the edges of myself

I have a confession to make. I haven’t been consciously withholding this information– but just recently uncovered it somewhere in the depths of my cells.

I have spent years being ANGRY. Horribly, Defiantly, ANGRY.

At myself.

What I have realized is this anger (that I have managed bury to the depths of my being) has been holding me hostage from moving forward and becoming the biggest, baddest ME I can possibly be.

FLASHBACK 25 YEARS:

My parents announced their divorce to me when I was fifteen. I was bewildered. My foundation began to crumble.

While intuitively I understood the cracks had been there for years, and intellectually I knew it was not my fault– the carefully crafted story of my family began to disintegrate. It was then that I began to assume an unreasonable amount of responsibility for things that were beyond my control. It was then that my anger at myself began to take root.

I had a great childhood– one that I easily romanticize. I was raised with immense love and support by two incredible human beings. I grew up feeling certain of myself and my abilities.  I don’t have any horror stories or blaring reasons for deeply rooted psychological trauma. But that division down the middle of my foundation at the age of fifteen struck me deeply. And with it an came an immense amount of shame and self-blame which I am just beginning to acknowledge.

My self-critical voice formed at the age of 15 out of necessity for the brave face that I donned. I have been living with that same critical voice (and brave face) ever since without realizing where they came from. My angry, fifteen year old critic has been tough on me for years and her voice has carried a lot of weight.

Yesterday, with the help of my healer, I was able to both listen and talk to my fifteen year old self. What she told me was that she wanted to make herself as small as possible, she didn’t want to bother anyone or for anyone to think something was her fault, and what she needed from me was support and a context for understanding herself.

I told her first that she was beautiful and that it was okay for her to give her love to the world and to herself. I let her know that the things that she perceived were real– and that she was bigger than she could possibly imagine. I also told her that making herself small was impossible–  so she should stop trying. And that she deserved to take up as much space as she possibly could. (and the world deserved it too).

I have never felt a more profound gratitude than the gratitude my fifteen year old felt for my forty year old yesterday. And that gratitude is like a circle that I get to continuously experience. I’ve also never felt a more profound empathy for another human being than the empathy my forty year old felt for my fifteen year old. I no longer fear the critical voice of my younger self. My anger is gone. It has been replaced with love.

I feel my timidity and the power behind my fear. I feel my desire to please the whole world coupled with the wisdom that I can’t possibly do that. The weight has been lifted from my shoulders and I have got MY OWN back like no one else has ever had it. (And that seems appropriate). I understand in the depths of my cells a vibration of gratitude the likes of which I have never experienced– and it is for MYSELF. I am beautiful, self-reliant and powerful beyond anything I could possibly imagine. And I’m finally beginning to understand at my foundation how to to love myself first.