I whispered quietly to myself, I trust. And then I remembered it’s true. I trust.
2020 Word of the Year: Trust
Eleven months ago I wrote a post about my 2020 word of the year: trust. I wrote about how trusting the way my life unfolds is hard and how I want to learn to trust. In those posts, shared that I wanted to lean into three areas of trust: trust the process, trust this good, full life and trust my worth. I knew this word would challenge me, but, like many of us, I had no idea the extent of challenges that 2020 would hold.
Then, six months later, I wrote a post about how trust was shaping up for me halfway through the year. So much had happened in those six months — I went from writing a book proposal to setting it all down. I noted all that the pandemic was teaching me about trust, like ultimate lack of control and forced rest. Even though I was unsure about how to make decisions about visiting family and friends, I was able to say that I was content and trusting the unfolding of it all.
So, I know what I though about trust when the year started and I know what I thought about trust halfway through the year… what about now, in December?
I trust myself
When I’m tired, I rest. When I’m anxious, I move. When I’m hungry, I eat. When I’m sad, I cry. When I’m lonely, I reach out.
I have really leaned into listening to my body and trusting what it has to say to me. I pay attention to my emotions and use that energy to take action. Instead of letting feelings take over, I receive the data and notice what I need.
I trust that a deep breath will calm me down and that a good run will flush out my system. Oh yeah, and when my body said, Let’s start running again, I did!
Daily yoga, daily walks. Unless my body says no and then I rest. All the quiet around me gives me better ability to listen carefully to what I need.
I trust my writing
When I set down my book, I felt some shame. Like, of course, I couldn’t write a book. Until I listened closer and realized I’m not meant to write that book. I was meant to write as much as I did. All that work was needed and necessary. I had to write it and process it to heal. But, if that was the book I was meant to write, I’d still be writing it.
I trusted my writing enough to know when I needed a break, and when it was time to start again. Part of me that was afraid if I stopped I wouldn’t know how to start again. But that’s not the case — just like riding a bike or training for a race, I know how to get back into the rhythms of writing.
Taking a break gave my heart, mind, body and spirit time to absorb all that was going on around me. Taking a break required some serious trust and starting again reinforced it.
I trust my home
I don’t think I’ve ever spent so much time at home. During the work week I was gone 9-10 hours and sometimes more because we’d go out to eat once we got home. On the weekends we’d go out to eat or visit with friends. I’m usually gone a few weeks a year for vacation or trips to see family. In the last nine months I’ve been home every single day (minus two long weekends). In the summer I went for drives in my convertible with no destination in mind, just to do something different.
Because I’ve been home so much, when I do venture out, I find myself wanting to return quickly. I feel safe here. Not only is this place my home, it is a place where I feel at home. I can be myself fully and completely without judgement. The four of us have figured out how to just be here. And I love it.
In this home I’ve felt protected and stood up for. I am loved and needed. In this home I’ve felt all my feelings knowing I won’t be rejected. We’ve been through a lot this year and I’m so grateful that this home has held me through it all. I trust this space fully and completely.
My intentions
I’m a member of The Light House*, a community of women bearing light in the world from a posture of inner knowing and intention. Each week I meet with my examen group and we talk about the intentions we are tending. For some it’s about their posture toward a person, situation or work. For others it can be specific tasks, like writing, art or online engagement. Early on in this group, my intentions were often related to my writing — goals for my book or my audience. Sometime mid-year my intention became tending myself, my writing and my home. This intention has remained with me through the remainder of the year, and I hope for the rest of my life.
In doing so, I began to trust myself, my writing and my home in ways I never expected.
Daily I quietly whisper to myself, I trust. And in that whisper I remember it’s true.
peace.
*If you want to learn more about this community of women, I encourage you to check out the website and take the Light Assessment. The doors will open to new members soon!
Anne Brock 