Birth, Death, Rebirth

The crumble is hard.  Taking the masks off.  Facing yourself, who you are, who you became, what you do, what you did, what others did, what you didn’t do, what you should do, could do…

It’s vicious.  It’s hard.  It can be downright brutal if you’ve worn blinders your whole life. I was prickly.  I took everything personally and used the things that happened as brick to build walls in my life.

I wore a suit of armour, complete with spikes. I wore masks, trading each one depending on who and where I was.  I was judgemental, overwhelming, overpowering.  I had too much to say and nothing important to say.

I let people walk on me and I swallowed the razor blades until there were so many I choked on them.  And the blades cut everything, forcing me to see all that I didn’t want to see.

Lifting the blinders, peeling back the layers helped me understand why I was the way I was.  The truth heals. What we hide hurts us and while the truth will set you free it will also piss you the fuck off.

It’s death, really.  The giving up of who you became to protect who you were really.  My sharp edged, jagged corners, broken bits cut people.  I didn’t mean them to.  I suppose I did what others did to me.  I think I saw it differently or not as bad because it’s filtered through my own bias.

But maybe it was as bad.  Maybe it wasn’t.  I walked.  I ghosted.  I pushed people away.  I just couldn’t. I didn’t know how to stand up for myself. I got wrapped, confused, convinced, lost, trapped, tangled with people. I couldn’t see straight, think clearly, and was often fooled by people.

Sometimes, it’s so hard to see the truth even when it’s staring you in the face. When people show you who they are, believe them.  When they hurt you, when they make comments, drill holes in your boat when you think they’re rowing, when they isolate you, separate you, drop you, can’t be there for you. Believe them.

But often times we get corded at the heart.  They pull our strings and we get confused, setting ourselves on fire to keep them warm, putting their oxygen mask on first and finding ourselves passed out with no one to help us.

I found myself there, a lot.  Passed out on the floor, a shell of a person, filling up everyone around me, only to find myself with people who were takers.  I’d store it all until my own edges became hard, heart closed, frustration, hard exterior.

Putting forward the don’t give a fuck girl.

Facing her.  Facing all of what created her.  Tearing it apart was death.  Unbecoming who I was not, chipping away at the shell, the armour, the hard exterior, spike by spike, brick by brick, until the walls fell.

And under the rubble was a hurt little girl, an emotionally stunted child who had shut down and was still reacting and acting from decisions and soul contracts, set jaw, stomped foot, who decided that life was too scary, unstable, people couldn’t be trusted, never let anyone in, never let anyone close enough to hurt you.

If I wore masks, bubble wrap, bricks, put blinders on I couldn’t see or feel anything. Numb was my emotional set point.

Death was the dismantling of who I became, who I thought I was to give over to something new, a rebirth of sorts, a raising of myself, a decision to be someone different, someone better, someone who was open, led with the heart, listened to intuition and discernment on who to trust, who to let in, instead of paining everyone with the same brush.

In the beginning without walls that’s what I did.  I saw the possibility, beauty, goodness within everyone. I opened up and let everyone in. I had no defences.  A 30+ year old woman who was learning what I should have learned when I was 13, 15, 17, 20… that I didn’t integrate properly because I wasn’t “home” inside of myself.

Opening the doors to everyone meant I got hurt, again. It also meant I had an opportunity to act, to go deeper, to find old wounds, to ask why I wasn’t listening to what I already knew, what was too anxious to find friends, home, myself – what was so uncomfortable in the unknown?

Why was I still trading, seeking validation and approval, fitting in?  When I slowed it all down, I knew. There were warning signs, alerts, hair raising, things not making sense… but still, I went.

Because I didn’t trust myself. If others saw that person as someone who could be trusted, then I thought there must be something wrong with me, I’m just negative or jealous or all those meme’s we see about when you don’t support people. In reality, it was my vibe, my intuition, my inner voice say “hold up”.

And I didn’t listen, because I like things the hard way.  I like to learn lessons a few times. Have my face shoved into them, rip wounds open, bleed deeply, before I go “oh, maybe…”

In all seriousness, though, it’s hard when you don’t know, when you didn’t get a chance to develop proper coping tools, healthy emotions, healthy boundaries, self worth or self esteem.

I didn’t have any of those.

In fact, I had so little that when someone was remotely nice to me I was in shock.  I always had my guard up and my spikes out, deflecting and inadvertently hurting others. But it was necessary for my growth.  Without the walls I could now see what felt good, what didn’t.  I learned coping, emotions, boundaries, worth, assertiveness, confidence, belief, power, empowerment…

Not everyone had those installed at a young age. Some of us have been through a lot, put on masks so no one would know, pretended, and denied and blinded ourselves to the truth until we experience enough pain that we finally said “no more”.

Some of us have to burn away who we were not so we could become who we are.  That doesn’t happen overnight and it’s not sunshine and roses while it’s happening, it’s like gut wrenching, fear facing, trauma inducing, can’t breathe but somehow finding a way to keep going because you know there has to be more than this, that life isn’t about suffering and dying.

The storms rage and they settle.  There is turmoil and calm.  There is forward and backward.  There is pain and beauty in that pain. There is unbecoming. There is letting go. There is finding and reclaiming and hanging on.

And there is a place within us, with you, within me, that is just us, nothing else exists but the truth of who we are.  And it’s buried under stories, stuff, beliefs, experiences.  As we unbecome and unpack, we reclaim, we find, we install, we pick up …

And in that picking up, we build.

And one day the storms are over, the building is finished and you’ve transformed your whole life. The clouds part, the drama and trauma is settled.  And you know in your soul it’s over.  The storm you thought would kill you, the storm you thought you couldn’t withstand.

Not only withstand it but you thrived in it, you became the wild one in it, the warrior, you were born in the fire, you were created in the storm, the roots ran deep and now you know you can sway in the worst of storms and stay standing.

As you are reborn, you come into your full power, there is a peace, a calm, a knowing, that has never been present before.  It’s a place where you know who you and what you’re purpose is. It’s home.  It’s the place you’ve been longing for but couldn’t find, didn’t even know for sure if it existed.

But it does and when you find it, you feel like you belong.  You understand not everyone is for you, you don’t stay in places where people don’t treat you well, you don’t even argue about it, you just don’t go back there.

There is no talking about who didn’t treat you right, there is less talking about where you’ve been and more talking about where you’re going.

And that’s when you know, that it’s here, that the storm is over, that the rebirth has happened because you’re confident, calm, quieter on the inside, in your power and ready for the future.

If I can give anyone one piece of advice it’s to do it, go for it and keep going when you think it’s not working, when you think you can’t handle it or you want to put it all back together. Take off the armour.  It’s not helping you.  It’s imprisoning you.

Don’t put it back together.  If it was broken in the first place, putting it back together broken won’t change anything and you’ll only stay in some of sort of purgatory for even longer.

Do move forward.  Keep going.  Dig deeper.

It comes together, I promise. It just takes time and commitment but once you get to the other side it’s the very feelings you were hoping for, the place you were seeking, but you weren’t even sure, existed.

It does.

And if I can help you take your own journey home to you – let’s have a virtual tea ->
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