Highly Sensitive

Jasmine, Jacuzzi and A Pink Silk Robe

I am equal parts the deft softness of peony bundles and streamlined, unrelieved black, black, black.

These two aspects aren’t necessarily as opposite as they might seem at first. The airy gloriousness of peony blooms are elegance personified. They are feminine, delicate, almost otherworldly in their fragile mystery. Black is a color of sophistication, elegance, moodiness and mystery.  (And protection, for empaths.)

I came across an old journal entry today from a time when I felt deeply traumatized and deeply unwell (unawakened, in retrospect), and the following excerpt stopped me cold:  I ‘ve fallen into an incredibly toxic cycle and I have no one to blame but myself. I’m honestly so sick of blaming myself. I need energy work. I need some elegance. I need connection.

Reading this reminded me that elegance has always helped me feel . . . better.

Perhaps it is the quiet attention to detail behind the elegant thing, whatever it is. The custom reclaimed furniture. The woven texture so delicious to feel. The meticulous brushstrokes that build an Impressionist painting. Maybe as an empath I feel the mindfulness behind it. Or the love, or the hope. I could even be feeling the despair, but honesty is a lot like elegance in my world. Both bring me a sense of peace. Standing inside Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris for the first time does (and probably always will) represent the best my entire being (every aspect, every secret nook) has ever felt in my life. It is so hushed, so lovingly, achingly attended and revered, inch by crumbling inch. The overwhelming holiness of everything about it (for me) had absolutely nothing to do with religion. It makes me wonder . . .

What if we tried to enact this same sense of sacredness toward our own bodies?

Especially as empaths and deeply absorptive women, what if everything we mindfully fed ourselves was some form of

You are so sacred. Wow. 

With everything from high vibrational food to how we choose to move through space to the thoughts we fill ourselves with during the minutes that make up the hours that fill up our days.

It should be said that my body is not, in any sense, a pain-free space. (Yet.) Like so many of us, I have quietly intense daily struggles that I don’t usually broadcast. But have you heard about the Law of Attraction? It’s intrinsic; it’s like the Law of Gravity. It’s not a question or a theory, it’s a practical reality that what we focus on grows. (I promise I get how problematic this can seem on its face for chronic illness sufferers. It’s really not about shaming anyone or implying that you called feeling crappy on yourself. I sure didn’t. I know you didn’t either.)

What I did do, for a long time though, is take out all my suppressed rage on my body. I harmed it, I said that I hated it and really meant it, I blamed it for how badly I kept feeling, I punished it for being so hard to understand because I did not know what else to do.

The more I hated my body, the more reasons I was given to do so.

Eventually we arrive at the bottom of our bottom.

When I did, I decided to flip the switch. I started trying to think of my body the way I thought about being inside Notre Dame. If I revered this body of mine, how could I show it?

Here are three ways I found to do just that today. They’re so small, and they honestly made such a huge difference:

First:  I took myself down to and lingered in a hottub in the dappling sunshine for 15 minutes. (I have a view of one from my home and it always looks so inviting yet I never go. So it was the act of showing up for something that felt special. If you don’t have a hot tub, it could be a bath or a walk to feel the sunshine on your skin. Sun and water. They help us feel alive again. But if you can double up, I highly recommend it . . !)

Then:  I indulged myself afterward in the thin elegance of a jasmine green tea with raw honey, made all the more perfect for the delicate threat of caffeine beneath its delectable bouquet. Mmmm.

Finally:  I slipped into a paisley pink silk robe that I purchased for myself years ago. You know those purchases that you make for the woman you long to become . . ? Yeah. This was one of mine. And what is amazing is that I actually did become her by virtue of simply sliding it on. At three thirty this afternoon. It felt so good that I’m still wearing it as I write this, actually.  Feeling all worthy and glamorous and refined.

To me, this is a vital type of embodiment after a traumatic time.  These small moments of declaring myself worthy of care are a big deal. Feeling pretty, feeling something lovely on, in, beneath my skin is deeply healing. I am inviting experiences that will heal and nourish me by healing and nourishing myself. Amazing. True.

Could you try this magical trifecta for yourself today?  Really luxuriate in the heavenly fragrance of the tea. Put on something that the woman you dream of becoming would wear, notice how yummy it feels and please please let me know about your experience in the comments! I would love to hear.  

 

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