The
past year has been a “stretching " experience of the
greatest kind for me. I have been on a journey for the past 3 years to relearn
myself after the transformative experiences of becoming a wife and mother. I
didn’t realize it at the time, but I had a very clear picture in my mind of
what being a wife and mother meant and what it was supposed to look like. And
that image that I held was the exact opposite in many ways of who I was as a
person. I could never figure out why I was so miserable being that I had exactly
what I said I wanted; and from the outside looking in, everything was
"perfect". When
I turned 30, I decided that I was going to "take back my thirties", which
to me meant that I was going to rediscover me and what made me happy. Oddly
enough, that meant the eventual demise of my marriage, moving out of my house,
and becoming a single parent. My journey led me to this new place of self
discovery and daily amazement. I could spend hours explaining all of the
nuisances of my journey and my discoveries about myself and life in general,
but that would be too long and frankly not that important at the moment. What
is important, at least to me, is my discovery of vulnerability. Like most
people, I am terrified of being vulnerable because vulnerability leaves plenty of
room for you to be hurt. I have built a wall around myself (invisible but very
real) that keeps my feelings in and the hurt
out. Why? Because I am REALLY tired of disappoinmetment and let down.
As
a counselor, I have perfected the art of being a hypocrite; I will profess boldly
the need for others to let go of fear and embrace an acceptance of who they
are, yet I seem to struggle with that in my own life. My feelings scare me. The
idea of strong emotion makes me want to run and hide. Literally. All because of
the fear of hurt and rejection; or worse, reciprocation.
Case in point: due to all the changes that
have happened in my life over the past year, I have been blessed with the
amazing opportunity to witness the love of others for me and my children; namely
my mother, my aunt and my cousin. Because of the absolutely amazing roles they have
played and the blessings they have been, I decided to write them all a letter
for Christmas. For me, writing has always been cathartic. I am a person who
feels things deeply, but often struggle with finding the right mix of spoken
words to convey those feelings. Writing has been my way of bearing my soul.
The
purpose of the letters was to tell them all the things that were in my heart
and just how deeply they had affected me with their love and kindness. Sounds
simple enough, but it was remarkably difficult. I procrastinated until the absolute
last moment that I could. When I finally sat down to write, I was filled with
fear and anxiety.
Why? Because not only was
I bearing my true feelings- becoming completely open, exposed, naked to them, I
was also placing myself in the position to receive pure love, emotion, and
gratitude back. And I didn’t feel worthy of it. I didn’t feel like I deserved
direct and open love, appreciation, and connection.
Why? I honestly don’t
really know.
I
have spent the past several weeks reading various books on letting go of the
past, accepting your imperfections, and loving yourself wholly. While reflecting
on my feelings of worthiness (or better yet, unworthiness) I’ve come to the conclusion that being naked
is the only way to experience the fullness of life. That means allowing others
to see me and love me exactly as I am, flaws and all; without taking it personally
if they don’t agree with what they see. The fear of judgment and rejection are paralyzing;
as is the fear of making a mistake. Perfectionism
is impossible, and striving for it is miserable.
I've
come to realize and accept that my attempts at fitting into whatever ideal
image I had in my mind was completely futile; though not without purpose. I see
that time in my life as a huge lesson in
the importance of authenticity and self acceptance. I'm also very thankful to
have come to this place while I'm still "young", so that I can be
about the business of embracing myself and enjoying the person that I am.
Each
morning, I have my children recite an affirmation on their way to school which says , "I
am a unique, unrepeatable, miracle. I was created by God to do great things. I
am smart. I am kind. I am beautiful, both inside and out. I am a loving person.
I am a loved person. Today is a great day." I wrote this for them at a time when my son
was being very negative about himself and I wanted them both to realize just
how amazing they are, just the way they are, as early in their lives as
possible. I have decided to pay attention to those words each day, and to
recite them to myself. And while doing so, to add to it that "my presence
is enough and I am completely worthy of the love that I receive."
Brene
Brown's book "The Gifts of
Imperfection" speaks about how you must allow yourself to be open to
experiencing all of life's emotions. Attempting to numb oneself against pain or
disappointment inevitably blocks positive emotions such as joy or love. You
can't pick and choose the emotions to block and the ones to let it. Reading
this was like shining a bright spotlight on my face: I steel myself against truly
experiencing my emotions because of the fear of being hurt. I've come to
realize for me, it is that fear of showing myself fully and being vulnerable
and imperfect that scares me the most. I've prepared myself for negative
responses to the real me with lots of affirming self talk like, "It doesn't
matter what anyone else thinks, I love and accept me" or "if they
don't like it, I don't need them", all of which sounds great, but usually
becomes a bit more difficult to play out in reality. I now know that what I
haven't prepared myself for is total acceptance. What on earth does that feel like??
Truthfully,
I don't know. I have never been completely REAL with anyone. I will say that
the closest I probably ever came was in my marriage- and that completely
backfired on me. Now that quite some time has passed, I can accept that it
wasn't my authenticity that was the problem in that situation; it was what the
truth triggered in my husband that became the issue. The problem was his, but
he made it mine, and in turn, I internalized that to mean that I could not be
authentic and completely honest because it was somehow bad. Being naked--even
with my spouse--arguably the one person I should be able to bare all with--convinced
me that behind those walls that I had created was exactly where I belonged.
