Veiled

As I sat down to write this post I used the thesaurus to look up the word invisible.  I started writing this post with some details about my life but I’m not really convinced the story matters. We’ve all got our own shit to deal with and by writing it out just causes comparison or

As I sat down to write this post I used the thesaurus to look up the word invisible. 

I started writing this post with some details about my life but I’m not really convinced the story matters. We’ve all got our own shit to deal with and by writing it out just causes comparison or maybe that’s just me. Whenever I read someone else’s story my mind immediately goes to either “Damn I didn’t have that bad” or “Damn I had it worse.” Why? Why must we compare ourselves? I’m so fucking over the comparison game. I’ve been hurt, you’ve probably been hurt and somewhere along the way we’ve also hurt other people. No one is perfect and we’ve all made mistakes.

I am currently struggling with letting go of the pain of my childhood. I’ve figured out the root of the problem and I know it has to go, but….I’ve held onto it as a security blanket for so long and I’m not sure how to exist in the world without it. Who am I if I am not the secretly tortured human being with a difficult past? Who am I if I don’t have a reason to blame my piss poor behavior on someone else?

I have come to realization I am scared to be whole. I am downright terrified of becoming everything I’ve ever wanted to be because it would mean I’d be completely responsible for the outcome of my life. Imagine that.

Accountability.

I have no issue with taking accountability at work when I screw up. Why is this so damn hard? My story isn’t me. It’s just a story about how I see my life. If I continue to live in the past, there is no room for an improved me in the future. Hell, I won’t have a future. I’m allowing this pain to swallow me whole and keep me veiled from happiness. Lately, I wake up every day hoping life will be better and by the time I come home, I find a way to remind myself I am unwanted by my parents, my children, my friends. Not all of them actually tell me this, it’s just how my brain chooses to believe it. I allow old stories to creep in and become unsurmountable mountains when I know damn well they aren’t. It’s just my process for now and I’m sharing it in case this is happening to anyone else. I know my husband loves me but he has no idea how to deal with me when this washes over me. I have both empathy and anger at him for this. Clearly I let the anger go because how is he supposed to know what to do? I can assure you, I did not come with a manual.

I am more than a woman with a sad story.

But… Who Am I?

Blessed Be,
Shelley

In progress-Dark Night of the Soul

How many times can one person peel back the metaphorical layers of an onion until you get to the sweet spot?

The answer to that is unknown because each soul has created their own layers by their unique experiences. I have spent most of my life pretending to be someone I am not, so I felt loved and accepted. To continue life in this way is holding me back and stopping me from experiencing the true beauty life has to offer.

I experience emotions deeply, more deeply than I would like for anyone to know. I have developed this armor around me with the ideology of being “strong” because this is what I learned by watching the adults around me as I grew up. Every time I have weathered through a storm someone has always said to me “You’re so strong.” I allowed this to become a badge of honor not realizing the full implication those two little words have had on me. The people who said it meant the words as encouragement and sometimes even in awe of the experiences I have had, yet I still smile. Behind this smile lies a tremendous amount of pain. Pain which I have laughed through, smiled through, judged people through and tried to find my way through the world with it. I have held onto it in the form of weight around my body. I use it as a shield and sword to protect me, so no one sees my true vulnerability. I believed that if I showed vulnerability, I was weak and no one wanted a weak daughter, sister, friend, wife, mother.

Why am I writing about this? I am writing about this because there are many women in the world who feel as I do than anyone even realizes. We have always been “too much” of something. For me, I have always been “too loud”, “too smart for your own good”, “too fat”, “too loud” take your fucking pick, someone has said it. I learned to allow their statements to become my truth. Am I too loud? Perhaps, but when I feel happy, I exude happiness. When I feel sad, it drips off me. When I feel anger, it shoots out of me and slimes people. I am working on controlling the last two as it can affect other people and for that I am deeply apologetic.

I am finally at a point where I realize I have been shielding myself from truly feeling the deep pain I have experienced as a way of self-preservation. I am dropping the shield and sword for small periods of time. I am finding myself crying off and on regularly throughout the day. I need to feel this. Each tear I shed is a memory I no longer need to use to protect myself. I see this as the end of Harry Potter 7 when Voldemort is fighting to stay alive. Each of his horcruxes must be destroyed and this is what I am doing. Each painful memory is a piece of my soul I want to integrate back into myself, so I am whole. In the end… when I have released them all my shield and sword will disintegrate as Voldemort did in the end.

All that will be left is the true me. The woman who deserves to live on this planet in love and happiness helping other women find themselves and integrate their own shadows so they can show up just as beautiful as I will when this is over.

Blessed Be the path of every being who chooses to walk this life on Earth. It is not easy, but there are lessons to learn and so many people to love.

In love and peace…
Shelley