Spacious.

I’m re-watching Shrinking on Apple TV. A girl in the show, grieving the loss of her mother, sucks back some laughter that started to spill out of her.

She admits she feels it’s wrong to smile. Like she’s not allowed to experience joy while grieving.

The next day I’m talking to someone who wants their sadness to go away so they can feel excited. 

I realize I hear these sentiments almost everyday.

Every day we forget how spacious we are. 

I’m writing a book right now. 

As I draft, I’m feeling painfully averse to the possibility that I’ll complete it and think “it’s not good enough.” That I’d have to rewrite it and that would be overwhelming.

I’m afraid of feeling defeated. And feeling afraid tends to piss me off. I spend a decent amount of time spiraling between frustration and despair over it.

I’m feeling the “bad” things.

And, I feel optimistic, hopeful, and excited. About the vision, the journey, the experience, all of it.

The “good” feelings aren’t here in spite of the fear and anger and despair. They’re partially because of them.

These “bad” feelings let me know what my standards are. They give me the diligence to work with intention. I’m bound to get the outcome I want largely because my frustration demands it. This determination inspires my hope. My optimism. My excitement.

Meanwhile my despair reminds me to focus on what’s in my control.

There’s enough space for all of it and I love every bit of it, knowing by now that I cannot have one without the other. These feelings aren’t enemies. They work in tandem to move me through.

As the scene continues on tv, the girl surrenders to her spaciousness. Still grieving, she finds her laugh and sets it free.

Grief and joy can exist in the same space.

Sadness and excitement can exist in the same space. 

Anger and compassion can exist in the same space.

All of your feelings already coexist in the same body. 

It’s usually when we stop fighting the ones we struggle with that we realize the others were already there, waiting to join in.

One of the big things stopping us is the assumption that feelings aren’t allowed to coexist. That they’re inherently “conflicting” so we must trade off one for the other, and the one we don’t like needs to get out of the way. 

We drive ourselves insane trying to force this. Being so angry with our sadness that we don’t realize all we needed to do was unlock the door for excitement to come in the room - whether sadness is there or not.

It can stay. It’s not the problem. Just invite what you’re missing to join you and balance things out.

See what it looks like for the whole of you to be allowed in the room.

There’s enough space. Promise.

Rooting for You, 

Tori