I have a life I am grateful for.
Right now where I sit, I've been blessed enough to have been able to stay home with each of my three kids for as long as I've desired to. I have a partner who is infinitely supportive of my hopes and dreams, he's really fun to be around, and we don't have to work too hard to be on the same page. He also has seen me at some pretty hideous moments in my existence and loved me right through them, and that is saying a lot!
I am also at a point in my life where I finally feel like I am hitting a groove with my Soul's calling and path. I have a truly beautiful circle of friends, and I have found quite the village with which to surround myself.
I will not lie, my life was not something I was comfortable with in my teen years. There was the typical teenage aspect of feeling very uncomfortable in my own skin. I had very little grasp of who I was. I really just wanted to be loved, at almost any cost. I struggled to find or use my own voice, and when that voice did find its way to the surface, I was quick to silence it in favour of being popular or fitting in. The more I re-read what I just wrote, the more it occurs to me what a hallmark of adolescence all of that is for so many people.
My teenage years were in many ways so painful, that even today at thirty years old, I find myself with knots in my stomach at the thought of running into anyone who knew me then. (Well, almost anyone. I have managed to reconnect in some new ways with a few folks).
So today I ask myself 'what's that about'?
I am confident that if I experience these feelings, there must be others out there who do as well! Most especially if I felt compelled or pushed to write a blog post on it.
Why does my thirty-year-old-self almost immediately revert to my seventeen-year-old-self inside when I see someone from my past? Why do I agonize over what they might be thinking of me, or how I might be judged-- just as I did back when I was a kid?
I'm going to get to the heart of it right quick here: it is my own self-loathing. Plain and simple.
This self-loathing is responsible for heavy feelings of guilt and anxiety. It is the dam that stops up my flow of authenticity.
I might be quite good at convincing myself in the day-to-day that I am a unique and brilliant being of light. But the truth is, when I see most folks from my past, I am triggered immediately into a painful pattern of "I'm not good enough." And I don't think I am the only one.
Somewhere in my past, an event occurred- something happened- and what I took away from it was that I must not be enough exactly as I am. I must hustle, pretend, hide, or play a game to be liked. To be loved, really.
To be clear: a choice was made. I decided I must not be enough.
And just as the choice was made then, there are choices to be made now, as an adult. I can choose to keep believing that I am not enough. That I still need to hustle or pretend or hide. Or, I can choose another way.
And when that happens, something pretty magical occurs. We attract that very love into our life in other ways. We stop concerning ourselves with what others think because we know we can't control that anyhow. (Besides, anything negative someone has to say is usually more of a reflection of how they feel about themselves and has little to actually do with us).
In the process of this choosing to love myself, and turning the attention inward, I've also made another beautiful discovery. Not only have I granted myself be-ing, but those I feared judgement from have also granted me be-ing. None of us are the same people we once were. Our cells are dying and new ones taking their place every single day! And somehow, on some unspoken level, we all know that and so there is this gorgeous acceptance that we've all grown and changed over the years. None of us have to be those same seventeen year old selves if we don't want to be- and why should we be? This time here on this planet is for evolution and expansion.
I wish for you much self-acceptance, self-forgiveness, and peace in knowing you have the power to choose who you are today.