I started to believe in something I like to call my inner wise woman, kind of like the opposite of my inner child. I think about her as my future self, the person I will be when I’m around 80, when I’ve seen it all and walked through it all and gathered the wisdom
When I’m really feeling hopeless and down fighting shame and fear. I turn to her. I picture her as a soft eyed old woman, skin like parchment and a smike that feels like a warm kitchen. I know that she has nothing but compassion for me, becuase she’s already walked in these footsteps and come through the other side. She’s the soft warm embrace my inner child needs. She speaks words of encouragement. There is no judgment in her, she knows the pains and struggles I face from the inside. Becuase she’s my future self.
Believing in her creates a sort of assurance that I will get through the current storm in my life. I’ll emerge wiser. I’ll emerge whole. The wind won’t tear me apart. The darkness won’t consume my soul. She’s teaching me to laugh inside the storm.
