Unafraid to be Open

(This was mostly written during the dark few weeks before I went to the reservation where I feel some profound experiences happened for me. I am still processing what happened there) 

For many years, I’ve been afraid to let others see me, truly see me. I think I had always felt a need to protect myself, my life, my actions, my very being from scrutiny. Some of this probably comes from being around people all of my life who have taken actions on any number of levels to hurt me.  When I was younger, it had to do with my skin color, as I grew older, it had to do with my desire to be liked/loved, in recent years, it’s been more to do with jealousy, or envy of my development as a being, and the integrity with which I try to run my life. I have come far, and it’s taken a lot of blood, sweat and tears to get where I am—which is why I’ve never understood the jealousy.

 I have also had a sort of reputation to uphold as a strong woman, a strong mother, a strong priestess, a strong therapist, etc. etc. etc. in ad nausea. I’ve always been afraid of letting anyone see behind those facades that I somehow thought I had to keep up.  I’m laying it all down for now, I’m tired of it all—really. I always felt the need to keep it up for those around me. With my daughters gone, and my life as it is just now, I don’t think it really matters. I truly don’t care anymore what anyone thinks of me—from now on, I plan to be just who I am, and who I wish to be in any given moment.  

 I was raised by an amazing bunch of women, and I say bunch because there were my two great aunties, my one great-great auntie, and, there were a number of female cousins and a great uncle all in the house when I was growing up. They all taught me various pieces about growing up in a world where one wasn’t always welcome, where one had to struggle against some status quo, where one was judged by the color of ones skin rather than the content of ones character—ala MLK. 

I learned to hide. I had a boss once who identified this quality of mine, the ability to hide oneself in plain sight. I could be right there, seemingly accessible, seen but actually hiding. I have done this in my family, my work situations, my various jobs, etc. It’s a great skill to have—being invisible at will. Yet, it also allows one to create a façade, or a mask that one wears to cover who one might really be. Mostly it was done out of survival, yet also out of some sort of need, as an introvert, to get some inner space and time away from the prying eyes of all those around me who are infinitely curious about who I am, and what makes me tick.(I ask that you buy and read my book—She of Many Colors: A Black Woman’s Journey to Self Through the Divine Feminine, if you want to know a good part of who I am.)

I grew up with dreams and aspirations like any other child growing up. Somewhere along the way, I came to understand the hideousness of racism, and the effects of internalized oppression. I don’t remember when or why I came to hate myself, but I’m pretty sure it started after I got into school, and had to face down the mean kids who would taunt and tease and call me names…

Move to now, after many years of schooling, and a program for my Master’s degree that caused me to really look at all that I’d been through. I’ve come to see how I have had to learn to hide the pain, the struggle, the poverty, then, over the last few years to keep working to hide as well as to overcome a deep depression that set in after my mother died. I realized only lately that I had no one to impress anymore. I had no one to impress as to how good I was, how perfect, how successful, etc.  So, little by little, my true self has been seeping out under the edges. I can no longer pretend that I’m perfect or that I have it all together. I am truly sad to let down those who’ve needed to put me up there as some shining example of all they ever wanted to be…I am who I am. Someone who feels still out of place in a world where people are mean, where people use each other, where  we have lost a sense of the sacred. I have tried to keep it alive in my own life, yet, at times I falter. At times I am overcome and overwhelmed by what is wanted of me—needed of me…in all the many hats I have to wear…and at night, I am alone…for many years now, and I’ve grown weary of it, so deeply weary. Yet, I’d rather be alone than to spend my time with those who can’t be authentic, and those who only want something of me without being willing to be reciprocal.

 I’m only me, a very flawed individual. As I have watched over the last few weeks, my identity disintegrating, it has become very clear that some rebuilding will be in order. I’m not sure where to start, but I feel this journey is where I will be able to get some ideas.  I have been able to take stock and see what I’ve got left—what are the essential parts of myself that I am still carrying?

I love myself. I didn’t always, but I do now, and it’s taken work to get here, and I’m glad I’m here.

I love my twin daughters. They are the main beings in my life—besides myself.

I love my friends, those people who’ve stuck it out with me through thick and thin, good and bad, they’ve always been there. There are very few of them at this point, and they know who they are.

I love my family because I came from them in this lifetime, and they taught me values that have guided me all of my life…We are very different however, and don’t always agree, but I love them just the same.

I love my work as a therapist, I deserve to be paid well for the fact that I am really intuitive and good at what I do. I no longer allow people to take advantage of my skills…

I’m finding that I love to write.

I’m a multi-faceted individual, there are many sides to me, and I can show any one of them, and each of them is still me. I don’t care if anyone is shocked at some of the parts of me that exist—the very sexual me, the little girl me, the flirty seductive me, the powerful me, the passionate about causes me, the activist me, the me who says just what she thinks, and more, much much more.

I abhor violence. I hate violent acts, I become physically ill at the sight of cruelty to any being, I cannot stand violence in any form. I hate few things and war is one of them. I live to bring about non-violent change in the world.

I am at my core very loving. I love to be kind, it causes me a visceral feeling of warmth and connectedness when I can be loving or kind to someone or something. I love to smile and laugh with babies, clerks in grocery stores, street people, anyone I encounter who looks down trodden. I love to be loving.

I love Mother Earth. I love Her with all my heart mind body and spirit. I will always do what I can to protect and take care of Her. 

I love my spiritual path, it has led me in the most amazing directions of growth and learning. I could not at this point in my life, give it up or trade it for any other set of beliefs, for they represent truth to me. I will serve as a priestess until the day I die. I will do what is asked of me, especially if it is for the greater good.

I chose the path of the healer. I will continue to heal myself, and those around me who wish it, for as long as I breathe air.

I will endeavor always to not bring harm to anyone or anything.

I will always hold that love is indeed the key...

So ‘that doesn’t sound like a bad basis from which to start. It would seem that I am still mostly intact, though shaken to my core. I’m not sure how I will be re-forming myself, but I’m glad to know that there is a core left that is easy to work from. I know that the Tower card of the tarot has been sort of intense this time around. I’m having to be more authentic, more real, less dependent and as me as I can be. I can’t really be anything else—can I?