Here's to showing up imperfectly, every day.

(originally posted to substack 19.4.26)

I stretch towards spring like a cat reaching for that patch of sunlight streaming in through the window. I yearn for it endlessly and yet it remains just out of reach. It’s in touching distance. I see pictures on Substack from people in other corners of the world documenting how spring has already arrived for them, earlier than here and it makes me ache. Here in Denmark, Spring is dragging its heels, we linger in the in-between. The buds are slowly pushing their way out of otherwise barren branches, the sun is gracing us more and more often with it’s golden presence and the birds bless us with their cacophonous harmony all day long. Yet in the mornings frost coats each blade of grass, clings to the seat of my bike waiting for me outside the front door, as if winter is still unwilling to loosen it’s grip. It feels as though it is clinging on for dear life in the peripheries of the day, blustering through its middle upon a chill in the air.

I try to remind myself not to yearn so, that Spring will emerge in it’s own time and it will be so easy to take it for granted when it does. I remind myself that there is magic in this in-between and that it would be a shame to wish away the joy that comes from noticing it’s slow progress. Now, in this tentative beginning, each small step towards the warmer season is a miracle, something to be cherished amidst the washed out remnants of autumn and winter that still blanket the forest floor.

In many ways this yearning for the coming season mirrors an impatience I feel for my own life to shift seasons. The last season has felt like a long cold winter, one that lasted several years with no sign of the light returning. I may have written about what this time has felt like, sporadically, but I have never really shared any details. I call this space “The Authenticity Project” and yet, in the darkness of that winter it felt too scary to shine the light on it all and allow myself to be completely seen. In putting that barrier in place, I did not allow myself to embrace all of myself and I suspect that my writing has suffered because of it. I’m not here to shame myself, but I wonder if I found it so difficult to show up here and actually write, because of this filter I unwittingly placed between me and the words that wanted to flow through. In this changing of seasons, I want to try something out. I can find a balance between not sharing all the details, but instead sharing some, not just sharing flowery words about all that I’m feeling, but the stories that the feelings root from too.

I have spent the last 3 years in a job I hated, in a toxic workplace, desperately trying to get myself out. At the same time, I was dealing with some very difficult things in my family life and just became buried by it all, trying to keep my head above water. I may finally have gotten out of that job, and things are finally settling down at home, but I still feel as though part of me is still buried beneath it all, grasping desperately for the light. This is why I feel so much impatience for the changing of the seasons. I am ready to write a new chapter of my story, and yet there are still some lingering loose ends to tie up from the chapter I have just closed. In a way, that chapter is not closed, not yet. On this precipice, in this moment of pause in between, I remind myself that now is the time to prune away the habits and stories that will no longer serve me. They weigh me down, and I must make space for new buds to blossom, for my branches to reach new heights that all that weight would not allow before.

I have pondered how to do so, tried to figure out how to transition into this new chapter in a way that honours me and all that I need. One word kept coming back to me, whispering in my ear in those moments of quiet, shouting at me through things I read, videos I watched, everywhere I looked. Devotion. As the world slowly creeps towards Spring, I find myself creeping towards Devotion. I ask myself what it means, what it is I feel called to Devote myself to. Why this word? What does it want to teach me? I settled on this: for this month of April I would devote myself to grounding back into myself, in strengthening my roots and foundations through the rituals and practices that have always made me feel connected to myself. I have spent so long feeling lost, being stuck in that workplace feeling unappreciated, as though I had nothing unique to add, no innate value. For so long, I mustered the energy over and over again to apply for jobs, spent hours writing cover letters trying to convince someone I was worth choosing over everyone else. But the thing is in this current job climate, there’s a lot of rejections to go round. There is only so many one can take without starting to question why. What is it about me that resulted in them choosing someone else? Perhaps this is the best I can get. Pair that with a workplace that sees you as a number, an achiever of KPI’s and nothing more, and you start to lose sense of yourself. You lose a sense of your value, of that magic you hold within that no one else can emulate. This month I have chosen to Devote myself to starting to reconnect with that version of myself that believed I could achieve anything I put my mind to, that believed that there was a magic that only I could bring to the world. That version of myself will look different than it did before, and so this journey of devotion is also a journey of discovery, of asking questions and being curious and open to any answer that might rise to the surface. I haven’t been a perfect devotee, there have been days that felt too heavy, where I felt too weighed down by it all and that’s ok. I am trying my best to keep turning my face up to the sunlight when and where I can. I am trying my best to allow myself to blossom and bloom in my own time, just as the world around me follows no pace but it’s own. There is a time for abundance and a time for hibernation. There is a time for shedding and a time for bloom. It cannot be forced or rushed. It goes at its own pace.

This month is just the beginning of what I hope will be a long path of Devotion. I expect once the momentum takes hold, it will find its own pace, its own rhythm. Part of rebuilding this sense of self is also rebuilding the trust that I will do the things that make me feel better, even when things feel most heavy. Each day that I choose to journal, practice yoga, get outside and listen to the birds, cook myself a good meal; all of these things that return me to myself, is another day where I have chosen to show up for myself. Each of these days is a reminder that I am worth the effort, that I am allowed to do these things simply for the joy they bring me, that that feeling or joy does not have to be earned. Each day I choose to show up in this way is another day I refuse to abandon myself any longer. I do not have to do it perfectly, but I do have to do it. For me. No one else.

And so I ask you, dear friend, what would you choose to devote yourself to? What do you need in the blooming of this new season? What abundance do you hope to call in?