Who are you when no one is watching?
Who are you when you can rest in unconditional belonging and inherent worthiness?
Who are you when you don’t have anything to prove?
Who are you when you feel deeply held and resourced?
Who were you before the world got its hands on you?
There were years that I could not look at pictures of myself as a child.
The chasm between that innocent little one and my life’s experiences seemed too great cross. The grief felt like a tidal wave.
The splintering of my soul began so young that it was hard for me to remember who I was before. Before who I was was the problem. Before other people decided that my spirit was something to be broken and controlled.
I have a stubborn streak. A quality that has served me well at times, but has also led me to persist beyond all reasonable limitations.
But over time, like so many of us, I internalized the messages I received from my caregivers, teachers, religious leaders, peers and bosses.
I tucked away the tender parts of myself and fine-tuned the characteristics that were more palatable to outside forces … over-indexing on the qualities that seemed to give me a place in the world. The perception of control, belonging, value and worth.
Calling upon levels of endurance, persistence, and dissociation cultivated through a traumatic childhood, I literally broke myself before I let go …
of the American definition of success and the compulsion to be a cog in the wheel of polite society
of my marriage
of my internalized beliefs about perfection, vulnerability, and what it means to be human
of my conditioning around work, hustle, productivity, and performance (aka “you can sleep when you’re dead” and also “go big or go home”)
of my denial that I had any real needs beyond the bare minimum
of my hyper-independence and insistence on shouldering the world all on my own out of a belief that no one would choose (or be strong enough) to meet me and hold me just as I am.
When I finally I let go of who I was “supposed” to be, I was able to begin walking myself home. Home to my body. Home to my spirit. Home to the parts of me I had neatly–with overwhelming logic and rationality–tucked away or banished to the fringes of my existence. Home to my wholeness. Home to my own light.
What have you sacrificed at the altar of acceptance, belonging and safety? I am not judging you. I ask with humility born out of crawling back to myself on my hands and knees … navigating through the dark night of the soul without a map … and wondering, on many, many occasions, if I would ever make it out.
The protective parts of you that have been keeping you safe, have damn good reasons for doing so. And depending on your circumstances, you may still need some of those protectors to stand guard.
But what about the adaptations that are no longer serving you? The ones that are keep you cut off from the fullest expression of your light on this earth? What if they are keeping you numb, small, silent, distant, disconnected, reactive or exhausting yourself from chasing things that cannot fill the void, no matter how much you accumulate?
What if you are disillusioned with the bullshit you have been sold about what this life is for and what is possible (or impossible) but you aren’t sure how to change course?
The truth is, your protective parts are likely deeply tired, though they put up a good fight to stem any appearance of vulnerability or weakness. It takes a lot of energy to wrestle against your own true nature. And your fractured parts long to return home.
All of the parts of you crave wholeness. To be acknowledged, embraced and reintegrated.
In my darkest moments, I was afraid that the light–the potential and possibility I could see so clearly for and in others–was not available for me too. But that wasn’t true. My light has been here all along. And my own nervous system adaptations almost extinguished it for good.
I invite you to reflect on the questions I asked at the beginning of this email. I invite you to share your answers with me by replying if you would like to. And if the answers don’t come readily, that’s okay. I encourage you to keep asking. Sometimes, the exiled parts of ourselves will need more than one invitation before they trust that we are ready to listen.
Keep inviting yourself back into this moment, this lifetime, this story, this future. Keep inviting yourself back into your light.
Love,
Booth
p.s. If you desire personalized support in reclaiming or stepping more fully into your own light, customized to your unique nervous system blueprint, somatic coaching might be for you. Check out my current coaching offerings or schedule a Discovery Call.