Looking for Comfort

 Growing up in my home, there was something very important missing.

Comfort.

My mother didn’t have a nurturing bone in her body.

My father had anger issues. When his anger was triggered, he didn’t ask questions. He didn’t want answers.

He released his rage.

My sister struggled with jealousy. There always seemed to be another lie, another betrayal, another attempt to get me in trouble or hurt me.

And that never really changed throughout our lives.

My brother was mostly gone from the house, out doing what boys did.

But I know now that he was deeply affected too. He struggled with serious drug and alcohol addiction for most of his life.

We were all carrying something.

But as a child, I didn’t understand any of that.

I only knew that I was looking for something I couldn’t find at home.

Comfort.

Someone to say, You’re safe.

Someone to hold me when I was afraid.

Someone to help me understand that I was okay.

Every child has the right to feel safe and loved.

I needed that.

And perhaps I’ve been searching for that comfort, in one form or another, all my life.

Now I wonder about the pain I carry in my body.

Could some part of this pain be connected to a little girl who spent so much of her life without the comfort she needed?

I don’t know.

But I’m willing to listen.

Time to Release

 I’ve probably carried sorrow in my gut since I was a young girl.

But what was the sorrow?

Perhaps it was the sorrow of a child who wanted nothing more than to please her family.

A little girl who wanted to be loved.

To feel safe.

To know she was okay.

But instead of kind words, she heard words that felt threatening.

Words that shook her sense of safety to her core.

Maybe that little girl learned to carry her sorrow quietly.

And perhaps it’s time to tell her:

You don’t have to carry it anymore.

It was never yours to carry.

Maybe now, with love and compassion, we can begin to let it go.

Worthiness

 It’s becoming clearer and clearer to me how the messages of guilt, shame, and blame may have shaped the way I’ve seen myself, my body, and what I feel I deserve.

I’ve done tons of work on myself.

And can honestly say that I love myself today.

But I also can feel that there is still a part of me holding tightly to the pain.

My little girl is deeply afraid of going against what my parents believed.

To her, their beliefs were the truth.

And letting go of them can feel frightening—almost like she is doing something wrong.

But there is a woman here now who knows something that little girl could never have known.

Much of what was projected onto me came from my parents—their own pain, shame, and beliefs about themselves.

I was a child.

I absorbed their messages as truth.

Now it is my turn to gently help that little girl see that she has a choice.

She can still let go of beliefs that were never hers to carry.

I will love her through that fear.

I will support her.

And little by little, we can discover what she believes about herself when she is no longer living by someone else’s rules.

Am I Still Carrying Old Guilt?

 Even though I’ve done an honest inventory on myself several times, that doesn’t necessarily mean I’ve completely let go of every mistake I’ve made.

I’ve spent years learning to forgive myself and others.

And yet, I find myself wondering:

Have I completely forgiven myself?

I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, especially when I was younger.

Poor choices that hurt me.

And choices that hurt other people.

As I live with this pain in my body, I sometimes wonder what it might be inviting me to look at.

Is there something I’m still holding onto unconsciously?

To be honest, I’ve turned over a lot of stones.

I’ve been willing to look at everything.

But perhaps there is still a part of me holding on.

I don’t need to know exactly what it is.

Maybe I can simply be willing to let go of whatever guilt, shame, or regret I may still be carrying.

Not because I was perfect.

But because I’ve spent enough years punishing myself for being human.

Perhaps it’s time to put the past down.

And let myself be free to move forward.

New Beginnings

 It seems I’m moving back in a direction I haven’t been in for about fifty-five years.

I recently colored my hair back to its original color.

I had been blonde since I was fourteen.

But not anymore.

And somehow, it feels symbolic.

There have been other changes, too.

My weight has fluctuated quite a bit. I lost thirty pounds while eating a very restrictive diet because of my bladder issues. Before that, I had reached a size I had never been before.

But today, I stepped on the scale and realized I’m back to the weight that was once my original weight.

I find myself wondering about all of this.

Maybe this isn’t about going backward.

Maybe it’s about coming back to something more natural.

Something simpler.

Something that feels more like me.

I don’t know exactly what this new beginning will look like.

But I’m curious about the woman who is emerging.

And for the first time in a long time, I’m not trying to make her into anything.

I’m just watching her become.

When I look in the mirror, I see my authentic self. 

Probably the person I was trying to get away from for many years, but now it feels like home.

Saying Goodbye to the Past

 After spending more than thirty years examining my life, including my childhood, I think it’s time to gently close the door.

I have looked at so much.

I have given love and attention to the places that needed it.

There may not be anything more I need to seek.

Perhaps the seeker in me is retiring.

Not because there is nothing left to learn, but because I no longer feel the need to keep searching for something that will explain everything or make everything better.

My attention is shifting from the past to the present.

Learning to notice what is here, receive what is here, and let today be enough.

I can honor the past without continuing to live there.

I can love the little girl without needing to keep searching for all the answers.

And perhaps I can simply turn toward what is in front of me.

Not knowing exactly what comes next.

Just being willing to meet it when it arrives.