Uncomfortable Underwear
As a shopper I’ve always been the type to beeline towards whatever I’m looking for - get in, get out. I don’t linger, I don’t browse. Try on, buy, leave. This has led to some regrettable purchases, including some uncomfortable underwear.
I’m like this in life, too. I prefer to get from A to B with little fuss in between. Doesn’t mean it’s always easy, but my determination is a force to be reckoned with. This has led to a varying degree of experiences, including numerous uncomfortable ones.
When I can’t forge ahead I sit down, legs crossed, the play of a pout on my lips. I’m left in the swirl of not knowing. I do not like not knowing. In this place, I have nothing but time. Time I didn’t ask for, time that means I don’t know where to go or what I need - zero control. I’ve always preferred control, even if it means wasted resources and discomfort.
I’ve been sitting here a lot lately. I’ve been asked to surrender, to let go of control, to not know. In this liminal space where I practice SLAR (surrender, let go, allow, receive) daily, I’ve discerned a few things. Turns out not knowing isn’t a punishment. Not knowing has led me to ask myself: Who am I? What do I want? Why do I want it? What lights me up? Spending time with what I’ve compiled and getting rid of the things I’ve held onto but never wear has been a sort of ritualistic purging. I’ve accumulated a closet full of crap, a closet full of things that aren’t me, that don’t represent what I want.
With the clutter gone, I’ve been left with empty space, a fertile void. This process has me raw, exposed, vulnerable, tender. Stripped away from everything I thought I was or was supposed to be, I’m met with the wounds that haven’t been tended, the joys unexpressed, the grief bubbling below, the mystery and magick of Kerrie waiting to be discovered. Yet, I’m more comfortable in my body. I speak the language of my heart and am learning to follow. I’ve befriended my meaning making mind and can let the stories play out without defining me. Sometimes it’s effortless, other times it means SLAR -slow down, turn inwards, and sit (like literally on my meditation blanket).
The journey of self-discovery has been an arduous one. Not to say it’s over, but I’ve anchored into a sense of Self, I have a place to return to when I drift in the turbulent waters. Something to help pull me back up when I’m down in the depths. Building trust, remembering my wholeness, and communing with something bigger than myself, that shits working.
It turns out not knowing has been the impetus for my most prized discovery - me. I’m meeting myself for the first time. I’ve begun to explore what I want, and why. I’ve been unapologetically chasing joy, noticing the places that bring me to life - something that is often promoted but then frowned upon if not done within the prescribed criteria; monetary success, retirement, then joy. Deepening in relationships and community, connecting with my body, nature, and spirit, creating something that can support others on a similar journey - this lights me up - this is what I’m after, and I’m finding ways to do it outside the systems that cause harm.* Turns out when you look to the world around you to tell you who you are, you’re going to end up with a closet full of lies.
For the first time in my life my underwear is so fucking comfortable. I wish the same for you.
*I hold privilege that gives me opportunities to pursue this ‘fuck the systems’ route. Part of my dedication and passion to finding my way is to be a part of making this possible for others who don’t hold the same privileges.