The Girl Who Surrendered and Nevertheless Persisted

    “Nevertheless, She Persisted”.  We are all familiar with this phrase. It has, since February of 2017, become a popular hashtag and meme, and it is associated with Elizabeth Warren, Hillary Clinton, and the feminist movement.  If you are not familiar with it, you will be if you are driving behind me. It is on my bumper sticker, and on not just one, but 2 t-shirts I own.  Even though it started as a derogatory comment in a political setting, for me it’s not a political statement at all-  it’s personal. It’s symbolic of my trials and tribulations over the past few years. It’s symbolic of my harrowing yet fulfilling journey of self-discovery. It’s symbolic of the life changing events myself and many of my friends have been through.  It defines me, and I am proud to stand tall and shout it from a mountaintop: Nevertheless, I have persisted!!

     A few years ago I’m pretty sure I would not have been able to say this phrase with any conviction.  A few years ago I felt as though I’d hit rock bottom in the hole I’d dug myself into and would never find my way out. I was ashamed and sad and felt as though I’d failed not just myself but everyone around me.  Even though I had a boyfriend and friends and family that loved me, I was broken, and when you are broken, you can’t feel that love and you can’t love back.  I’m not sure how I got into such a dark place.  Oh wait….maybe because many of the things they say can break a person happened to me all at once: Divorce, the death of a friend, loss of a job (in my case more than one), a couple of big moves, and chronic illness (those migraines I keep talking about).  I was close to 50, had no money, was in fact buried under debt, no hope of my dreams coming true, and felt like all the wheels I’d put into motion for most of my adult life had come to a screeching halt.  I didn’t see a way back to good.  I was too old, too broke, too sad, too sick.  The only thing I could do that didn’t take any effort was to sleep, and sleep I did, all night and all day, everyday.  Honestly, I don’t think I cared if I ever woke up again.  (Eventually I pulled myself out of this despair, which you can read about in another blog post I wrote called “Unintended Collateral Magical Consequences”).  I don’t want to dwell on that bad place, but I need to paint a picture so the rest of this story makes sense.  You see, even though I was a complete wreck, just one small catastrophe away from a nervous breakdown, I did my best to hide all this pain. I pulled myself together enough to get to work or teach or exercise or go to a social function, but I felt like I was dying inside.  Finally, I  had to let myself fall. I surrendered to my suffering, so to speak, and in doing so realized that it was the best thing I would ever do.  It’s not easy, especially if you don’t have a support system (in which case I don’t know what I would’ve done).  It takes so much courage and at the same time it is the scariest thing in the world.  I called everyone close to me and told them of my ordeals and how bad it was and that I just couldn’t go on living this way anymore. Long story short-I spent a week in a hospital, and then, with the help and support of my boyfriend, packed up and moved back to Colorado.  Most of you know the rest of the story.  Colorado has been incredibly healing and I am doing much better.  What you don’t know is how I came to being one that “persists”.  So, here is the rest of the story, which is hopefully much more uplifting than what I started with:

     This past weekend a friend came to visit, someone I actually didn’t know all that well, and I hesitated when she asked if she could stay with me (her other accommodations had fallen through).  I came up with every excuse in the book: the house is a mess, the guest room needs painting, what if I get a migraine, what if I just want to lay around and not play tour guide, what if we decide after 7 years apart we don’t really like each other?   But then a little voice inside my head said: “What if it’s wonderful and magical and you form a life long friendship?” (Which it was and we did). So I said, absolutely, yes, come out, stay with us, and let’s do all kinds of fun things.  And fun we had, hiking and sunrise yoga at Red Rocks ( Me, a girl who has only seen a sunrise because she’s stayed up too late!), a day trip to Boulder, and talking, talking, talking. We talked from the minute she got off the plane till the minute she got back on.  Not only did we have a lot of catching up and getting to know each other to do, but we also discovered we are practically the same person.  She too, endured an incredibly difficult period in her life a few years back (including not wanting to get out of bed).  She too, has all the same insecurities I have.  She too, is reinventing herself at 50-something.  She too, surrendered to the fall and came back up fighting. She too, persists.  We realized that we come from such similar backgrounds, and we were both brought up believing that by our age we should’ve had children and a successful career and be well on our way to retirement. We are both doing our best to prove that theory is wrong. As she pointed out, we’ve spent the last 30 or so years as adults becoming who we are, and surely we have at least another 30 to discover new dreams, talents, and perhaps a new life entirely.

     On our trip to Boulder, we met up with another friend of hers that had her own story of hell and back to tell, and it got me thinking about some of my other friends that have struggled as of late-bad marriages, financial troubles, addictions, all the complications that come from “adulting”.  I had this epiphany; that when I was so self absorbed in my own drama, I never realized other people close to me were also suffering, and guess what? We’re all still here to tell our stories.  It turns out that all of us think we are too old to fall and get back up again, that starting over at our age is not an option. It turns out that all of us have something we are ashamed of, whether it’s substance abuse or failing in our work or staying in bad relationships. It turns out we all turn to something outside of ourselves for comfort, something to fill that emptiness, be it food, alcohol, drugs, sleep, sex, parties, caffeine, sugar, religion, etc.  My yoga instructor said something interesting: that even if we go from these unhealthy addictions to healthy ones, we are still seeking approval outside of ourselves.  We may think that yoga, hiking, meditation, eating right, friendships and love are all healthy choices, but we still beat ourselves up if we don’t accomplish one or more of them every day.   We are constantly looking for a job or relationship or physical perfection to define us. And when does it stop? Are we ever ok just being in the moment, just being who we are? 

    My visiting friend and I, we share a similar struggle and it is in this struggle that we bond, along with the 2500 other people who attended the Yoga at Red Rocks. We were all there to find strength and healing, we were all there to find our inner warriors, and yet our instructor told us, it is ok to be a “vulnerable warrior”.  Yoga takes great discipline and strength, but it is ok to wobble and even fall before we find our balance. How ironic it is that we are taught from an early age to be strong, fearless, and stoic, but the real strength lies in our vulnerability. It is okay to fail, to feel shame, to cry, to hurt, and even to change our life plan mid-life. It is okay to find value in just the way we are, without society telling us to be thin or wear make up or get botox or have the perfect job. We are born as worthwhile human beings, yet these voices in our head tell us we are not enough—do more, be more, have more. I’m not saying we shouldn’t strive, but sometimes I get tired of striving.  I am saying to not ever give up on who you are, because who you are is enough, just in itself.  There is beauty and love everywhere, all around us, in our friendships and music and yoga class and in the mountains and at the beach. But there is also beauty and love inside our own souls, and if you are brave enough to dig deep you can find it. I’m not sure I really believed or felt this until I looked around at the thousands of other wounded souls in that amphitheatre who showed up at the crack of dawn for yoga. We weren’t all here for yoga in the most gloriest of places, we were here for harmony and bonding and just to feel alive. I thought to myself, on that gorgeous early morning, how grateful I am that I said YES to my friend, how grateful I am that we are renewing our friendship, how grateful I am that I met her in the first place, and how grateful I am every day that I fell down hard and  picked myself up again . In that moment I realized that if I had not let myself fall, I would not be on this rock doing yoga with this delightful new/old friend. I would never have discovered that I am not alone in my suffering and my triumphs. I would not have had this magical and inspirational weekend. I would not have found the new teaching job I’m starting this fall. I would not have met the many new wonderful friends I have, or re-connected with cherished old ones. I would not be writing this blog. I think about the strong women I know and the other strong women who are role models in our society- the ones responsible for the title of this story, and I wonder what their stories are. What have they all endured to get where they are, and what they are still enduring after falling down.  I am so happy to be a part of their tribe. I am so proud to say, after all I’ve been through: Nevertheless, This Vulnerable, Humble, Warrior Goddess Persists!

Peace, Love, and Namaste,

Sunnie