OPEN JOURNAL #2 - A Vulnerability Experiment

I can’t tell you how many times I almost deleted this post. My mind kept spinning: 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘳𝘢𝘸? 𝘛𝘰𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭? 𝘛𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩? But something deeper kept saying — 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺.

Welcome back to 𝑶𝑷𝑬𝑵 𝑱𝑶𝑼𝑹𝑵𝑨𝑳: 𝑨 𝑽𝒖𝒍𝒏𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝑬𝒙𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕.

These words are pieces of me — thoughts caught in motion, truths that felt real at the time they were written.

Some of it may resonate. Some of it may not. That’s okay.

I’m sharing this as a practice in stretching the edges of my own authenticity — and maybe, in doing so, inviting you to stretch yours too.

I’ve removed names, dates, and locations to protect privacy — but not the truth.

That part remains intact.

Thank you for witnessing.

With love, 

Stephanie

With love, 

Stephanie

👇🏼👇🏼👇🏼👇🏼👇🏼👇🏼👇🏼👇🏼👇🏼👇🏼

 OPEN JOURNAL: 

A Vulnerability Experiment

#2

Body is on the edge of being sick. Coming down from some high-flying swirly energies. My throat is affected, as is my desire to express.

My energy turns inwards, yet still feels restless - looking for distractions - because something from the depths is surfacing…

What’s arising for me now is (family member) and her anger. Scenes flashing before my eyes of her smashing plates, bottles, telephones, throwing anything in sight, screaming a constant stream of obscenities at fever pitch - in a fit of rage and frustration, absolutely unable to cope with her own inner despair.

It doesn’t feel safe to be near her. It probably doesn’t feel safe to BE her.

When she was loving and joyful and generous, it was contagious and beautiful - sometimes even embarrassing.

When she was angry, paranoid, and desperate, she became a raging storm - and none of it made sense.

I hated her then - so profoundly.

I hated how she would turn on me in a flash, making me and anyone around her the enemy.

She demolished my trust, again and again, until my nervous system could no longer stay to ‘keep the peace’.

Do I trust her now?

No. But I am curious.

She gave me a fast-track to learning how NOT to be. For this I am grateful.

Our souls chose each other for this journey of waking up. For this I am grateful.

I see that she never felt chosen - and so she never fully chose herself or her loved ones. She chose, instead, to live in the wound.

I have carried her burdens… no more…. 

I am learning how to choose myself, choose love, choose joy, choose forgiveness and acceptance while no longer enabling or tolerating abuse.

I am learning the importance of building bridges, rather than burning them.

…That mutual respect is necessary for meeting in the middle of the bridges we build.

I don’t know if she and I will ever meet in the middle.

I’m not sure I even desire to open myself to her again, to walk across.

The weeds of mistrust have deep roots in our garden. Do I want to cultivate this weed-filled garden or simply migrate to the gardens that nourish me?

Maybe, if life allows, we will plant a new garden in soils that have become fertile from all the slow and tender decomposition of our previous pains.

In the meantime, I feel myself blossoming.

And I’m cultivating my own garden.