I’ve noticed that resistance comes up for me when things do not happen according to my plan. This might sound ridiculous and somewhat amusing because as we age, we gain more life experience, and with that experience comes the realization that we have very little control. As a recovering perfectionist and a city girl, the lessons learned while living on a farm and working outdoors have been profound. One of the most significant lessons has been the art of leaning in.
No human can control the weather, but rather than anxiously waiting for just the right weather, I have learned how to lean into and embrace the elements when hosting equine therapy or any events at Thrive Farm. Surprisingly, making a covered fire outside during the rain has turned out to be one of the most beautiful experiences here at Thrive Farm. It’s a testament to the beauty that unfolds when we release our grip on control and perfectionism, choosing to embrace what is, as it is.
In relationships, I have spent countless days over the years resisting what is, making things harder than necessary because of expectations beyond my control.
On my healing journey, I’ve discovered the importance of accepting things as they are and letting go of what no longer serves us. Yet, it seems no one talks about how we allow our own resistance to get in our way, nor do they talk about leaning into the pain points that hinder our growth and obstruct our path. What path, you may be thinking? The path to being our authentic selves, accepting who we are, loving ourselves, and dealing with our grief and pain.
A few weeks ago, I had an amazingly cathartic experience while getting a large breast tattoo on my double mastectomy reconstruction boobs.
I never wanted fake nipples: tattooed nipples, 3-D nipples, surgically created nipples with grafted skin felt like an inauthentic expression of my forever changed body. They seemed like a fake reminder of my formerly fake life. Instead, I wanted flowers and butterflies that express my uniquely beautiful womanhood, symbolizing my strength and power as a thriving warrior goddess (y’all know how I feel about the term “survivor!”).
Years ago, I saw tattoos I loved by an artist in California, but they stopped working during Covid, which was when I had cancer. It had been almost 4 years since my diagnosis when I found Maria, the owner’s wife at a local tattoo studio in Fort Oglethorpe, Georgia called The Helm. I saw her peonies on Instagram, I reached out, and we set up a time.
At the time of my tattoo session, I indulged in a big THC edible, settled into the chair, put on some tunes, and waited. The pain was greater than I thought possible because I have no real tissue other than the intentionally stretched skin over the post-cancer implants. I’m guessing the nerve endings are very close to the surface under the stretched skin. In the moment, I decided to lean into the physical pain on an emotional level. Think about it–people cut themselves to relieve emotional pain or to just feel something. I used the physical pain to lean into my lifespan and visit little Susie across many “lower t” trauma points. I spent some time with my very dysfunctional father who gave away my older siblings to a step parent, one of whom I only connected with last summer for the very first time. I saw the me that had her puppy taken away during a lonely childhood, and the me that never knew when my parents would stop fighting or if my dad would be okay after losing his money.
I dropped in on myself without judgment and with compassion for myself and my parents. Tears streamed down the sides of my face nonstop—for the pain my parents went through, to the generational traumas they passed to me that I, in turn, passed to my own kids.
Maria asked if I was okay, and her husband asked the same. I was okay. Better than okay. I was doing really hard work leaning in and loving myself while my body underwent transformation. Accepting all the crap as it is. Being content with who I am.
It was unexpected, but doing the work I’ve done over the past 4 years made this opportunity for the rebirth of my beautiful womanhood cathartic in a way I wouldn’t have experienced without leaning in to feel the emotions and letting little Susie know that big Susie has things now. That things are gonna be okay.
Leaning in is tough, powerful, and necessary for us to move forward as the best version of our true selves. Loosening the grip on fear, pain, grief takes courage, but leaning in takes more than courage. It means you are allowing yourself to be with your pain, accepting it as part of your soul while simultaneously letting those parts of you lose their power over you. This way, the fear and grief subside rather than take over.