© Miriam A. Mason
Okay, I think I have mostly finished. There might be a story or two, or a discussion or two (or three or four, whatever) left in me. But now it's time to take a-hold of the reigns of my life and steer where I want to instead of where everybody else did.
I have been skipping meditation to let this all work through. No more. Time to begin meditating again. Time to call upon myself all the goodness I deserve through Radical Self Love.
Time to awaken the sleeping child, who cowers in fear because she thinks she doesn't deserve success or safety or comfort.
I need to convince that little girl, that small me, more than anyone else. So that I can stop the panic and fear from ruling and call upon wisdom and joy.
I want to break the pattern. Not just break it, but shatter it into tiny unrecognizable pieces that I can rebuild from scratch into something beautiful, something new, something alive and authentic in this world.
I can always find ways to hate myself. But finding ways to love myself, now that is radical. That is forward thinking. That will work, as long as I can convince that small girl, who still hides under the table so much of the time.
Note to self: Loving myself, does not mean hating on others (although sometimes it feels that way, when I have conversation with my parents in my head). Loving myself means speaking to that hiding child with utter respect and love. To reach my adult hand, even knowing the world is an uncertain place, under that table and to gently coax that girl out.
Because that girl is not only hiding from all the abuse she struggled with, all the ridicule and reduction and analysis and lecturing, but she is the one who knows Who I Really Am.
She's the one who I need to love first, before I love all the other parts of me. That frightened girl, hiding under the table, hoping that nobody sees her.
I see her. I see myself. I invite her into my arms to hold her tightly. Because, even in an uncertain world, unconditional love can work miracles.
I have to love her, and then I also have to forgive her, for she was only doing the best she knew how, and it wasn't her fault the adults around her were mentally sick and that what they subjected her to wasn't her fault, either.
I embrace her tightly in my arms and cling to her, for she will also give me the answers I am looking for and cannot find.
She is Me. Okay beautiful brilliant brain cells that make my subconscious, do your thing. I want to hold that little girl, rock her gently, listen to her tears, be that emotional rock she never experienced. And I want to let her do and be exactly what she is supposed to do and be. And tell me what that is.
Meditation begins in every now. I need to look for it there.
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