Forgive me. I feel very cynical these days. I have been in crisis mode for the last six months. I have read books on “self help”, I have seen therapists, osteopaths and meditated. But nothing is helping. Nothing until last week…
Last week, I read the book “Love Warrior” by Glennon Doyle Melton. Something sparked me. It was not that she was the “end all and be all” of self help. The book was fantastic! What connected with me, was the honesty she had with herself. This may have been the only thing I connected to with her book. I did not relate to her “capes” that she wore to deal with life. I never drank to oblivion, I never was bulimic, and I never did drugs. Those, I realise are her capes. Her ability however, to tell the world about all of her rock bottoms basically has allowed me to look critically of myself and know that I have the following issues:
- I care more for the people around me, what they think and how I can make their lives better- because asking them is way easier than asking myself.
- I apologize to everyone for basically “being me”.
- I love online shopping.
All of these things are diversion techniques to not deal with the issues that have allowed me to slowly (and not so subtly) think “I am not good enough”.
When I was young, my Father died of Cancer. The poor man started out with Testicular Cancer. In the 1970’s, Cancer was not fully understood to the degree it is today. As he waited, his Cancer grew and spread. It spread in his body for 3 years. This in turn made my Mom have to work well over time and my sister and I have to grow up differently. My dad’s ultimate demise was a brain tumor. I was 4 and a half. It was days before Christmas.
The magic of Christmas has always been a struggle for me. While the world counts down for the time of giving, remembering the gift of life and the time of sharing love; Christmas was a time for remembering that my Dad was taken away. It’s kinda always been that way. Don’t get me wrong! I LOVE Christmas. But, I love it because my Mom, who worked so hard to get through the dreadful anniversary, made Christmas magic. With great stress and overtime work; it was magic. But I digress…
My childhood before school was taking bad images of my Father in the hospital and making good ones for my brain to keep seeing. Daydreaming and taking stress to a “Unicorn world” was what I did. But, it became a habit, and a solid learned behaviour. What then ended up happening, was I began getting in trouble for not listening. The yelling and questioning started from Teachers in school. My mom, once I arrived home, would then have to figure out how to fix this problem. She kinda had enough on her plate at the time… so understandably so, I’d get in trouble at home. But… what was my coping mechanism? Daydreams and make believe.
I relate strongly with the students in the classroom of Charlie Brown cartoons. As I sat in French school from Kindergarten to grade 3, all I heard in the background of my daydream land was the muffled sound of the Teacher (mwah mwah, mwah mwah mwah….). I knew how to look at the speaker while I was bouncing on clouds in my head. The teachers thought I was listening. I can honestly say, I don’t think I spoke in school for 4 years. I didn’t know how to speak french. I was a classic case of being pushed through the system and the product of memorization.
Not learning the foundations proved to make learning VERY difficult for me in the years to come. I think of school… ugh… I cringe. So, why am I now a Teacher? So that I can take notice of the students who have trouble. To figure out ways of learning for the students who create barriers. Needless to say, it creates a lot of angst and many an hour of figuring out how to connect with their brains. Wait… what about my brain? Did I ever take the time for that? Hmmm. nope.
So, my point to all this bloggity blog is this; I have been off for a few of months from a concussion (my 5th one in my life) which then turned into an Anxiety fest. A horrible party of thoughts I didn’t invite but showed up anyways because, “a thought of a thought invited that thought, and then they came with the other thoughts…” It’s been the worst party I have ever attended. Ever. I have had to ask myself to “dance , talk and be intimate with myself” for all these months and I keep turning me away. I am not good enough.
“Can you even dance?”
“Hells Yes! Why would you think that?”
“Because you were at an event one time and you saw a colleague point and laugh at you while you were Dancing.”
“Oh yeah, that… well she did that to everyone…”
“So, then you can dance?”
“Yes. I can find a beat. I may not be ‘Dance Show’ worthy; but i know how to have fun!”
And so today, I’m going to start to dance. I warn you; It’s going to be full on elementary dancing. The “side step- hit heel- side step hit heel- keep arms straight and hands on shoulders” kinda dance. This blog will be my personal sharing of self discoveries. The courage I will take to do “extreme sports” with myself and understand as to why, I feel I need to apologize for me if I bounce of the big red ball badly in “wipeout scenes”. I am going to learn how to wipe out in style, stand up and like my daughter, scream “I’m ok!! and brush it off and keep going.” Dealt with, done and move forward. No apologies.
Gosh darn it… I am ok. I am good enough. (I give you permission to say it all in Stuart Smalley’s voice… I did too.)
I am off to read, experiment and learn. Ciao for now.