.view-item.hide-page-title .title-desc-wrapper .page-title-wrapper, .view-item.hide-page-title .title-desc-wrapper .page-title, .view-item.hide-page-title .title-desc-wrapper .page-title+br{ display:none; } .collection-type-blog.view-item { .banner-image img { display: none; } .page-title, .page-desc { color: #000; } }

Viewing entries tagged

On the sometimes messy road to healing...


On the sometimes messy road to healing...


It’s been a little bit of a messy week emotionally. I’ve had some love and I’ve lost some love and the grieving process shook me up (as grieving processes should). I’ve come out of it on the other side though much more intact and a lot more aware and hopefully a little bit more healed. Fingers crossed.


What I realized in my self-exploration is that I was still reeling from old hurts I experienced in GRAMMAR SCHOOL. Grammar school dear. Like age 6 to 10. I grew up in a neighborhood where the popular people were mixed, light-skinned and had curly-hair. That still rolls off my tongue with such ease because it was something that I was painfully aware that I was not. My hair was wooly, I was not mixed and even though I was light-skinned, I still somehow got the ugly streak.


Now this is my kid-self talking. My adult self of course knows that I was NOT ugly, I was JUST shy and had my step-father been a little better at making me feel adequate, I wouldn’t have quite needed the validation of all of those mean little kids who were acting out their dysfunctions too.


So in my current relationship situation, I think I’ve realized what is there to heal at least right now - what the mirror is showing me today. My little girl self is still comparing herself to the light-skinned, mixed, curly-haired girls she went to grammar school with. Maybe not even comparing. Maybe still feeling the most gut-wrenching, despair-filled sense of helplessness and hopelessness because she was not born that way. In her logic, maybe if she’d been born that way, all this other stuff would be different too because surely the light-skinned, mixed, curly-haired girls had it better. On the playground they certainly did.


Plus the old stories of withholding affection being a tool of manipulation that causes me to scramble to get and maintain that attention and affection made an appearance as well. Adult Leah is well aware that she doesn’t *need* anyone else’s attention or affection, yet somehow my current situation triggered all of that subconscious reacting as I strove to be patient, understanding and unattached.


The one thing I can gladly say is that the Universe never fails me, even when I’m screaming at it. I was guided every step of the way to these revelations. By following my urges, I got the answers I was seeking and I do believe that some profound healing is in the process of unfolding.


I know by now that I don’t always have to decipher the whys and that I don’t actually have to do any of the heavy lifting. I just have to ask the questions and be open to hearing and exploring the answers *and then* I have to remember to ask for help.