Wounded Heart Takes Leap

I’ve always had something to say, but panicked at the thought of saying it. I realize this is a universal mentality, and I thought it wise to break it down to its less-scary bits and pieces.

OK, so, where’s the panic coming from? Feeling like I’m much farther down in the whirlpool of mistakes than I am & thus the state I wish to attain is that much farther than I thought. AKA – Baggage. So much of it.When & how do I get to feel normal reactions to daily stresses without said baggage skewing my emotions?

I’m walking around with slaps, bruises, scars, images of my past, all of it circling back, vivid recollections of how things were. Right there is where I get trapped. There is where I lose my voice (which if you know me is very literally possible). I remember losing my voice as a kid, and looking back I see that was my first soul-crushing experience. Fighting and yelling with my siblings and friends until I had shut myself up, literally.

I still feel that little-sister mentality: people pleasing, timid, pragmatic, and diplomatic. Where in that mix is what I actually think? What is it I truly want to say, and more importantly, why can’t I say it? So often I’d deem my state of mind unworthy according to an antiquated social and moral structure. The important lost message there is that expression is vital. That I, girl, have worked through, even if only minutely, the stuff going on in my head.

Fear is central here–fear of change, unwillingness to risk what I have, not even sure what I’ll do will compromise that. Fear of losing control. Where in my life did I feel that? Obviously in retrospect, it was everywhere. Grades, sports, friends, boyfriends, teachers, parents, cousins, and detrimentally, my own body. I still have days I feel unutterably captive by my unspoken opinions, detrimentally discouraged by the slightest rebuttal or criticism. Feeling like I’m always scheming for control, a way of life I was born into, indoctrinated by my environment this way.

Truth is, there is no short list or most morally-acceptable way to become successful that I can maneuver my way into. Obviously I’d prefer true and honest communication and love between all souls all the time…and yet here I am disregarding these things as possible. My own mistakes and wrong-doings are plenty, but that doesn’t mean I have to concede to a way of life that is limiting. Making concessions has got to be the main thing holding me back all these years and to this day.

Where else do I feel left behind by the wagon headed for paradise? Where did I get the beliefs that support and defend making concessions constantly in my life? The same list of things I’ve tried to “keep in control” my whole life are the very things requiring I concede my true nature. There are so many instances I can think of where I actually don’t know with clarity if I’m making concessions or doing what’s right. What’s it going to take for me to transition/switch to the way of thinking that is free from concessions?

My compulsive nature wishes it was a simultaneous reaction from a singular event. My strategic nature sees this isn’t the way. What can I do to work towards minimizing my complacent nature & maximizing my expressive nature? Why do I question an absence of habits when I do nothing to support their formations? At first and for a while I’ve been in a state of limbo, basically waiting for these answers to fall in my lap. I wanted expertise but this is the absolute opposite way to gain it. Practice, repetition, reoccurring exposure, and supportive activities are how any and all of us get anywhere.

So here I am, practicing. Hoping that with more practice I’ll finally learn to acknowledge my soul’s voice, whispering hoarsely behind my words and actions. Maybe I’ll feel freer to take on more meaningful parts & actions in my life. That’s where I feel most stuck–what do I actually DO? That’s why I feel like writing is it. This voice has been lost for too long, and I think my younger self is doing cartwheels hearing about how I’ve found it again.

 

Always with peace, love, & a kick-in-the-butt,

Lizzie V.

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