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“What keeps the world in chains but your beliefs? And what can save the world except your Self? Belief is powerful indeed. The thoughts you hold are mighty, and illusions are as strong in their effects as is the truth. A madman thinks the world he sees is real and does not doubt it. Nor can he be swayed by questioning his thoughts’ effects. It is but when their source is raised to question that the hope of freedom comes to him at last.”~ A Course in Miracles
The shame I’ve carried heavy, the excavation process immense.
I will never change where I came from or my past. I ran around this world carrying the labels I’d been given. I slapped them on my chest like the “flair” worn by employees at TGI Friday’s—there was no mystery to me.
I was clearly unbalanced and untethered to reality. I had no direction, I had nothing, I was nothing, and that was my core belief. I had no idea how to fix this problem and not one tool to work with.
I published this original article last week in the “Grassroots” section without an editor.
It was something that I have never put into words because I was too afraid to do so. I was afraid to go back and visit the moment because I knew it would lead to something deeper. It would lead to the root of my pain. It would lead me to where I was held in my mother’s womb—where each beating she endured, my heart would race with hers.
Last week, I went against my fear and I let my feelings flow through my fingertips. I’ve always been intimidated by power because I have always felt inferior. I have been so angry at the injustice but could never articulate it in words until this September when the words just kept coming—and the memories of the things that happened.
My voice had been silenced so many times and, as a human being, my rights were violated over and over.
I wanted to scream like a child, I wanted to have the biggest temper tantrum. I wanted to scream “f*ck you!” and punch and claw all the people who took from me.
From day one of my life, a force that came in different forms took advantage of my circumstance. I smiled and then lowered my head to it. That’s what I thought peace was, to please keep the earth still and steady.
It came by way of family first where my voice was stifled.
Men who kept their daughters of similar age close and pure but sat across the table while I drank wine and cream soda at six years old, making the rest of that time a haze, too thick to see. Then by men who worshiped their wives while turning to whisper dirty secrets in my ear.
An interesting thing happened while I was doing the deep work of trying to understand why I did the things I did. A bright light was shined on the things that happened. I have lived 1,000 lifetimes of pain. I have made 1,000 mistakes and the one thing that is different now is that I remember.
I remember you. I know the broken pieces that you hide and the contradictions that you live.
By letting my inner child have her tantrum, I’ve sliced through the power cord with the sharp truth from the past. It’s been cut; it’s been severed.
We are all made of God.
God knows me, he knows my truth and he knows my heart.
I am not trash; I am not disposable. I have value, I am love, and I am loved.
I’ve now taken off all the flair others have put here—the flair I’ve held onto. I’ve claimed my voice and will use it to pray for me and to pray for you. My voice will be used to show and share the abundant light that we are all made of once we step out of the shadows.
It’s possible and I am proof of that.
I remember who I am and who I have always been and I am standing in it now. I am made of both shadow and light and so are you.
I have climbed up and out and I am claiming my peace—and I hope you can too because that’s what I wish for you.
“The only cure for illusions is truth, the only cure for a mistaken identity is to remember who you are.” ~ A Course in Miracles
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