From http://locksparkfarm.wordpress.com/author/wolton/
Healer teases me about the big V a lot – and no, we aren’t talking about my virginity. Ahem. The big V for me is vulnerability. A topic of much discussion in my wacky little sphere lately – so much so, damn it, I need to blog it out.
What is it about this form of surrender that sends so many of us into the dark spaces of resistance? Mine is a complex answer – and a very personal one. Somewhere, some how I taught myself that who I was down deep in my core didn’t equate to anything acceptable. I learned to be who the person across from me wanted to see (or my perception thereof), and therefore avoided vulnerability at all costs. Even to myself.
Yes, myself. Can you look in your heart and truly say you’re vulnerable and real in you conscious space too? If you can, show me the way. I mean, I’m getting there. It starts with integrity. Total admission into all you are, all you think, and most importantly, all you feel. None of that believing your own lies stuff. That feeling part is where I get tripped up. I freaking love the headspace. I love thinking about grand concepts, daydreaming, painting fantastical scenarios in my mind’s eye – all that head stuff. Feeling. . .used to not be my forte. We’re making friends, me and emotions. For awhile there, I wouldn’t acknowledge ANY of them unless I had a physical reaction of sorts. Anything that shows up on the physical has been percolating in the underbelly for eons, so that’s not exactly the kind of stupor I’m looking to exist in.
Now, I ask myself frequently (and have a few special peeps in my life that ask the same) – what are you feeling, girl? And to answer, I have to be vulnerable. I have to admit when it isn’t rainbow-colored. I don’t like being anything but joyful. Not because I’m allergic to messier emotions, but because I have an attachment (correction: my EGO has an attachment) to being that girl – the positive / happy / Susie Mary Sunshine beast.
Why?
That’s how Daddy liked it. My father used to always praise that part of me – the innocent, wide-eyed, the-world-is-a-beautiful-place little girl. He didn’t really want to be around me when I hit any other space. So that’s where, in part, I learned to put on a mask. Showing raw emotions in my household didn’t pay off. My siblings would pounce on any perceived “weakness”, and fights would ensue. Daddy would lament the loss of his “happy girl.”
I just happened to take this trait and run like mad. I suppose it’s a fierce fear of judgment and lack of acceptance that kept me from revealing anything other than my saccharine smile. Not, of course, what anyone else would think – no, it was more about what I thought. I deemed all that stuff unacceptable. Somehow, I was to be above anger and rage and jealousy and hatred and sadness and fear. And since I am not an enlightened master at the highest level, I failed.
How this has showed up in my life is really interesting. I could have won an Oscar a million times over for my various portrayals. I played lots of roles – sex kitten, fat girl, suicidal goth, corporate climber, rave queen, etc. There were many genuine elements in those personas, but through it all, I couldn’t ever call myself real. I’m not sure I can even claim as much now. But at least I’m on the right track.
I have heard from so, so many friends – Why don’t you ever call me when you’re feeling blue? I LOVE being the one my beloveds dial up when the shit hits the fan, but man did I avoid reciprocating the favor. There’s something so primal about being in breakdown before another being. Something so terrifying for me. Again, not because I feared rejection, but because I hated this part of me. Hated it.
I’m working on that ferociously these days. I am doing my best to be love, and laying a lot of stuff way, way out there without an agenda. I’m so thrilled to be uncovering the truest parts of me, and even more relieved that I LOVE them. Even the breakdowns. Even those so-called toxic parts. They rock too. I mean, why not?
The last time I had a potential for a serious downfall – last weekend, actually – I dragged myself in front of a mirror and did a deep dive into my own eyes. What I saw there looked. . .beautiful. Surrendered. Willing to look bad, to let loose, to scream or cry or pound some fists. Whatever was needed. I told her I loved her, even when she didn’t want to receive that love. Odd, I know, but it worked. I felt accepted within myself to be whomever and whatever. I couldn’t think of a single scenario that I couldn’t accept in myself.
Now, the trick is to extend that outward, without losing focus on the inner healing. I absolutely cannot wait to dance again with Ayahuasca, which is coming up in less than 2 months. She, above all else, has helped lift me into this beautiful authentic space, but I’m not naive enough to think I’m through. I’ve also been practicing this with the people in my life. With Z, BVG, various office mates, Best Friend, RyRy, Healer, Guru, Orion – the list is getting longer. I like this. I like this very much. My ego, well, she’s not all that pleased. There’s no lack of protests. Because I’m starting to realize this is going to push me into realms I can’t begin to imagine. I might have to wear a bikini at a beach someday. I might have to stand in front of a crowd and admit the demons. I might have to lose every last one of my masks. Ye God. Makes for good bloggin’ though, so what the heck.
I’ll do it.
“Put on a pair of these rosies
Raise those blinds
A happy mask was never your best disguise”
- Ms. Tori A
