part I've played is not giving up.<br />
So, today, don't give up.<br />
If your heart is in it, it's worth it. I promise. That is a promise I can make, so trust, breathe and get out of the way.<br />
<br />
Everyone needs <i>The Little Engine That Could</i> in their lives. Stay tuned... </div>
Sarah Rumseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09342531912741902880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411368739123131972.post-83031484092403349302017-08-16T12:22:00.001-07:002017-08-16T12:43:07.481-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I wish I had blogged throughout my engagement, but you can't go back; and now here I am, married. Wow. People that didn't attend the wedding keep asking me how it was, how it went, and how it feels to be married. One sweet lady at a birthday party last weekend looked at us, newlyweds, and said, "now the real work begins." I smiled, looked at her, and nodded knowingly. People say that getting married should be the easiest decision of your life. While I appreciate the sentiment, I do feel that when you are going into marriage at the age of 31 and 33, most likely you have dated, a lot or perhaps that's just me; but, for the the most part you have probably had experiences that have shaped you, changed you, and maybe even given you a sense of self that isn't based on anyone else. These are all great, and wonderful things, right?! Yes! There have probably also been moments where you start to get used to all of this freedom, and really can't imagine life any differently. Living by yourself, heck yes! Dating, yes! Endless possibilities, best thing ever! But, then you meet someone and suddenly, you find yourself wanting to be around them more than you like being alone, inevitably, you spend more time with them. Then, you realize you don't ever want to be without them, but it's different. There isn't a fear of rejection because you know you could live without them, heck you have for so many years... but, you still might not like the idea of not having them around, so you keep dating. Perhaps years and months go by and before you know it, you find yourself in the middle of a proposal. You might not even realize he's proposing. It just sneaks up and then all of the sudden, you're engaged! Happiness, happiness, happiness, REALITY. Life is about to change.<br />
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Growing up, as a little girl I dreamed about a wedding one day and accompanying the wedding day an image of someone. He might be tall, dark, handsome, and I might have imagined him sweeping me off my feet, only to ride off into the sunset together. While that is a wonderful image, the reality of getting married feels much different. From the moment we got engaged, life was happening. We moved into a house together, and with that came talk of a mortgage and how we were going to do payments, and how much we were going to spend for renovations, etc. We both moved out of our own places, all while he transitioned into a different job and I started school to get my Master's degree. Life carried on, and we began planning the wedding while talking about our backgrounds, how we grew up, our differences, our similarities, and how we inevitably knew it would all impact our life moving forward as a couple. We had some tense moments. There were times when our living room fire would be blazing until the early hours of the morning. The 2am question would be, are we doing the right thing by getting married? This was not an easy decision for either one of us because we both knew it was the biggest decision we had both ever made, individually and collectively. It felt weird not to be basking in the warm glow of love, bliss, and all things wedding. It's what I had read about it. It's what I had believed was supposed to happen. You meet the one, and everything just magically falls into place. Were we doing this right? Was something wrong with us? Where is the engagement bliss?<br />
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I am actually not even sure I can give you an answer to those questions, but what I can tell you is that through our fear, differences, and difficulties during our engagement came a better understanding of what it meant and would mean to be with the person I now call my husband. Standing up with him at the altar, it didn't matter if he could ride away with me into the sunset; I knew he could stand with me in the fire. That became more important to me than anything. For the first time in my life, I experienced someone truly standing beside me.<br />
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Now, in this moment, today, all the fear that I felt over this perceived loss of freedom, loss of identity that I had built up for 31 years fell away, as I realized I still had it all and so much more. I've dated enough to know that this is rare.<br />
<br />
So, while I wish I would have chronicled all of this during our year-long engagement, I am grateful to have the ability to land here and wrap my arms around all of my thoughts, feelings, fears, and perspectives.<br />
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For those of you walking down the aisle soon, just know whatever you're feeling is normal, and valid, just don't let fear get in the way.<br />
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This was read at our wedding and I love it.<br />
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<strong style="background: transparent; border: 0px; display: inline-block; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">"The Irrational Season"</strong><em style="background: transparent; border: 0px; display: inline-block; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Madeleine L'Engle</em></div>
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But ultimately there comes a moment when a decision must be made.<br />
Ultimately two people who love each other must ask themselves how much<br />
they hope for as their love grows and deepens, and how much risk they<br />
are willing to take…</div>
<div style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #6b6b6b; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 12px; line-height: 20px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
It is indeed a fearful gamble…Because it is the<br />
nature of love to create, a marriage itself is something which has to<br />
be created, so that, together we become a new creature.</div>
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To marry is the biggest risk in human relations that a person can<br />
take…</div>
<div style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #6b6b6b; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 12px; line-height: 20px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
If we commit ourselves to one person for life this is not, as<br />
many people think, a rejection of freedom; rather it demands the<br />
courage to move into all the risks of freedom, and the risk of love<br />
which is permanent; into that love which is not possession, but<br />
participation…</div>
<div style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #6b6b6b; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 12px; line-height: 20px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
It takes a lifetime to learn another person…</div>
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When love is<br />
not possession, but participation, then it is part of that co-creation<br />
which is our human calling, and which implies such risk that it is<br />
often rejected. </div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "times"; font-size: small; line-height: normal;">Thanks for listening, friends. </span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "times"; font-size: small; line-height: normal;"><br /></span> <span style="color: black; font-family: "times"; font-size: small; line-height: normal;">P.S. </span><i style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; line-height: normal;">(The photo is from our wedding day captured by the amazing <a href="http://rachelhavel.com/">Rachel Havel</a>)</i></div>
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Sarah Rumseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09342531912741902880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411368739123131972.post-24487362787898273002017-08-15T07:18:00.000-07:002017-08-15T07:45:11.939-07:00Take Your Seat<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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"Take your seat."<br />
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I have been trying to remind myself of this since I said it in yoga last week. As the students were settling into class and beginning to set intentions for their practice, I was thinking about the word asana and how it translates to the word seat. So often, I think we go through life without ever really and truly claiming our seat. Sometimes we even give up our seats, and whether for good or not so good reasons, the eventual reality is that if we don't ever claim our seat in this world, in this life, we will miss the moment. While I do believe that what is meant to be, will be; I do not believe the sentiment means that we sit back passively. After class was over, and I had said all of this and more, a student asked me if I had read what I had said in a book. When I said no, she told me I should write. "Write these things down." It was an innocent thing to say, and something I've heard before, but now sitting here, I realize I've never wanted to claim this seat. I've pushed aside carving out time to write for other things that keep me busy, distracted and negate the risk of claiming this seat. However, the fact is this is the very thing in my life I want the most. I want to write.<br />
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So, coming back to this medium as something that I am comfortable with, I am going to work to claim this seat, this seat as a writer.<br />
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Today and every day, we have to decide to claim our seat. Whether it is sitting in joy, courage, compassion, or something/somewhere else, I believe we have to decide where we want to sit every day.<br />
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Take your seat.<br />
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Sarah Rumseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09342531912741902880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411368739123131972.post-71022830412758241152017-06-22T07:02:00.003-07:002017-06-22T07:02:32.144-07:00Current Happiness <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It's summer. Summer is here!<br />
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Let the fun commence...<br />
I love these gender-neutral bedrooms from <a href="http://www.mydomaine.com/gender-neutral-bedrooms/slide25">My Domaine </a></div>
Sarah Rumseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09342531912741902880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411368739123131972.post-43697103782714557912017-03-30T06:37:00.001-07:002017-03-30T10:34:22.509-07:00Before doing anything else this morning... <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I wanted to sit down and write. Yesterday, when I got home from work I found myself here looking through old blog posts trying to put pieces together. The pieces of my life that brought me here. I haven't blogged in a long time. I think I was told no less than four times yesterday that I am a writer. I've been neglecting this part of myself; maybe due to school work, teaching, and all the other stresses of life that swirl around what it means to grow up. Right now the news is muted. My coffee is waiting is for me, but there was one thing I needed to do this morning more than anything: write. I could feel my fingers ache last night, and that little whisper pulling me back here. Maybe, I even talked myself into being something else. Something other than a writer, because in the grand scheme of things, all I've ever really written about is on this blog... but, somehow it's enough. It's enough to remind me that deep within myself, without putting things down into words that form sentences, there is a part of my voice that gets lost. It's as if this is my way of anchoring; just like using my breath in a yoga class, it's an anchor providing me some sort of support to lean on. I wish I really knew where to begin, so I guess aside from searching for something to catch you up on I will just say that when looking through this blog, it makes sense. It all makes sense. The last blog post I read before going to bed last night was one I wrote before moving back to Arkansas.<br />
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I'll leave a part of it here:<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 15px;"><i>But this issue of growing up, it's not all that easy because it requires a lot of courage. Particularly it takes a lot of courage to relate directly with your experience. By this I mean whatever is occurring in you, you use it. You seize the moment? moment after moment? you seize those moments and instead of letting life shut you down and make you more afraid, you use those very same moments of time to soften and to open and to become more kind. More kind to yourself for starters as the basis for becoming more kind to others.<br /><br />One time when I was a child, I was feeling very upset and angry at one point. I think I was around seven or eight. And there was this old woman, who I later become very close to. But the first time I ever met her, I was walking down the street kicking stones with my head down, and I was feeling very lonely. I was basically feeling that nobody loved me very much and that people weren't taking care of me. So I was walking along angry at the world, kicking stones. And this woman said, "Child, don't let the world harden your heart."<br /><br />And I always remember that. It was the first real teaching I received, I think. It's still a teaching I remember. And in terms of this teaching on maitri, this is really the key. People's lives, through all of time, have had a lot of difficulty in them The Buddha's first teaching was that there is suffering in life, If you're born as a human being, there's suffering. At the very least, there's the suffering of illness, of growing old and of death at the end. Not to mention that the more you love are able to open, there's the suffering of not getting what you want and of losing what you do want. Just some inevitable sufferings.<br /><br />Nowadays, this is an especially difficult time in the history of this planet, Earth. it's a difficult time. And in times of difficulty, people get very frightened. Often when I'm teaching a lot of the questions are that people ask about just the subject. People inevitably say, "Yes, but it's dangerous, it's getting more and more dangerous just to walk down the street. We need to protect ourselves."<br /><br />I think the point is when our lives are difficult, in small ways or large ways, when we're going through a lot emotionally, or when difficult things are happening in our environment, do those things cause us to become more uptight and afraid. Or do those very same things, when the teachings are applied, soften us and can open us?<br /><br />To me, this is how I practice and this is the most important thing. You never know what's going to happen to us. In any day of our lives you never know what's coming. That's part of the adventure of it actually, but that's what makes us scared, is that we never know. And we spend a lot of time trying to control it so that we could know, but the truth is that we don't really know.<br /><br />Really, I think a lot of people, like children, you're wanting some kind of practice that's not going to take you into anything uncomfortable but at the same time you want the practice to heal you. And it just doesn't work like that.<br /><br />The question is how do you relate when things are uncomfortable? That's really the question.<br /><br />As far as I'm concerned, in terms of spiritual path, that's the main question: how do you relate with the difficulties? How do you relate with the feelings you have and the situations you find yourself in?<br /><br />This particular teaching on the Four Limitless Ones, on maitri, compassion, joy and equanimity is really a teaching on how to take the situations of your life and train- actually train- in catching yourself closing down, catching yourself getting hard, and training in opening at that very point, or softening. In some sense reversing a very, very old pattern of the whole species, which is a pattern of armoring ourselves. It's sort of like the essence of the whole Path is in that place of discomfort and what do you do with it? </i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "times"; font-size: x-small; line-height: normal;"><a href="http://www.shambhala.org/teachers/pema/maitri1.php" style="color: #999999; text-decoration: none;">Pema Chodron</a> tells this story so well, and I really love the message of this. In my life, I have experienced things that I blamed myself for, that I realize now, after a lot of therapy, were not my fault. I didn't practice loving kindness to myself at all for a long time, because I believed I didn't deserve it. The truth is, we all deserve it. When things are uncomfortable, it's a reminder that we are human, perfection isn't needed, but compassion is. </span></span><br />
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With love,<br />
Sarah<br />
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Sarah Rumseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09342531912741902880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411368739123131972.post-77504295607301092552016-06-15T06:53:00.000-07:002016-06-15T06:53:03.340-07:00"Let me teach you how to let go," she said. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I could feel my heart pounding, my palms sweating and in that moment it seemed the world slowed down.<br />
"I will teach you how to let go," she said.<br />
I didn't really know what to say. I looked at her and she looked at me. I could feel life staring at me, asking me, "Will you play it safe?"<br />
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This question comes up ever so often; checking in with me, as if it wants to know where to go next.<br />
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I've always answered the question the same way; ripping off whatever idea I had of safety to set myself free. I breathed deeply and knew that I had to keep going.<br />
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There was something else. I'm not sure what, but I knew I had to trust myself enough to let go...<br />
over and again.<br />
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Sarah Rumseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09342531912741902880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411368739123131972.post-41237800087211506262016-03-22T12:55:00.000-07:002016-03-23T06:04:09.725-07:00The Verge of 30: Have I really learned anything? <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Being that I am on the verge of turning 30; literally, staring it in the face; marching down the aisle, I can see it."I am not going to freak out," I tell myself. Up until this point, I have been excited about turning 30. "I've earned it." And yes, although this is true, I can't help but to be a little reflective, being that I am in the last two days before the final approach. "Have I really learned anything?" In high school, I took a psychology class and we were asked to write a certain number of pages each week. I am so thankful for these pages. Last spring, when I opened the journals up, I thumbed through the pages and could hear the voice of a very wise 18-year-old girl on the brink of setting out on an adventure. Since then, I have watched her grapple with change. I have witnessed her question every aspect of existence, worth and ability to be a successful human on this planet. I have watched desires change, while values have shifted into what feels more in line with the truth of the heart. I have watched as I, myself have fallen in and out of love while trying to figure out what it means to be in relationship, but slowly figuring out that the relationship I wanted the most was the one with myself. I have picked myself up off the ground more times than I would like to count and have whispered over and over again to my own sweet heart, "keep going". I will say this, I have lived my 20's well. They have been every bit of confusing and as I rest here in the experience of my own "growth," I will say that I am proud of who the 18-year-old girl has become. I continue to wrap my own arms around myself every day and whisper, "keep going". No one really tells you how hard it's going to be. No one tells you that if you choose a life of authenticity and truth it might feel as if you're marching to a drum beat that makes no sense to anyone else but you. While I sit here and write, I could not be more thankful for the practice of yoga in my life. The time when I lived in Houston, was a turning point in my 20's. I developed the best of friends who continue to stay with me in my heart every single day. They are the ones who have their hands on my back at all times encouraging me to keep going. Perhaps, we have those moments in life, when we are in this dip of healing. It might feel like a place in the valley between mountains. That is what Houston was for me. It was the place that fed me before I climbed one of my biggest mountains yet, which was my move back to Arkansas. I created a safe haven for myself in Fayetteville, where I currently live. The safe haven is a yoga studio affectionately called, Maitri and she is a light to be reckoned with. She has seen many teachers and students come and go. She remains steadfast, open and a soft comfort where I not only rest my head, but others do as well. I have made no money running Maitri. Maybe it is a fault of mine, but I realize that I am a terrible business owner especially when it comes in the form of a yoga studio. From the time I opened Maitri, I knew that I would rather fail than never try, so I have poured my heart into it and will continue to. When I was asked early on, at what point I would call Maitri successful, I said, "she already is." I have never publicized what people have shared with me about their experiences at Maitri, but I will say this, everything has been truly worth it. Maitri is a light in my life. I refer to Maitri as a "her" and I know it might be weird, but I feel that Maitri has become a place that belongs to itself and everyone who walks through the door. I don't feel that I actually own Maitri. The person who practices there and moves away carrying a piece of Maitri owns just as much of it as I do. My job is to make sure Maitri is taken care of so it can do its job in holding space for others. Maitri has taught me and continues to teach me more than I could have ever imagined. In a way, I know I could never repay Maitri in what it has provided for me, maybe not monetarily; but in every other way, Maitri has shown me my strength and perhaps, that is what I have learned the most about in my 20's: my own strength. I moved back to Arkansas, a place I thought I would never live again. When I packed up for college, I had no idea that I would later return. I thought I was returning to heal something, but maybe that wasn't it at all. Perhaps, when I was younger I fooled myself into thinking that I wasn't enough. I needed to move, to go... I got on a treadmill of trying to prove something to myself only to grow tired and realize that none of what I was doing mattered if I wasn't happy. I think we all have this picture in our heads of what our life will be like. My reality is an entirely different picture than the one I had in my head. I think that we have to always keep moving forward and do the best we can in listening and following our hearts. Right now, I am trying to listen to my own heart as I decide which graduate school to attend starting in May. I am down to the wire and a part of me goes one way and the other part of me goes the other. I have always been a "flight risk." Ugh, the thought of being tied down scares the crap out of me. One school allows me the freedom of movement, while the other school provides me with community. What I have missed out on most over the past few years is a community, what I value most is freedom. Which one? Which one? I think I am going to have go to yoga tonight, and as I breathe, maybe the answer will be revealed. Meanwhile, I will just pray on it. I am excited for grad school because in some ways, it is a new chapter. I am going back to get my masters in counseling; something I never thought I would do, yet it makes so much sense. Even as I read my journal pages from my psychology class last year, I realize now that I had everything in me then, and now it is just being revealed little by little as I get older. I am so grateful for the gift of 30. I think I have talked my way back to the excitement of the phrase, "30, I have earned you." The journey continues...<br />
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Thanks for listening. Thanks for letting these fingers type away as I try to make sense of the way I feel. 90% of time it's an absolute mystery until I can create enough space and stillness for myself to process in the comfort of the only sound being the keyboard keys beneath my fingertips.<br />
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I'm curious: Were any of you reflective upon turning 30? Did you feel sad? Excited? Scared? Proud? Did 30 feel different than other ages?<br />
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30 to me doesn't feel all that different, but it provides the best opportunity to say, you know what, "I am fucking proud of myself."<br />
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Love you all!<br />
<br />
P.S. My birthday is Thursday, feel free to make a big deal out of it. Eat some cake! </div>
Sarah Rumseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09342531912741902880noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411368739123131972.post-63322705000274468802016-02-08T07:29:00.001-08:002016-03-22T11:29:39.288-07:00Becoming Friends with Anger <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I feel like I am learning the delicate balance between honoring my feelings; using my voice; establishing boundaries; creating a non-negotiable relationship with my sense of self-worth and being authentic in all the ways I show up. Whew, yeah, that's a lot of learning and I guess I have been in this process for a long time. At times, it has been easy, while at other times it has been a pain in the ass to learn because I get the same hard lessons over and over again. In the midst of it, I am realizing things about myself, especially when it comes to my emotions, words and actions lining up.<br />
I'm learning that honoring my feelings takes guts. As I am navigating my way through this, there is a part of me that feels bad or guilty because as I get stronger in my sense of love and value for myself, the less I am willing to tolerate.<br />
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I have been known by many as being "too nice." I have also probably been known by many as being a "bitch." I think they go hand-in-hand because when you get to the end of your "being too nice," rope you become a bitch or, at least this is what I've noticed about myself. This is the most feared person in the world, right? The person who gives and gives and gives, then suddenly blows up.<br />
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I have had to work long and hard on becoming friends with my anger, my hurts, my vulnerabilities, my humanness and my insecurities for a long time. When my boyfriend and I started dating he noticed this tendency I have to not say how I feel. But because we compliment each other in the way that we don't have the same kind of crazy, he has been able to hold space for me to look at this part of myself without taking it personally. He invites me to get angry at him. No, he doesn't say, "Sarah, please be angry at me", but he would rather that I tell him how I feel than hold it in. He knows it's not about him.<br />
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Watching myself work through this, I realize that I developed this coping skill of keeping my feelings to myself when I was young. I think somewhere along the way I began to doubt my sense of value and I lost appreciation for how I felt thinking that my feelings did more harm than good, so why share them? I also became afraid that if I was ever angry, my parents would take it in as something they did wrong and beat themselves up. I held myself responsible for their relationship and everything else around me. I thought if I could always be okay, I could keep everyone else okay. I realize now that this was extremely self-centered of me, but nonetheless, I didn't know any better. It's taken all twenty-nine years to re-learn what I learned in Kindergarten. How I feel matters.<br />
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In a yoga class yesterday, we were all in warrior I. I could feel myself heat up as I was in the pose. I felt agitated. I wanted to move, but through the class instead of trying to "let it all go", as I so often do and say, I just sat with myself. I didn't try to see the blessing in what I was feeling. I just let myself feel the way I felt. Something miraculous happened....<br />
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For the first time today, I told someone, outside my immediate family/boyfriend/safety net that they had hurt my feelings. As the words came out of my mouth it didn't feel natural, but it did feel better to be honest and authentic than not. I didn't pretend like I was perfect or bulletproof. I didn't pretend that the way I had been treated was okay.<br />
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Regardless of the outcome, my heart felt lighter, any anger that I felt disappeared and when I hung up the phone I knew I had just honored myself in a big way. Did I just graduate emotionally?<br />
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P.S. I liked the movie, Inside Out a lot.<br />
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Sarah Rumseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09342531912741902880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411368739123131972.post-18548060870511030052015-07-07T18:47:00.000-07:002015-07-07T20:34:16.988-07:00Truth Telling <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I've never gone this amount of time without writing. Today, for whatever reason, I couldn't wait to get to this moment. Sitting here with a cup of tea, just waiting to talk. It's been what feels like forever since I have felt this urgency to write. It's like there's something that I have to get out of me or I might just explode. I think now, the words, feelings and thoughts have taken so long to brew that they are spilling over, so excuse me while I sit here and soak in this moment of having the time to breathe, write and rest my heart on the spaces between the letters and words that are typed right here.<br />
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I have a yoga studio and I write a newsletter every month with a theme. It was what my home studio in Houston had always done, so now it's what I always do. This month the theme, freedom came to me and it just happened to coincide with the symbolism of the fourth of July. Freedom is something I value. As I sat down this morning for my school lectures, I'm getting my licensing from <a href="http://www.integrativenutrition.com/">The Integrative Institute of Nutrition </a>to be a holistic health and wellness coach, I opened my computer to find the lecture to be about exactly this, freedom. I couldn't listen and absorb quickly enough, so I watched the lecture twice. Every word of it hit me hard. One point after another, I kept writing, listening and realizing that this was exactly what I needed to hear, so I thought I would share it with you. Seven Steps to Freedom:<br />
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1. Release your story. We all have stories. We do. We like to carry them around. Some of us have backpacks, some us have purses or really full pockets, others of us like to pile all of our stories on so high we actually fall backwards so often that the idea of putting one foot in front of the other seems impossible. I have carried some version of a story my entire life. I am writing this publicly for what feels like the first time in my life. A truth: my dad is an addict. A story: It's all my fault. Even as I write the sentence, I want to erase it. The word addict seemed so far from my world growing up that I didn't imagine writing that sentence at the age of 29. Addicts were people I envisioned who grew up on the wrong side of the tracks, not my dad, who had everything together. The thing is, I'm not that much different you see. Addicts are simply people who carry around their stories. Those stories that take us back to the same place over and over again. That place that tricks us into thinking that we are less than we are. The word addict does not mean bad or broken. I would even venture to say that in life, everyone has a story that they either choose to identify with and are controlled by, or they wake up every day and choose to let it go.<br />
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2. Finding your voice. I guess this doesn't just mean speaking it. I'm pretty sure this refers to all forms of having voice. I think part of the reason why it's so hard for me to write is the terrifying fear of being seen. Finding our voices is really this call to be present, to be all here and we can only do this once we have released our stories. Finding our voice is showing up authentically.<br />
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3. Mind-Body Connection. Yeah, there's a connection there, which is why I found yoga to be a benefit from the very first time I ever stepped on my mat. It helped me to release things I didn't even know I was holding onto. Mental health is encoded in the way we think. The way we think directly impacts the way we feel. My dad refers to negative thinking as "stinky thinking." It always makes me laugh. My whole family has been in recovery and in therapy for about four years now. Yay, Dad! One of the things we've connected over is yoga. My dad doesn't necessarily do a ton of asana, but he lives it every day, and I know he understands what I do through sharing yoga almost better than anyone, because we've both been "there." We've both been at the point you get to when your body gives you no choice, but to listen, pay attention and begin the process of healing.<br />
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4. Surrendering Secrets. Secrets are the source of shame. In the lecture I listened to earlier today she said, "shame is a way of dishonoring ourselves." There is no place we have ever been that takes away our right to joy, love, compassion, kindness and happiness. Just by being here, breathing you have a right to all of those things.<br />
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5. Forgiveness. This is a biggie. It might be easy to forgive others, however, we often forget to forgive the one person we really need to and that is ourselves. When I was in high school, I was in a serious relationship. Although we cared for each other and loved each other, as you can imagine at that age it wasn't the healthiest relationship in the world. It took me a long time to heal from it. There were parts of myself that I gave away, parts of myself that I shoved down, lost, feared, disliked and the minute I started doing yoga, was the first time I caught a glimpse of what I needed to forgive. I have shed more tears on my mat than I would like to admit. I have bawled in class. I have sat there shaking while the teacher spoke. I have fallen a part on my mat and I am so thankful, because through that mess, I started to forgive myself. It was only through seeing my fears, vulnerabilities and viewed weaknesses that I could come to know them, love them and accept them. We have to forgive ourselves for the times we didn't know better, we have to forgive ourselves for the times when we've rejected our hearts, our own light and our own humanness. We have to forgive ourselves for not having the proper tools to cope with something, we have to forgive ourselves so that we can have ourselves. There isn't a piece missing. Everything is there. We just have to see ourselves through the lens that isn't skewed by what we think we should be for someone or something else.<br />
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6. Reclaim yourself. When I say we have to forgive ourselves in order to have ourselves, I mean that sometimes we forget that we are whole. We have everything we need in this moment. There's nothing wrong with you, nothing you need to fix or change. There's nothing that can take your power away. There's no one thing that can take you away from who you came here to be. BAM. Say that to yourself, soak it in, because it's everything.<br />
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7. You are whole, you are powerful, you are loved. Freedom is a choice.<br />
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Everything is moving us back to wholeness. <br />
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Go live. </div>
Sarah Rumseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09342531912741902880noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411368739123131972.post-33558714007662835952014-12-01T11:12:00.002-08:002015-06-14T20:19:10.637-07:00The Decision of a Lifetime<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The sunshine streams into the windows and she can already feel the warmth of the room on her skin. She's been in this room over a hundred times. It reminds her every day to be who she is, to step out of the familiar and into the unknown. She presses her feet into her dark blue mat. She's been here too over a hundred times, but it's different. Each day brings her somewhere new, some place she's never been before. Each new day asks her how far she will go. How deeply will she dig and does she have the courage? Each time, she answers. The answer is always the same, but comes in different forms. As she steps her right foot forward, she stretches her left leg back. She reaches her hands to the ceiling and feels her chest lift and her heart expand. She closes her eyes and breathes. The breath is steady, strong and controlled. She draws her palms to her heart, creating even more space as she inhales. She takes her elbow across her knee and holds. Steady, steady. She feels her face heat up. She exhales digging more deeply. There's more space than there was the day before, week before, month before, year before. She twists. Holding steady, feeling the twist, she softens. She remembers. Being in the corner of a similar room, in a different city doing the exact same thing. It was the first time she slowed down long enough to feel the breath moving inside of her. As she twisted many years ago it was like extracting a huge boulder out of her belly. It was something that felt enormous. Now all she feels is space; raw, empty, vulnerable space. Releasing the pose, she drops both hands down placing them to the inside of the ankle. She begins to slowly come down onto her forearms. She can feel herself shake. The sweat now dripping from her forehead, she feels a hot tear streaming down her face. Her breath is no longer steady. This is the place, the place she fears. She softens further into the pose with an exhale and drops her hips lower as she slowly brings her knee to the floor to stop the shaking. This is the place she decides how deeply she will let go. She's been here before. She remembers it from the first class she ever took. The feelings of judgement, fear, doubt, guilt, shame all lifting as she lets drops to the floor, not being able to hold herself up. The sweat pools off her forehead and down her cheeks, she feels herself releasing, surrendering, crying, grieving. As the tears now pool onto her mat, she presses her palms down and lifts her chest. She feels her heart expand again on an inhale, more space. Tears continue to roll down her cheeks. She closes her eyes and can feel the sunlight penetrating her skin as it floods in through the window. She holds there, breathing. Her breath begins to slow down as she continues to pick herself up off the floor. Now standing, eyes closed, heart open, she spreads her fingers, arms are down by her side. With an inhale she sweeps her arms up and on an exhale she folds, with another exhale she folds even deeper. She continues to move to the sound of her breath, each one getting stronger and stronger. She feels her past melting off of her. The burden of perfectionism slides down her spine and into the mat as she folds further breath by breath. Sweeping her arms up she feels herself enlivened, moving from pose to pose, she pauses. With her arms stretched out she feels the world around her fade, the only thing she can feel, see, touch, taste is her own strength. Pressing down through her legs, she slows down taking her palms back to her heart, she inhales and draws her elbow over her thigh. She feels the strength in her back leg, with her legs steady, she moves in. The breath circulates through her body, and she feels it. Holding steady, she twists further on the exhale. Space. She feels more space as she twists. Releasing the pose she moves both hands to the inside of her ankle and begins to drop down onto the floor, even though she's alone she can hear the echoes of her teachers. "Let go, let go, let go, surrender, step into your light." Once again she feels herself soften, this time she embraces the floor. The tears coming from the depth of her soul, she begins to feel herself smile through the tears. It's a smile from the core of her. It's the smile of victory. Not the kind of victory we think of when we've won something, rather it's the smile of knowing, knowing that in the deepest, darkest moments we are given a choice. As she lifts her forehead from the floor, she presses her palms back into her mat. Lifting her chest, her heart now exposed, she chooses.... To love herself over and over, to forgive herself over and over and to embrace the light and the dark over and over, laughter and tears, surrender and freedom, the known and the unknown all for the decision of a lifetime... to live, not just be alive but to live. Embracing herself she chooses to step into her light, her tears, her laughter, her sorrows, her joys, her darkness, her pain, her empathy and the beautiful heart she knows is hers. Tomorrow, she will meet herself again, and the choice will be hers. Every day is a day we have the decision of a lifetime, to simply be alive or to truly live.<br />
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Let's choose... to LIVE! :)</div>
Sarah Rumseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09342531912741902880noreply@blogger.com2