talking to the demons that greet us faithfully every morning

It is in our most vulnerable moments — those few instances between sleep ebbing away and consciousness coming fully to the fore — that all our insecurities attack us.

As though they had been lying in wait,

watching the last of our dreams and the peacefulness of our sleep dissolve into nothingness, as though they hadn't kept us company throughout the night,

and now, when we're deprived of even the company of nothingness, there is nothing to keep our worst insecurities at bay,

and they spring upon us, ambush us, and overpower us in an instant,

despite all our meditations and journaling,

pooh-poohing all our breathing exercises and body grounding sessions,

cruelly mocking what we proudly claimed was our journey of inner work and healing.

Even after all these years of writing (20+) and being a parent (9+), there are several mornings when I wake up feeling completely ill-equipped to face the day,

wishing I could stay in bed for longer without duties and responsibilities to force me up and out into action,

or conversely wishing I had something to look forward to — especially beauty, ease, and trust — all of which seem to be in short supply at times when I need them the most.

Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that KrA is away this week, so it's only D and me together on this long weekend (Thanksgiving, that too) and for most of this school week,

and the mere thought of getting through all the household chores, all the activities D and I have planned to do, making healthy meals — do you see how writing and exercising haven't found mention until now in my list of priorities? — makes me feel all grumpy and annoyed and upset and sad before the day has even begun.

I feel terrified that I won't be able to get through all the things that need to be done,

that I'd get angry and snappy in the process and cast an annoyed remark my child's way, only to later wonder why I'm not able to waltz through life in the seemingly effortless way so many others seem capable of,

that I'd do something as unhelpful as eating a bar of chocolate for that sugar rush to soothe my anxieties and give me a sense of support, even if temporarily, only to feel immense guilt and inadequacy a while later.

The funny thing is that I've been here before countless times.

This isn't the first time these insecurities have sprung at me and kept me paralyzed in inaction, unable to think of anything other than how insurmountable the mountain is, the mountain of merely getting through the day.

It is on days like these that we need our greatest self-compassion. It is a skill to be acquired, no doubt.

I have no interest in going down the past and talking about unhealed childhood trauma.

Trauma is real, but in most circles discussions around it come tagged with a sense of entitlement as though one shouldn't have had to go through difficult times,

but such a thing is impossible to achieve in an imperfect world full of imperfect people.

Emotional pain is a universal human experience; there is no life devoid of pain.

Yes, there are lives devoid of the skills required to address and soothe this pain in a healthy way, and that is something we can address.

So, this morning,

as we wake up feeling insecure and terrified that we'd completely botch this day,

that we'd be unable to handle everything that's coming our way,

that we'd give in to those old habits of blaming and shaming, of being rude and annoyed,

of wishing we were someone else, somewhere else, doing something else, anything but these mundane daily tasks of living and writing and being a parent and retaining our sanity in the midst of the relentless demands of our daily lives,

let us treat ourselves with the kindness and gentleness we'd show a child who, say, doesn't wish to go to school,

how we'd listen to their worries, help them feel seen and heard and understood, and in doing so, instil in them the strength and courage to face whatever the day brings.

If we can summon our inner wise self to speak to our present self with kind, soothing words of comfort and assurance,

instead of wishing we didn't have these demons to deal with or that we were a different kind of person who'd automatically know what to do,

that initial acceptance would give us enough strength to start to pull ourselves out of the rubble of worries and anxieties that we were buried under

and set about the day, even when we feel messy, incompetent, and incapable.

And that is my wish for both you and me this morning, dear Dreamer!