waiting to exhale
Waiting to exhale isn’t just a movie title. It’s a lifestyle that one too many women suffer from daily, conscious and unconsciously. The idea of putting everyone and everything before she’s free to a breath for her own survival and sanity is dangerous and debilitating. We make heroic attempts to save our surroundings before intentionally deciding to save ourselves. They can be as small as biting our tongue in a professional meeting as a means to spare someone else’s ego, or as big as putting our mental health on the back burner as we remain in systems or environments that have long forgotten about us and are slowly wounding us.
To exhale is often thought of and commonly used in the context of releasing air from our bodies. It is also defined but less commonly used to describe an emergence. When I think of emerging I think of a woman giving birth. As a baby emerges the confines of its mother’s womb, it’s a painful yet beautiful process. Instead of being in my 30’s and going through a mid-life crisis, I think I’m going through an exhale — the transitional period of learning to stop holding my breath as I experience and endure the growing pains that will allow me to emerge anew.
Though it’s not as painful as the birthing process per se, it still hurts like hell to mourn what was as I wipe away tears and try to focus my mind and eyes on what can and will be. Some days the anxiety resting in my chest cavity cause discomfort when I exhale. I have to remind myself to breathe anyway. While it may feel like I’m dying, it’s only parts of me that I’m laying to rest as a better me is awakened.
I wondered if butterflies find it to be painful as they’re unwrapped from their cocoon. According a quick web search, butterflies don’t feel a thing during the process. I wish I didn’t have to feel either after being wound so tightly, ‘having it all together’, and coming out of my cocoon in front of others. It hurts. Physically, not so much. Egotistically, like hell! Mostly because I’d much rather people see me as a beautiful butterfly instead of a tattered human-being.
Becoming, growing, realigning, whatever it is is that you choose to label the journey of finding yourself, you’ll know you’re doing it correctly when it starts to lacks glamour. The process ain’t pretty and the most notable lessons will likely have you ugly crying. But that’s okay because those tears are silent prayers that will communicate to God that you’re in need of His assurance, love, and guidance.
The process will try to trick you out of your purpose. Don’t fall for it. Instead, decide that every time it feels too hard to breathe, take a deeper breath. Go deeper within yourself and answer, “why not me.” Find out what you’re made of, not how quickly you can quit. Betting on yourself isn’t as risky as it seems. You’re also betting on the God version of you and that’s a champion just waiting to prove herself to you.
Note to self: exhale as many times as you need to. Each breath is the beginning of something beautiful.
