A friend of mine told me that I had been in a dream of hers.
We were in her studio, the one that she's outfitted and arranged in real life but hasn't quite christened yet with her creative impulses, and I was encouraging her to smear fingerpaint on the walls. Her daughter was showing her how easy it was, dancing to some inspired music while she expressed herself with the paint. I smiled knowingly at both of them, egging my friend on to join in.
That's exactly how I see myself, I said after the telling, someone who holds the space for others to step into who they really are.
But it wasn't always like this.
I used to think that the actions I might take in the direction of attaining a dream or the life I wanted would never accumulate to any noticeable critical mass.
I've since shown myself, over and over again, that that is faulty reasoning.
For decades, I had so successfully supressed my emotions that I didn't know what they were in any given moment, were you to ask me to identify them.
I've since reclaimed my feelings and the guidance they provide, to the point that they often register on my radar in very subtle but profound ways.
I used to think that the talents and gifts I was born with were of no value to anyone.
I've since discovered that there are people out there looking for what I have to offer, and the world would be a lesser place for everyone if I were to choose not to.
These realizations, and my friend's dream, are all uppermost in my mind because of a recent conversation in which awareness almost slapped me across the face.
Another person had been peppering the discussion with statements of entrenched self-deprecation, and with such conviction of their merit, that I was nearly wincing from her pain.
I remember looking across the restaurant table and being struck by how unattractively this person was coming across, both in the metaphysical sense and in the interpersonal, in spite of every shred of physical evidence to the contrary.
And I wondered how many people over the years had felt that way about what I might have said about myself out loud, for everyone and my psyche to hear.
I remarked upon this conversation a little later with another friend, and asked that he bring it to my attention when I indulge in what I understood now to be inaccurate descriptions about me.
"I can't think of a time I've ever heard you say something like that," was the response.
This stopped me in my tracks.
I was thrilled that this was so.
It was unsolicited, tangible proof of just how far I have come on my journey, and eventually prompted the list of attitudinal shifts with which this piece began.
While there are still many inaccurate perceptions I have of myself that need to be wrestled to the ground to say Uncle, I acknowledge and appreciate the work that I've done thus far.
I think again to the person in pain, the one whose estimation of her worthiness is currently dwelling in the underbelly of the emotional scale. I am holding the space for her return to herself, to reclaim who she really is.
The shedding of layers of personality that do not serve is challenging, I know from experience - risky business of the highest order. Apple carts overturn, status quo explodes, boats get rocked. Speaking truths that have been silenced for so long feels like breaking the rules.
And oh man, does that feel good.
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