There are so many people in your same situation. Speak your truth. Say it anyway. Don’t ever feel silly or too angry or like you’re gloating or complaining. Continue reading “A Thousand Times”
As I sit and reflect on my childhood, I can’t help but wonder how many other children -right this minute- are being raised the same way. Continue reading “2:38 a.m.”
When you start to speak the truth
When you find your voice
People will want to silence you, shut your shit down. Continue reading “Power Up”
Yesterday was an emotional day for me. The purging hurt so good. The death of an antiquated pattern, shedding my dumb-suit. My beauty radiating blissfully from under the decaying camouflage. Reflecting on how different I am today. It hit me hard. Like my heart was cracking open to love – love for myself. Continue reading “Retiring My Emotional Armor”
Don’t wait for someone to tell you you are amazing. Take magnificent out for a drive. Show lovely a flower in the yard. Have divine choose your clothes today. You are all of it. Show yourself that you are. Intend to be. Put yourself first. Sensual Sunday.
Serenade your fresh, healthy cells with beneficial, living foods. Ask it what else it needs. Be still, your heart, and listen. Like nobody’s watching. Cause, who cares? This is an inward excursion, solitary. Benefits, immediate.
Be the chaperone on your sensual field trip. Sense where fabric touches the body. Eyes closed, feel objects as-if the first time. The smooth. The rough. Wet. Slippery. Savor foods orally, longer and slower, the moment of transition to a swallow.
Play, ponder, reflect, meander, wonder, dance, baithe, be, touch, taste, feel, savor, sense, notice, saunter, and gaze practically guaranteeing your aliveness. Your – I Am Here-. Make this wise soul investment. Treat your nervous system to the gentle, the timeless. Don’t wait.
How do we know when we’ve arrived? When we’ve matured? Growned up? 😂 It’s been a long time coming – like 50 years long. I found myself involved in a group conversation yesterday and 4 women were sharing their identity theft experiences. I knew I had the mother of all tales. These women love to talk, spewing their words into the air like throwing confetti hoping to hit a target. Some peices landing where intended. Others scattering about, disappearing into the room like snowflakes on warm pavement. Talking, sharing, for the sake of talking, sharing.
I, feeling the internal bulldozer push to share, to say something to top their stories- completely self servingly and ego based – said nothing. WHATT? Me? Story-teller ME? Holding back? Didn’t give into the forces of EGO and cram my experience into these listening beings? Well no, no I didnt. But, but I’m so fucking good at it. I am quite the entertainer and very charming 😑…Instead, I made the conscious choice to sit and listen to what was shared. It was clear that I might possibly have been the ONLY one listening that’s for sure. I observed all four of them perched on their haunches, waiting for a pause through which to interject their story. Not comment or question or otherwise entertain another’s offering- just forge ahead with how important THEY were. Blindly, single trackedly, gushing many details. Sprinkling in some theatrics.
What is it about being heard? We’re all so desperate to have a connection. May it be bourne from “I feel invisible” “I don’t matter” “I don’t have a right to be here” “I’m not ok”? Whatever your specific brand of bull-shit self doubt, self loathing – with enough self work, inner healing, counciling, body work, etc.. working through the shadow/darkness (patterns we use to adapt to a less than perfect upbringing) we CAN turn things around. We can be there for OURSELVES and not expect others to fill in our missing pieces. And not expect other to fill in what’s missing in our lives. Not expect others to SAVE US.
I sat, and retreated inward. Deeply. Even though outward appearances appeared as though I was listening intently (survival 101 as a child-I got an A+ 😡). To a place I found a wise woman. A higher self within me who was able to, in the moment, be IN this conversation but as an observer at the same time. Letting go of the pressure to perform. Pressure to make people like me. Pressure to entertain. One-up. Dazzle. My ego was prob pissed, starved, lonely, deflated…as I sat, a really good listener. I was quiet, seemingly uninvolved, aloof, passive…. all of the things I was forced to be as a child. God forbid I show some light, enthusiasm and BRAINS!!!! Someone would have felt challenged. And that would have been very bad for me as a kid.
So as I sat, some old patterns arose. Of course! The push to gush my story of identity theft all over everyone. But instead, I sat, and let WORTHLESS, FEAR, PRESSURE, ANXIETY wash over me. Feeling accomplished. Able to DISCERN. Keep my mouth shut and make a conscious decision to talk or not.
I think the most ironic nugget is that didn’t we, as trauma/abuse survivors, experience identity theft as children? Very early in life someone(s) ran off with who we came here to be. Outright stole our identity and we had to pick another one. Put a different face on. And here we are scratching through the forest floor, looking for remnants of who we are. Retrieving parts lost, uncovering the light with the dark. Finding really cool things about ourselves. Aligning with others who really SEE us, the real us. Life-Lock identity protection-like.
Everyday there are lessons to be learned. Interesting ways the Universe configures to allow us the opportunity to heal (or not). I always live by these simple words… Life is happening FOR us, not TO us. I believe Tony Robbins is quoted saying that 💜Ahhhh. Discernment. Welcome my newest friend.
We’ll do anything for a good Mom. When there was so much wrong in our childhoods, we need, now, to reparent ourselves and get what we’ve missed.
Bringing loving kindness to ourselves. Validation. Safety. Feeling comfortable really , deeply being seen. Celebrating our Aliveness. Feeling worthy.
Gift yourself these. Get whatcha need. Fill those holes. Anyways.
Picture credit to 9Gag.com
Per-fect-shun-is-ummmm. Hmmm, shunning the perfect, the pressure, warped sense of acceptable. No more reliving what we’ve been taught. Release the grip on the torch we’ve carried to keep ourselves in check and appear flawless. Allow the cracks to happen…how else will the light get in?
“I need to talk to her, I love her and miss her, please give this message to her”. This is what my Maternal Influence – as I call her – texts my husband. Continue reading “Write her a letter, he said.”
Here we are, Christmas quickly approaching. So of course I have no plans to spend time with my family on Christmas Eve. Flirting with attending vs. not attending family gatherings for 15 years, Continue reading “The Unlikely Christmas Card”