Alone in the Shadow

I'm not quite sure how to start this blog. Anakha and I were talking earlier: I had just read her blog, in which she exposed her deepest vulnerability in revealing her essential shadow. It was truly moving, beautifully heart-wrenching, and preciously innocent. She was telling me how her doubt in being so nakedly exposed, yet after reading it I felt even more love, respect, and admiration for her, with no judgment whatsoever. As we are both on this quest for love and wholeness, for seeking authentic truth and finding the courage to fully show up in this world and in these times, she invited me to do the same: to reveal my own shadow. As I wish to stand with her in coming forth, and as I wish to stand with all of you in the truth of who I am, I will speak about my own shadow. This is not the time to hide. It is time to stand in the truth: the truth of our pain and suffering. This is the only way it can be healed.

I have always felt alone in this world. Separate. Apart. Much of my childhood was spent alone, often in my room. Hiding from my father, from his rage, believing that I was the source, the reason for all his pain, that it was all my fault. I was the problem. There was something wrong with me. Trying to heal my mother, in her pain and neediness, but never being able to give her enough: enough for her to want me, to love me. Being good, being nice and sweet, suppressing my own needs, my own anger, because otherwise she'd leave. There was no room for me, no space to be myself. I became really good at containing myself: trying to do everything right and perfect, controlling my behavior, being careful and cautious, because otherwise I'd be punished. Trying to please, trying to give, thinking that if I gave enough that one day I would get back the love that I so desperately wanted. My worth is in what I offer to others, not who I am.

Part of me, a deep part, still feels alone. I feel afraid to show up fully because you might want or need something from me: my desire, my attention, my energy. I can't say no, because I'll lose you, hurt you, or both. So I stay back, detached, aloof. Instead I give, because I want to be worthy. I want you to love me back, to hold me, but even if you do, I can't let it in. Too much. You might want something, take advantage of me, use me. I feel angry at you because I expect you to take care of me, even though I won't let you, because I sometimes don't know how to take care of myself.

There is nowhere to move. No space, except here in this empty place. No room for love to come in. No room to let it out. Boiling rage, because I don't get what I need, truly need, because it's all about what you need. Sometimes I don't even know what I need, and, if I do, I feel to ashamed or afraid to ask for it. It is a tight space, my body constricted, my anger is bad, no one cares anyway about what I feel, no one wants to hear it, they only want to share their own and have me be there for them, so I've learned not to say much, not to give too much away, not to show too much emotion. Anger, sadness, grief, lonliness, wanting to be held and seen, afraid to be held and seen, vicious circle, stuck, stuck, trapped.

Time to kick the door open, stand up in myself, in my power, and hold myself up. Hold myself in my yes and in my no. Even as I take up more space, I feel this heavy weight trying to pull me back, restrain me, keep me safe. Don't be seen, or I'll be attacked and abandoned. Don't have needs. I'm not worthy of what I truly desire, always a struggle, always something to work through.

I am learning to receive, receive the grace that is present. I am learning to be, relinquish the role of healer and caretaker, say fuck you when I need to, speak up, speak out, take up some space. I attempt to avoid being alone when I'm already alone, crying out, yearning for real intimacy and connection. I am not always confident. I am not always strong. I often don't know what to do or what I want and need.

I have been asking God for help, for support, for this love and connection and intimacy that my heart has always sought. With each step, with each relationship, I do feel it coming. Learning to receive. Taking care of myself. People are showing up. People are still standing with me: Anakha, Chris, Gene, Nicole, Dan, Cheri, Johnathan, Karen, Omi. Many others. I am ready to let you in, and to let myself out. It is happening.