Guest Post by Sally G.
The Prologue
The Dark is such a curious place to be. On the one hand, it’s comforting and safe ~ no one can see you, you can let your guard down, rest your brain and completely forget that there’s a whole part of you that you’ve abandoned completely. In the Dark, it is really easy not to exist … at all.
On the other hand, the Dark gives a false sense of security. It is an enabler that entrenches you deeper and deeper into the shame of who you think you are. It is the resting place after the exhausting work of trying to manage and control how others perceive you to be; the respite after struggling to organize and speak the words you think others want to hear – the reward for rendering comfort and peace at all costs to avoid the missiles of anger, or worse, disappointment from locking you into their radar – and firing full speed.
In the Dark, it is natural to go unseen. If quiet, it is natural to go unheard. There’s relief and even peace in that. But the Dark is not faithful, it is a fair-weather companion at best ~ and the one thing you can count on is its consistent habit of ultimately exposing you to the light … and all the pain that comes with it.
I was four years old when I figured out a way around this. I was 33 years old when I found the courage to instead, move through this. I’m now 46 years old – and I now realize that the greatest gift I have ever allowed myself to receive – was finding my Truth along the way.
Truth Emerged From Behind My Greatest Fear
For decades, I feared closed doors.
I never shared that with anyone. I mean, seriously – how would something like this EVER fit naturally into the flow of conversation? In amongst the ‘real’ fears of life like Spiders or Snakes or Heights or Death … CLOSED DOORS didn’t really rank. Even a fear of Clowns is more respectable and comprehensible than a Closed Door for goodness sakes.
It’s safe to write that here though ~ in this space for shared secrets and excavated Truths. I used to imagine myself on a therapist’s couch – discussing the whole ‘door’ issue. Therapists mean well, don’t they? It’s just – they’re human … and humans have a propensity to immediately try to catalogue and categorize and sort information upon hearing it. Information has to ‘fit’ somewhere, it has to be processed – even if it has to be squished a little or crushed or wrinkled or re-shaped to fit the compartment its been slotted to.
And from there, beliefs sometimes spring – from which flow thoughts, actions and reactions that forget they birthed from a warped or distorted belief in the first place because the seed was placed in a holder of someone’s choosing rather than the place it truly belonged; in the open, for evaluation and assessment and rejection or acceptance.
I guess I felt I already knew all the different reasons people would tell me I fear closed doors. “You are afraid of the unknown.” Or, “you aren’t comfortable entering into anything where you can’t clearly see the outcome in advance.”
I knew that wasn’t it though. I mean, yeah, for sure there were times when I wished I could see into the future so I’d feel more comfortable with the decisions I would be making in the present. But I never really feared venturing into the unknown. On some level, I understood that the unknown held vast potential – opportunities I may not be able to imagine on my own but would fully recognize later when they showed up.
I’ve also never really feared stretching my comfort zone and pioneering new territory. Gosh, I reinvented myself on such a frequent and regular basis – comfort zone stretching became a natural fit for me.
Done going around it, time to move through it
In my early 30’s, having left Professional ‘Me’ behind and focusing exclusively on Mothering two young girls under the age of two ~ I had the distinct great fortune to stumble across the concept of something called an Inner Spirit. The next thirteen years would move along at both an awkward and accelerated pace as I discovered ways to acknowledge the existence of a Truth that had lay dormant for decades – and ultimately to accept and honour that Truth.
Writing in a Journal helped me along the way. I clearly remember when this activity introduced itself into my life. The thought “I need to write in a Journal” surprised me as it seemingly came out of nowhere. I’d never really seen the point of keeping a Journal or a Diary before – I mean, the purpose of this activity is to document your private thoughts and feelings about aspects of your day, year or life. But to what end? I mean, who were all these Journal people actually writing to?
“They’re not writing to anyone” said the little voice from within – “they’re simply putting their thoughts and feelings on paper so they can look at them differently – from the outside, rather than from the turmoil that can sometimes swirl within.”
I wasn’t buying this though – the entire concept was polluted with flaws. For instance, there was always the chance that my Journal was going to be found by someone. And people being the curious creatures that they are, would likely say something to the effect of, “Hey look – it’s Sally’s Journal, let’s see what she’s put in there!”
Knowing this possibility existed – what prevented me from putting what I’d want people to read into my Journal rather than the whole truth as I felt it existed – because if others read the whole truth as I felt it to be, I’d never recover from the shame and humiliation – and then I’d have to move and start my whole life anew, far away from those who’d pigeon-holed me as something else completely, someone I’m really not at all, someone I’m no longer feeling connected to and really tired of supporting and putting energy behind.
The message in the fear
The instant I ‘said’ this in my head, I saw the image of a closed door. And I knew that if I ever hoped to move beyond this fear I’d been carrying for decades – that I’d be best starting with the purchase of a Journal, and that I would be writing to someone specific – someone I’d neglected for far too long; someone who spoke to me in the silence, leading me to thoughts and feelings that need to be addressed – but that took me by surprise none-the-less. Someone specific like me – the real me, the one that I really wanted to get to know, the only one I now truly desired to be.
So there I sat, writing to my Self. Writing as the ‘me’ everyone thought I was but who I was growing weary of because I had been disconnected too long from the ‘me’ that I was now writing to – the ‘me’ whose Truths could never be as shameful and humiliating as I’d somehow believed them to be.
I was writing to my Self – because in a dream long ago, I opened a closed door and saw a distorted version of myself already there, and I mistakenly believed that this distortion was who I really was – and so I quickly stepped back and shut the door again. And I’d been out there, closed off from the distortion, ever since.
When we know better, we do better
I first had that dream four decades ago. It was so vivid and what I recall most was the embarrassment and shame I felt as the ‘me’ walking into the room where the ‘other me’ had already taken up residence. That I’d actually think I had a place in the life I was getting by in seemed unthinkable to me. And while I was definitely not this lucid about the interpretation of this dream when I first had it (or all the subsequent times I dreamt it over the years), on some level I knew that the ‘door opener’ had to disappear – it was the only way to keep the room dweller, and her secret, safe.
I had built a life on the foundation that I could not please or be appreciated by other people on my own – and I’d dedicated my abilities to determining what was expected of me in any given situation by any given person, and then exceeding those expectations for recognition, love and respect. In that way, I disrespected my Self – I really felt that she’d just get in the way of me being who and what I needed to be to succeed in all areas of my life. I was glad she was shut away and gladder still when she didn’t even try to show herself anymore.
But I felt abandoned too, always believing that I alone was not enough. I’d spent all those years believing that I alone did not have it what takes to make people happy, to impress the world with my abilities, to even have any real abilities. And while the Truth came to me in the closed door nightmares through the years – she eventually stopped. She went somewhere way underground – and I knew she was in there somewhere, so I can only assume that she went deep in the silence. And it was my Truth that was speaking to me whenever I allowed myself to be still.
So now, here I sit, sharing this with all of you – in a place where I can proclaim I Am, and to often know what that means, to often feel the connection and the joy that stems from honesty, awareness, courage, responsibility and Truth; rooted in Integrity, strengthened and supported by Love.
Today I Am an Open Book
Today I am an Open Book – the kind you can just pick up and read anywhere. Not the kind that comes with its own lock and key. Not the kind that can only be shared with certain audiences at certain times. A book that can be taken anywhere and knows it’s still a book worth reading even if the person holding it at the time chooses not to think so.
I am a book that features a heroine with a vast array of emotions. My heroine is as strong as she is vulnerable, as courageous as she is cautious, as loving as she is careful and as creative as she is intelligent.
My heroine includes her Self in her own priority list. She has compassion and generosity of spirit and she shares it with those within her sphere of influence – including her Self.
My heroine’s journey is populated with all types of people – those who help her, support her, encourage her, challenge her and love her; giving her the motivation and inner will to maintain the journey with conviction.
She also meets people who block her, hurt her, sabotage her, misunderstand her, disrespect her and show no appreciation for her gifts and talents whatsoever. These people prove to be great gifts in her life – because they force my heroine to dig deep, to find her inner resolve, and to forge forward in spite of the obstacles – resulting in meaningful growth and a true sense of appreciation for the lessons learned along the way.
An Open Book does not try to be all things to all people. It does not try to represent or include an aspect or belief of every person who is going to read its pages. And it does not take someone’s lack of interest or willingness to read its story as a personal statement of its overall quality.
An Open Book can be distinct and unique and wonderful alone – or lined up on a shelf with other distinct, unique and wonderful books.
Today I am an Open Book – real, riveting, complete. Read me if you like, but don’t crack the spine. I hate when people do that.
What might you be Today?
About Sally G.: Sally is a self-professed work-in-progress who has chosen to keep the aspects of herself that work ~ releasing old habits, labels and tendencies that do not. Chanting the mantra “Self-Actualization ain’t no place for sissies” ~ she fully supports, encourages and inspires all the courageous travellers she meets along the way. Sally’s reflections, humour and insight are on full display on her blog site and on Twitter
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I'm Elizabeth Potts Weinstein, a writer, teacher, and coach.