So there’s a theory that’s been running riot over this end, this week, and has gone for a jog on my inner treadmill, and sprinted away with story. It’s meant I’ve ended up withdrawing. Well, withdrawing the bits of information or the sides of myself I so desperately wanted to share…instead I end up sharing the other bits – daily life, my joker side, my good friend I’m-there-for-you side. I reach out but then start talking about something else or only touch on the subject I wanna touch on but then shame and judgement and this theory takes off on the treadmill and I change subject, or never even touch not the subject.
The theory? Well, it’s more of a belief, I guess. It’s the belief that everything that’s happened to me is my fault. That the reason I don’t have family in my life is because of me. Both of both these theories marry up and have given birth to this (very old and stagnant) belief that I’m not worthy of love or support…that something’s wrong with me…that I’m unloveable…that I need to withdraw, keep quiet, only share the pretty, sunny, smiley bits, because I don’t deserve to share the rest. I don’t deserve to be seen because what people will see is the side that has done wrong, the side that is worthy of all the hideous shit that happened to me growing up and in my adult life…the side that was so hated by my mum…
This is huge to really let this insecurity be heard and seen and have words, but what a load of blah blah blah. There’s no way that shit is true. As much as a big chunk of me believes it – because why on earth wouldn’t I, I’ve got SO much ‘proof’ this theory is true. But then there’s the other part of that is growing and beginning to get a voice…beginning to be heard. And what it has to say is this: THAT BELIEF IS A LOAD OF TOSH. It seems to be the part of me that is bringing these old theories and stagnant beliefs to the surface in order for them to heal. It’s the part of me that is growing and finding my identity away from the trauma identity that I have known for oh-so many years. This is the part of me that is becoming stronger and will be the part of me that kicks all these inner critics in the nuts and has a gentle and compassionate, or badass, talk with the beliefs that are lingering – one by one – and show them what is actually the truth. Not the messed up truth that has been inherited with/from the trauma. Trauma isn’t truth – the incidents might be but not the shit that follows.
Noticing these beliefs, this one mega fat belief that I’m not worthy and that I’m unloveable is definitely the key to healing it. Noticing noticing noticing. Sometimes – a lot actually – I notice I slip and fall onto the wave of belief, surfing the Believing Surfboard, along with my critics. But other times, like right now, I get on a different surfboard – the Noticing Surfboard – and hold compassion for myself as I ride alongside the Belief Surfboard and the characters chatting away on it. I just watch it and don’t slip into the withdrawal I so desperately long to do. Because, I am beginning to realise, with all this surfing, that actually none of it was my fault. I don’t believe it yet but I do trust the people that have told me it isn’t…and so that means they aren’t lying…so that means it is true.