While writing this blog is therapeutic, it’s also bringing up some issues because I AM writing.
Turns out I struggle with being seen.
If you’ve read any of Brene’ Brown’s work, you’ll understand the concept. If not, being seen is about being vulnerable…baring your soul…showing who you really are to others without the fear of being judged….or rejected. And this is hard for me to do because it ties into the fear of feeling that I’m unworthy.
As much as I want this blog to be my honest account of what I’m dealing with and experiencing on this journey, there’s a part of me that’s afraid of writing something people won’t want to read or of exposing too much of myself and being judged for it.
This part of me — this fearful little girl — stays hidden away from view. In fact, at one point during the session, I told Jim and Princess Grace that I could sense the little girl (me) was standing behind me…occasionally peaking out from behind the grown up me to take a quick look around the room.
Jim asked me to ask her if she wanted to come out and be seen. She replied with a fast and confident “no”. Showing herself to the world is not something she’s interested in doing. Ironically enough, though, she likes to stay in the basement…you know, the one that I don’t like to spend time in. That’s her safe place. Where she goes to play. And she’s happy there. Actually, she’s happy everywhere…all the time…always smiling. She’s not afraid because she doesn’t know what to fear. I’m protecting her.
At one point, I noticed that she was no longer a beautiful little girl but covered in scars. It’s because of these scars that I keep her hidden from the rest of the world…to protect her from being seen…teased…judged…ridiculed. It’s how I take care of her. I take care of her by leaving her…alone…in the basement. The basement….a physical manifestation of my subconscious. It’s almost too text book, even for me.
When Jim asked if I wanted to give her an angel to play with her so she wouldn’t be alone, I said yes. That’s what angels do — they protect the parts of us that are too vulnerable for us to care for on our own. They stand guard and never leave that part of us…until it’s time…until that vulnerable part has been integrated into the whole.
Last summer I went to an energy worker and ended up doing an unplanned soul retrieval. I brought a part of me — the little girl of about 5 or 6 — home. I met her at the house where I grew up. She was playing outside in the sunshine…so happy…and she wanted the grown up me to play with her. I did and then she asked to come home with me. So we got into my car…put the top down…and drove back to my home in Indianapolis. She was so happy with the wind blowing through her hair.
We got to my house and she ran all through it, looking at every room until she stopped in the guest room and I told her it was her room. We colored in the living room and played dolls. When it was time for me to go to work, she asked if she could come with…promising to be good and stay quiet. I brought her to the office where she sat quietly and colored more pictures. Since I don’t work anymore, she doesn’t leave the house anymore. I guess I must have left her to play in solitude in the basement.
I feel a little sad for not taking better care of her. For bringing her inside….away from the sunshine….hidden from view.
I’m not exactly sure how to integrate her. It’s something she’s not interested in doing yet. My gut says I’m going to have to start to bare my soul…slowly sharing the stories that caused the scars…the ones that I’m trying so desperately to keep hidden from view.