It’s a silly thing, to get ourselves all bent out of shape
because we think ourselves into
trouble. I am a prime example of someone who has over-complicated life with her
mind. If anyone ever says that thoughts are not objects, then they’re operating
on tired information. Thoughts like, “I can’t do this,” and “he left me because
I’m not lovable” and “he didn’t stop drinking because I wasn’t worth it” have
really done a number on my health, my sanity, and my whole life.
Something about my life circumstances, however, have led me
to an amazing place. I am not perfect, and I can finally accept my humanity. We
are all strong in our fragility, made even more powerful when we learn to be
vulnerable.
I used to think I had
to be hard-hearted, and so that’s the vibe I would give off. A friend in my
drama class was surprised the first time she saw me cry. We were rehearsing a
scene in which I had to get upset, and when the tears came down without my
consent, it surprised the both of us. She thought my life was perfect because I
was always happy, or at least stoic. Nothing seemed to affect me.
I thought if I
pretended hard enough, nothing could hurt me.
My parents divorced when I was eleven. My dad moved away to
become an alcoholic, and when I went to stay with him against my family’s
advice I discovered just how deep a hold his demons had on him. It was one of
the most trying times of my life. I tried my damndest to change him. The last
time I tried an emotional appeal, when a single tear escaped my façade of
composure, he had told me to “quit acting”.
No wonder I didn’t
want to show real emotion to people; they’d just think I was acting anyway.
Plus it was proof I was weak, that I could be hurt, and I deeply feared giving
anybody the power to hurt me the way my father had. He taught me to harden my
heart.
The rest of my story to date has been one big, long journey
toward re-discovering the power and freedom of vulnerability. And man, has it
been an incredible journey.
It’s ok if you don’t believe in destiny; I don’t either. But
I do believe that if we set our intention, we can encounter our purpose.
Step one in my
journey was using my anger to give me the energy to take care of myself in relationships.
Oh, boy – did I get angry! I tried the
tools I learned in therapy and support groups – “I” messages and soft words,
counting to ten – but it took a while for me to get the hang of it. My poor ex-boyfriend
dealt with my anger for four years. And when I finally started to let it go and
change my tune, he became resentful because I was busy telling him things that
he tried to tell me back when. What a mess to get ourselves into.
I sometimes feel like I’m not anyone who should be giving
life advice to people because I’m still figuring it out as I change my
relationship to my experiences and my thoughts about them.
Want to know a secret, though?
Well, it’s not really a secret. It’s just something that
I’ve stumbled upon, and there’s plenty of literature out there written by more
enlightened souls than mine.
And the secret is
this: we can change our life simply by watching
our thoughts. First we must identify
certain beliefs, and where they came from. Next, we must relinquish ownership over the hindering beliefs, and just as
important is accepting the thoughts that are good for us.
Changing from “I am not lovable” to “I am worthy of love”
is miraculous… but it took me a good while to be able to even whisper it, let alone think it without resistance.
It sounds like a simple concept, but it is one of the
hardest – and most rewarding and freeing – things I have ever attempted.
In the act of taking
responsibility for my thoughts, I was telling the universe that I was done
being a Ping-Pong ball, letting my fears over how other people will treat or
perceive me dictate how I treat myself.
Then the affirmations just started flowing. The ones that
were the hardest to say were often the ones I needed to say the most.
“I deserve to feel
my emotions openly.” This one was very hard at first.
“I am worthy of all good things in life.”
“I approve of myself.”
And if I couldn’t even say that, I could begin an
affirmation with the phrase “I am willing to learn to. . .”
Or simply, “I am willing to change”.
The lesson I learned
was not that I needed to accept fault for
my coping mechanisms – whether healthy or otherwise – but that I could choose to handle things differently. To
set myself free.
When my ex-boyfriend broke up with me, my entire world
crashed around me because I had made him and our life together my center – for
better or for worse. The worst part (or maybe the best, depending on how you
view it) was that his reasoning was, in his eyes, noble. He had descended into
a deep depression and saw how I had been pouring so much of myself into trying
to help him and in keeping a hold of our life together so it wouldn’t crumble.
When I found Louise L. Hay’s book, “You Can Heal Your Life” and started saying
her affirmations and working in my journal, he saw the change in me and it
deepened his guilt. He didn’t know how to tell me about his resentment, his
guilt, his distance. But I felt it, and I tried so hard to make him love me, I
demanded it. And when he couldn’t meet me in that loving space, he let me
go. The reason I say this is terrible is
because I couldn’t use my anger and hate that I was so used to in order to “get
over him”. If he had cheated, or been a complete asshole, or gambled all our
money away, it would have been easy to ‘write him off’ and blame our failed
relationship on him. Instead, I had to look inward and recognize my own part in
the parting. And not because I was fault-finding, but because his “adult break
up” allowed me to look inside in order to grow.
It was another one of
those “hardest moments of my life” things, and Louise helped me identify the
negative thoughts and beliefs that had led me to allowing myself to be a side character in someone else’s life
instead of the Leading Lady of my own.
Now, I can chalk up the experience to “growing pains” in the
understanding that all of us – every single one – go through it. We all feel
pain, of varying degrees, and we all experience loss. What sets us apart is our
ability to not just get through it
but to also grow through it.
I made the decision to be done allowing the pain of my past
to be a defining characteristic of my present.
It doesn’t mean I’ve
ascended pain and found enlightenment like some mythical monk on a beautiful,
ethereal hilltop. It means that it has become okay to feel. Okay to be sad.
Okay to feel love. Okay to risk heartbreak. Okay to share the deepest parts of me.
Okay to connect to people. Okay to let my walls down.
Sometimes it’s scary as hell, but when did people expand
horizons by remaining inside their comfort zones?
So my challenge to you is: dare to be vulnerable. Dare to
become responsible for your thoughts. It is one of the most courageous,
heart-poundingly meaningful gifts we can give to the world and to ourselves.
Side effects may include emotional freedom, bliss, moments of euphoria,
self-love, and the power to create the life of which you’ve always dreamed.
