All Over The Place

I feel all over the place today. I am struggling to settle.

I woke up and my beloved wasn't in bed next to me. Immediately, a wave of sadness and aloneness washed over me. I padded into the living room expecting to find him in a standing meditation. I was greeted by a lit tealight burning in stillness, an angel statue and soft music - but no Nige; only the afterglow of his presence.

Anxious, I headed down the hallway to our second-bedroom-come-office, wondering if he'd gone out on his bike and realizing that I had a real sense of needing to connect with him this morning. Last night something happened which really upset me, core beliefs and deep wounds engulfing my body, heart and mind. I felt lost, alone, unworthy, unloveable, and ashamed as Nige and I drove back home, and it took a long pep talk with myself to coax me into sharing what was going on with him.

I wanted so much to be reassured by Nige this morning, to be held in his arms until all my fears and doubts melted away. Feeling very vulnerable wasn't on my agenda as I headed home yesterday afternoon; I spent the weekend assisting and supporting at a deeply transformative, life-changing, mindblowing workshop and had experienced, given and received so much love that I really wasn't expecting to conclude the whole experience with a sense of overwhelming brokenness.

As I stepped through the doorway into our office, there was Nige sitting at his computer, dressed and ready for work, a poem in front of him on the screen. I stopped, hoping he would stand up and come over to me, give me a hug and say good morning. He turned and looked at me, his face unsmiling, deep in thought, and he didn't get up.

I froze.

A moment of abandonment jolted in my stomach, and I said good morning. He didn't come over to me and I didn't go over to him. He told me he was working on changing a poem he'd written the day before, and read the new final stanza to me. Rejection burning in my solar plexus, I listened and put away socks, jumpers and the last few bits and pieces left over from my weekend. My head felt jarred, and his words hovered emptily in the room. I couldn't connect with them. I retreated into the kitchen, a storm brewing in my body, wondering how I could feel so crazy and disconnected after the utterly incredible weekend I had just experienced.

And all morning, this feeling has stayed with me.

What I don't want you to know is that I feel frightened today. I feel out of control in my life. I am having doubts about everything - about who I am, about what I have to bring to the world, about my worth. I am believing that I have nothing worthwhile to offer, that my contribution isn't wanted, impactful or valuable. I believe today that I am at the bottom of the pile, that I am last on the list, that I am one who gets forgotten about, missed, not seen, heard and loved.

All this despite - or perhaps in spite of - the soulful, authentic, overwhelming connection I experienced this weekend. I belief all this about myself today, despite being in this place just two days ago...

Beautiful Angels whispering words of truth to me - and me believing them

Coming back into my home environment has felt awkward, foreign and scary. An urge to bolt, to run away has risen up from inside my belly, and I have found myself thinking it would be easier to be dead, that somehow I need to be away from this life I am in. That some kind of peace or answer or solace is somewhere other than right here in my life right at this very moment.

If you know this place at all in your own life, you'll know that it is paralysing. Here, there is no breath, no room to create, no flow. Just fear, anxiety, shame, loneliness and sadness.

My very best thoughts and judgements on the world and what I experience in it have left me here - bruised, frightened and paralysed. And yet I know I have a choice. That's what prompted me to write this today. My resources feel depleted and yet I know that a different choice is available to me today, that somewhere inside of me is love and that I can depend on that love. 


So I pour out my worries and fears and know that if peace is my goal, they will dissolve, because my investment in believing them will be less than my desire to return to love.

What I don't want you to know is that I don't know what my next step is. I feel overwhelmed and worry that I'm spreading myself too thin. I am sensing that I need some extra support right now in my life, perhaps in the form of coaching or therapy. I need somewhere I can go and pour out all my worries and fears and confusion. I need some time and space just for me. I need to be able to receive, so that I can continue to let God work through me.

What I don't want you to know is that I have so much inside of me I want to share with the world - with you. A suspicion lurks inside me that I am not ready, that I am still too broken, that I am not capable of teaching or leading, and that I need the approval of certain people in my world before I can have faith and confidence in myself. Last night I looked for that approval and didn't find it - because my secret motive was to prove that I am indeed inadequate and not good enough yet. I have a blossoming mailing list and haven't written a single word to them yet. I have people wanting to collaborate and a sense of deep inferiority. I see how my ego is trying to lure me into failing, as 'proof' of its evaluation of who I am.

And yet... In the middle of this, there is a persistent voice whispering to me that now is the time and I am the one. 


So I am committing to transforming these beliefs, and remembering the Truth about myself.

And the Truth is...

I have a right to write whatever I want to and put it out into the world.
I am enough, just the way I am.
I am safe.
I am exactly where I need to be.
I am a blazing light.
I am beautiful.
I am an incredible teacher.
I am gifted.
I belong.
I am abundant. 
My contribution is valuable and valued.
I am inherently creative.
I am important.
And I am so, so, so loved.


I wonder what all these feeling and fears are really for, then? Deep breaths, and realising that as I take this step in articulating myself, I can in fact rely on myself for soothing, nurturing, reassurance and connection. I don't have to look outside of myself for validation. I don't have to rely on my partner to meet my needs - leaving us both free to actually be in relationship with each other. I know exactly what I need and I am able to ask for that and support myself in moving through fear and returning home to love.

And now, I am feeling grounded, present and peaceful again. So grateful for this space. So grateful I listened to the urge to write this morning. So grateful for you.

Love,
Elloa xx

Pretty ugly

Some days, I feel so ugly.

I know, I know; 'ugly isn't a feeling'.

But let me tell you - it is.

This is how ugly feels.

Ugly feels unloveable. Ugly feels alone. Ugly is rejected, less than, not worthy, not enough, weird, an outcast, beneath others, unsuccessful, unwanted, a rotting apple in the reduced section of a supermarket, shunned and shamed into a dark corner, handled and inspected, glanced at and then seen through, an object unworthy of attention, unworthy of being seen, unworthy of touch, tenderness or - God forbid - adoration.

Ugly is frozenness whenever a camera is around.

Ugly is wanting to smile but not allowing it in case anyone notices - and is repulsed by - the crookedness of your teeth.

See how this word, 'ugly', has wormed its way into my consciousness.

All I want is to feel pretty.

And then there is 'FAT'.

On a day when I 'feel' fat, I feel repulsive, disgusting, a freak, undisciplined, unloveable, a heifer, an object of ridicule, shame-ridden, guilt-ridden, gluttonous, less than human, deserving of judgement.

Being fat (even if it is only through my eyes and no one else's) means I have sacrificed the right to dignity, to pride, to loving myself or not being subjected to other people's opinions of Who I Am. Because I have let myself become Fat, and in so doing have given strangers permission to harass, ridicule and mock me, to make of me a freak show, a scapegoat, putty to be molded into any shape and size they want so long as they do not humanize me.

I have done all of these things to myself.

Because I believe I'm fat, I am a pig.

Because I believe I'm fat I don't have feelings.

Because I believe I'm fat I don't matter.

Because I believe I am fat, I live in hell.

See how this word, 'fat', has wormed its way into my consciousness.

All I want is to feel pretty.

Moreover, I am driven to be pretty, to make myself pretty; to shoehorn myself into 'slim', 'attractive', 'stylish', 'smooth', 'plucked', 'trim' and 'toned'. Not because I want to be an athlete, strong and feminine, awake to the power of my physicality. Not because I have authentically chosen this for myself.

No. Just because I believe that I need to be slim and pretty in order to think that I am allowed to feel  good about myself.

I have chosen this, for many, many years.

I have let my mind run riot.

And now I am asking the question: SAYS WHO?

-------

What if, by gathering with other women, we could change things?

What if we could change how we feel about ourselves?

What if we could find freedom?

Acceptance?

Joy?

Transparency?

True beauty?

Love?

LOVE.

What if, by gathering with real women, by sharing the scars that run so deep beneath the surface that they seem to have gouged away part of our sense of wholeness, we could realize that in truth, nothing has been lost, merely covered over?

What if we could un-cover (rather than re-cover) the sacred feminine presence that dwells within us?

True, it dwells so deep, in the realm of the inner child.

But stop for a moment and really consider this: What If?

This, my friends, is the purpose of the space I hold.

This is the reason we gather. We share stories. We reflect. We get quiet, and we speak, letting our voices cut through the barrage of cultural messages until they resonate clear and strong, until we can hear ourselves truly thinking our own thoughts, declaring what is true in the absence of all fear, declaring what is true when there is only love.

We gather so that we have the strength not to succumb to the thoughts we automatically  think when we see the latest make-up campaign (I am ugly and therefore all of the above). We gather to touch our own sorrow, to stand in the centre of the fire, face ourselves and face what we do to ourselves and say, 'ENOUGH. No more. I will not crucify myself like this any more.'

And it is gentle, this process. It is just one step at a time.

There is no pressure.

There is nothing to prove here.

No demands are made upon you.

You just come, and be as you are, and allow yourself to breathe, and listen, and observe, and feel.

You share if you want to share.

You say "no thank you" if you want to remain quiet.

And slowly, slowly, you and I and all the women in the circle remember that we are incredible, beautiful beings who have been given perhaps a few decades to simply shine our light.

It is time to get real about how we think and speak and feel about our bodies.

It's is time to let go of 'pretty'.

Love,

Elloa xx

P.S. I am starting a mailing list. To be on it, please send me an email to elloabarbour@gmail.com and I will add you to it. 

Screw Work, Let's Play

October is a big month for me. I am doing the Screw Work Let's Play 30 day challenge (hopefully continuing to forgive along the way!).

I will be uploading my progress from the challenge to this space, because I love this space, and because I know that my commitment is really going to be elsewhere.

All I can say, one day in, is that this challenge is frikkin' powerful. Deeply, deeply powerful.

May the miracles unfold...

My project is:

Starting a fortnightly women's circle in Steyning, West Sussex. The circle will be a place for women to come and share stories, express themselves in a brilliant variety of ways, sing, drum, play, dance, laugh, cry, weave dreams, and step into their magnificence.

On the 30 October at 5pm I will be sharing the following with the community as the output of my project:

I will have run my first women's circle (on October 18th - the room is booked!) and will be preparing for the second circle on November 1st. I'll write about the evening, including photos where appropriate, and will publish this on my blog and on this site. If the circle has covered my costs and generated my first playcheque, I will joyfully photograph it for you!

What excites me the most about this project is...

Stepping into my magnificence as I create a space for women to step into theirs. When women gather together, miracles happen. That I could be the conduit of that process is so, so exciting for me.

I am also excited at the picture I have in my mind of the kind of space the circle will be and of the atmosphere I envision for it. I intend to hold an amazing space for these everyday Goddesses.

What scares me the most about this project is...

Stepping into my magnificence. Excitement and fear are so closely intertwined for me. Specifically, inviting people to come along to the circle (inviting, not selling!) and the projected image in my mind of whether I'll be 'up to the job' of holding the space on the night and whether I'll 'perform' and 'be good enough' (thank you, Top Dog. Now get lost!)

I hereby commit to the 30 Day Challenge pledge because... 

I am ready to answer the call in my heart to step into leadership and take the action necessary to bring my dreams to life. It is time to shine!

Love,

Elloa xx

Messy Creative desk

Me, very excited, with almost finished flyers

Homemade flyers

It's the end of the world as we know it

September 30th 2011: Day 30 of The Forgiveness Project.

What an amazing month it has been. I know I haven't posted as much as I'd have liked to, but believe me, in the last couple of weeks there has been some hardcore healing going on! (Check out my makeover in the picture just below!)

First, there was the baby issue. I got broody, and it was a big deal to begin to discuss that issue with Nige, for lots of reasons, which I wrote about here.

Then there was the jealousy stuff, which arose more than once over the last couple of weeks, including today. When I get jealous, I truly believe that I am being left out, forgotten about, loved less than I was a moment before. It's as if love is a finite substance to be dished out in measured portions, and if I think or perceive that I'm getting any less in this moment than I like or want, out comes the second head, and within a split second I have an uncanny ability to remake myself in the image of Linda Blair in 'The Exorcist'. *shudders*

My new Facebook profile picture

I decided to forgive myself yesterday for not calling one of my elderly gardening clients for weeks on end, and I bit the bullet and called her. Apologising was hard; the guilt I was feeling rose briskly to the surface, glaring at me and telling me I ought to be ashamed of myself. I'd been avoiding that one moment of discomfort for ages, sitting instead with the ongoing sense of disquiet because I had let her down and really, had acted out of integrity. That just didn't sit comfortably with me. So I faced it, and called, and said my sorry, and it wasn't just waved away by her, which told me that perhaps I really had let her down. That was uncomfortable, too. But I am making my amends by taking her out in early November. And I can forgive myself for being imperfect.

What I keep discovering is this: through forgiveness, I have been given the ability to have the world as I know it end, and a new one begin, right in the moment of forgiving. This choice, which often is a shift so infinitesimal that it's barely noticeable, starts with simply being willing to see the situation that I am in differently. When I get stuck, that's all I need to ask myself: am I at least willing to see something different here? My answer is almost always "yes", which paves the way for a different, more empowering, freer and happier choice even before my ego has had a chance to object with "but...". When my answer isn't "yes, I'm willing to see this differently", I can clearly see that what I am saying is, "no, I don't want to see this differently. I am so convinced that I'm right, and I so want to be right that I'm willing to sacrifice my happiness just to prove a point". By which point I'm usually unable to uphold the insanity for a moment longer, and concede that yes, I am in fact willing to see this differently.

Then I remember that this is who I really am... xx

You see, the thing that I've re-learned this month is this: all power is of the mind. I can make or break my happiness with a thought. And it's all internal! There's nothing outside me that can make me truly happy if I am not willing to choose happiness for myself. Contrarily, nobody and nothing can make me unhappy if my heartfelt intention is to be at peace. Sooner or later, Love always wins. And that, in my life, is a fact.

As these 30 days draw to a close, I am about to embark on another 30 day adventure, this time of a very different kind. I'm doing the Screw Work Let's Play 30 day challenge, in which 200 groovy people, myself included, are bringing an idea of theirs to life. Wow! More on this over the next 30 days, but suffice to say that this is a huge leap into my magnificence, the bringing to life of one of my dreams and a far out soul project all rolled into one. More very shortly on that.

But for now, how was September for you? What is the one main lesson you're taking from it? I'd love to hear.

Au revoir, September. You've been a corker.

I sang my heart out

I want to celebrate how amazing I am with you

so that you can celebrate you with me

together we can stand tall, beaming, blossoming

free.

Simply loving

smiling

dancing

encouraging

hugging

yes-ing

listening

nodding

understanding

creating

playing

expressing

leaping

jumping

twirling

thanking

sparkling

shining bright

growing and learning

sowing

and reaping

and all the hundreds of other

beautiful ways

to extend love in this

tender, delicate world - 

in so much need of you

and me

celebrating

being 

us.

Last night, I did it. I did it! Heart thumping so hard in my chest that I could see my clothes beating on my skin, my throat constricted, noticing the beautiful trees, unable to avoid seeing the big audience, I sang the song that was given me to sing - 'Tell Me On A Sunday', from the musical of that name.

It wasn't perfect. 

I missed the top notes, a second here, a second there.

But...

I did not fail. I did not mess up. 

I did the very best that I could. And I am PROUD of myself.

Sure I made a couple of mistakes; I'm human, and I'm an inexperienced singer. BUT! I was present, I sang with my heart beating wildly, and I imagined that all the audience were my friends, there to support and encourage me, to cheer me on (and they were, and they did). I gave it all that I had, and when that voice started its oh-so-predictable, unsolicited feedback afterwards, I took a deep breath, held my head high and ignored it. 

I ignored it!! Perhaps bigger than the achievement of singing in front of 150 people was the fact that I managed to choose again, to change my mind, without fits of tears, a tornado of self-hatred passing through my horizons. Not last night - it was just on the periphery, just breezing through town. I heard the loving feedback that I received:

Perfect pitch

Potential

Presence

Beautiful

Heartfelt

Lovely

Wonderful

A nice voice

Thank you! Thank you. I am letting it sink in. So often, I notice that as a woman, I just brush compliments aside. Well today I am breathing in and letting your words sink in. Thank you. My young, tender heart was nourished so deeply with your kind words and love.  And I'm so grateful too that you acknowledged my mistakes without shaming me, or placing any real importance on them. My mistake was just a moment of fear, and a few singing lessons and a bit more experience singing in public will certainly sort that out! For once, I am comfortable with being imperfect. It's wonderful!

And guess what... I really, really loved it. I love performing!

As well as the solo, I sang in two four-part harmony songs, and did the 'Cell Block Tango' from Chicago with the girls. I just LOVED 'Cell Block Tango' (I played June: "He ran into my knife. He ran into my knife ten times!") Fishnet tights, moody, intense - right up my street.

Afterwards (e.g. after I'd taken the really scary step!), a professional actor who was also in the cast has suggested a show that she thinks would really suit me, so I'm going to go away and look into that. By stepping through my fear to the other side, I have found that another door opens - I didn't know I'd be given such experienced, specific guidance as that.

In addition, a friend has asked if I would be in a music video for her (and Nige too!). Suddenly, all these exciting creative projects are flowing to me - and I keep on saying YES (thank you again, Julia and Alia for being continued inspirations to me).

So I'm celebrating. Head held high. I took up space in the world last night, deliberately and consciously, and it was more than okay - it was fun, entertaining, it connected me to people, I was part of something and we raised a big bunch of money for charity (amount tbc here soon!).

Hoooooorrrrraaaaaaaayyyyy!

The Girls singing 'Cell Block Tango' from Chicago
(can you see me in the middle?!)