Welcome home to our internal sanctuary
Have you ever thought about what you would say to your younger self? The one struggling with body image, with sexuality, self-expression, safety?
I intentionally practice this often because each of those younger versions still lives within me. Just as yours still live within you. And sometimes, we may slip back into those old ways of being because they’re familiar. They’re not necessarily comfortable or likeable, but we know what to expect. And when that happens, we can listen to them and hear what they’re saying. Because at the end of the day, they just want to be heard, with no advice offered. I don’t know about you, but my younger self knew it all. She didn’t want to hear anything from anyone. She had the answers. She just wanted someone to listen to her fantastical view of the world and tell her “yes.” But as I listen to these parts of myself, what I hear so often is “I’m scared and I’m lonely.”
As I lovingly look back upon these previous versions of me, I just want to hug them. I want to scoop them up, place them in my lap, and play with their hair, scratch their back, rock them to sleep, sweetly hum in their ear. And so I do just that in my mind and in the differentiation work I practice. They don’t like it at first. They have some thick ass walls—nay, a mile wide mote—around them. They don’t want to let anyone close out of fear of being let down, manipulated, taken advantage of. They lived alone on an island because there was safety in isolation. But eventually, with consistency, these parts of me started to soften and welcome the visitors.
I’ve spent years now studying and practicing attachment theory, internal family systems, nervous system regulation, and more, all ways to better understand why I am the way that I am and how I could become who I wanted to become: a deeper, truer, more authentic expression of Me. Who am I beyond the trauma, the conditioning, the loneliness? Who am I at the marrow of my soul, as Elizabeth Lesser says?
Ayurveda has given me the language, tools, and visceral Knowing that what I am, what we all are at the marrow of our souls, is bliss, radiance, and Love. Some wisdom traditions consider the head to be the seat of consciousness (a very patriarchal understanding) but in Ayurveda, the heart is actually the seat of consciousness.
The heart, y’all, the heart. It always comes back to the heart.
Those previous versions of me had a heart like a cadbury egg: thick and protective of its ooey gooey middle center. She pretended like things didn’t bother her. She was the “cool girl” who just went with the flow and never spoke up, living on her island of isolation believing that having no needs made her easier to love. But in reality, I was resentful inside. It showed up in my hormones, my digestion, my insomnia, my harsh inner critic. Glennon Doyle said it so perfectly in her book Love Warrior, “No woman on earth doesn’t give a fuck—no woman is that cool—she’s just hidden her fire. Likely, it’s burning her up.”
That’s exactly what was happening to me. I was burning up, and burning out.
It’s because of Ayurveda that I was able to turn toward the smoldering fire and rekindle it in healthy ways that illuminated my desires for connection and purpose. There’s a whole branch of Ayurvedic medicine dedicated specifically to rejuvenation, which applies to the body, mind and heart. Food was only a small portion of that process, which was a relief because I was tired of obsessing over food. It was keeping me small (literally and figuratively) and distracted. Luckily, the majority of rejuvenation protocols have to do with the thoughts, words, and actions of our daily life which have the greatest impact on restoring and rejuvenating overall wellbeing.
There’s a list of 23 practices from the ~3,000 year old seminal text of Ayurveda and I chose a few to focus on:
Truthfulness. I had to be honest with myself about what I wanted for my life, how I wanted to relate to myself, others, the world. I had to be honest about what was working and what wasn’t working, what I was willing to give up so I could free myself from harmful patterns.
Letting go of anger. This wasn’t so much about never getting angry as it was to make friends with my anger and actually allow it to be expressed and released in ways that don’t cause harm to anyone. I’ve learned some incredible somatic practices to support me in this journey. The rage can be real…IS real…and especially in women who have generations of silenced ancestors living in them. Gotta let that anger flow like lava lest it burn you up from the inside out.
Devoted to love and compassion. If love is what we are (and I believe it is), then why not devote myself to cultivating more of it within me so I may become a conduit for its flow? This actually started with loving things outside of me first as a mirror for how to love the things inside of me. I used to believe the old saying “you can’t love anyone until you love yourself” but I don’t anymore. Because we’re wired for connection and we learn to love from and with other people. On the days we’re struggling or when we make a mistake, we’re still worthy of love and we’re worthy of having someone remind us of that.
Since devoting myself to these practices (and having built upon them), I can look back on my past selves with so much compassion. I can see the pain and suffering trapped in their body. I can feel the defeat and despair when they finally lay in my lap and let me play with their hair. And I’ve welcomed them home into our shared inner sanctuary. We eat together, dance together, pray together, cry together, rest together. We are Whole, together.
I tell my 6 year old shy, scared self who loved to sketch and draw, “your artwork is beautiful, your creativity is inspiring, and to please never stop. Keep playing and experimenting.”
I tell my 14 year old self who just started her period and had no one to talk to “this transition may feel annoying and confusing as you learn the language of your body but you are powerful beyond belief. And your period is evidence of the sacred power already residing within you.”
I tell my 20 year old self who’s struggling with body image and disordered eating, “you’re already worthy and beautiful. And while some women’s bodies are held on pedestals and plastered across every magazine cover, they struggle too. Soften into your Wholeness, my love. Your body doesn’t define your worth.”
I tell my 27 year old self who was deep in the throes of alcohol abuse to escape the life she no longer wanted, “you can change your mind, your job, your beliefs, your desires. You’re allowed to change. So go on and get to it. You don’t need anyone else’s permission. Grow, baby, grow.”
And I can’t wait for what future Me will offer current Me when the time comes.
What did younger versions of you need to hear from a wise, beloved elder? Picture them now. See them held in a glowing, golden light of healing, and say the words you needed to hear back then. Then give yourself a hug and welcome that part of you home, to your own inner sanctuary.