Traveling within myself

It has been close to two years since I last wrote a blog. I never imagined it would be this long but, the truth is, I needed space from this little project that I started to figure myself out. So, I stopped. I stopped writing this blog and stopped writing my book. Something was not right. I became very confused and scared and I began to question why I even did this in the first place. I knew when I began that in order for me to show up I had to be one hundred real and vulnerable. I could not half ass this. I would not have it any other way. That meant I had to reveal some brutally honest shit and that SCARED me because I like to (for the most part) be a private person about my feelings and thoughts (unless I completely trust you). So, how did I end up here chronicling my thoughts on the internet AND writing a memoir if I was so chicken shit about revealing myself? More importantly, WHY did I want to do this? WHY did I think I could make a difference? It has only been a few years since I began to open up and share my teenage stories. I LOVED the reactions I received. More importantly, I noticed how ALIVE I felt. One story shared turned into another and another. I LOVED witnessing the reactions. I LOVED revealing long ago deep secrets about myself and the shenanigans I got into. I was selective with the friends and family I shared with, still very afraid I would be judged by others. The fear of being judged has always, always been in the back of my mind and one day this very thought paralyzed me. I decided my stories, my aches and pains were only important to me and I shut down. I shut down so hard, the signs I got from the universe did not matter. The compliments I received from friends about something I had written or shared, did not matter. I gathered all my feelings and thoughts and shrank away from it all and poof I vanished.

Let me describe myself a little bit in case you do not know me. I prefer deep, profound communication. I thrive off this. It is the only type of discussion I prefer to engage in. I cannot stand frivolous talk. I am also wicked curious. I like to know WHY. I like to figure shit out. I like to get to the root of things. I like to help and share when I learn something new. I also noticed in the past few years I had morphed into someone I no loner recognized. I became the MASTER of hesitation. I became a prisoner to my thoughts and lost courage. While I disappeared there was not one single day that passed were I did not think of this blog and the book. Still my thoughts and the signs from the universe would not leave me alone. The programs I like to listen to had a segment that resonated with my story. The radio played a song that resonated with my story. The movie I watched resonated with my story. It was EVERYWHERE, EVERY SINGLE DAY and I took notice. Yet, my doubt, hesitation, and uncertainty were far greater and to be honest, more comforting. I began telling myself stories and gave them permission to run amuck in my head. I began to tell myself that no one cared about what I had to say. I flooded myself with doubt and even more confusion. What if I hurt someone’s feelings? I asked myself. Then I felt shame and guilt. I created a shit storm. All this was going on while I took care of everyone else around me.

Then one day I had ENOUGH. I was about to explode. I could feel it in my chest and more importantly in my throat. I grew so tired of being a victim of my own thoughts. I was exhausted of this shit. I had spun myself into a tight ass, narrow way of viewing myself and stopped believing in ME. What happened? How did I get here? Why did I prefer to be complicit with such negative self-talk? It went against every fiber of my soul. I had spent so much time and energy doing self-work years ago in my mid-twenties. I did therapy, devoured self-help books, listened to particular people whom I looked up to and enrolled in Women Studies classes. And yet here I was feeling as though I just had my ASS BEAT DOWN so hard like never, ever before and it was ME that beat my own ass down. Why was I self-sabotaging my thoughts and ideas when I know I have a story I want to share? I know it is one hell of a story. I know it. I feel it and it was one hell of a good time too! Why did I choose to suppress myself and not want to share my struggles, heartaches, ideas, and stories when all I love to listen to and talk about is real life ebbs and flows? Why did I box myself into FEAR? WHY did I loose my voice?

The moment I unlocked the chains I began to understand. New, fresh messages poured in and I began to pay attention. Shortly after, I was asked to talk about myself and within the first five minutes I began with where I was from then I described my husband as I always do, he is the gentlest, patient, kind, honest, giving, respectful person I know and I had NO idea how I ended up with such a great human being and I am so lucky (this is how I always, always describe my husband to people that don’t have the pleasure of knowing him). This experience was different than before. I listened to myself as I said this statement. I become of aware of something I had never noticed before. In describing my husband I subconsciously put myself down. This hit me hard. I am a pretty great human being as well and my husband is just as lucky to have me as his wife. Why had I never noticed this before?

The messages rolled in like clockwork. I had stood idle long enough. The very next day I tuned into a podcast interview and learned I have been running my life from the sub-conscious state. In a nut shell, from the ages of zero to seven we are all hypnotized. Meaning everything we see, hear, and experience is down loaded into our subconscious. Learning this made all the sense in the world to me because SO much happened to me during this time. My parents divorced when I was four and I never saw my Father again (until seventeen years later) and my Mother met and remarried my Stepdad. The beginning was wonderful. Three months into the marriage and our happy little family dramatically changed. My Stepdad turned his back on me and stopped talking to me. He was the second male figure to abandon me, all this by the age of seven.

I lived my day to day just trying to survive without any tools since I was seven. During my mid-twenties I wanted to stop feeling angry, sad, and depressed. Therapy helped with connecting the dots and to see things from a different perspective. In turn this helped me tremendously with making peace. What I am learning now in my mid-forties is that I must re-wire my consciousness. I now comprehend why I allowed myself to think the things I did. I assumed I did not matter. I assumed I did not have a voice. I assumed no one cared. All this self-talk was coming from my sub-conscious. I had been living my life from the messages I internalized as a child. I now accept that self-love must happen. I now accept that I do matter, I do have a voice, and I am cared for. Every night before I drift off to sleep I travel within myself and repeat these phrases and more in order to re-wire my sub-conscious and unleash miracles.

This is all very recent and I am genuinely excited and grateful about it. I am eager to learn more about me and about this new found awareness. To the person who is reading this, I hope I was able to give you a moment of clarity. That you feel as though you are on FIRE just as I feel and know that YOU matter.

P.S. Look up Bruce Lipton.