Be Brave Series
I had a dream and I knew in my knower that this was the next blog to write in my “Be Brave” series.
Dream
There once was a chubby little girl. She had a mother and father who appeared to love her as the rest of her family. They were all in a living room laughing and talking. Prior to this scene of the dream, I spoke with the mother about her little girl’s weight. I said to her, “She eats to insulate the pain.” Her mother didn’t believe me.
The little girl had on a pair of capri pants and hi-top Converses but she wore a trench coat to cover her upper chubby body. A man was sitting next to me on the couch. I don’t know why I didn’t care for him. The little girl, like little children do when adults are around, was walking like a runway model in front of the adults wanting to be seen. The father said something about her weight. Immediately I said looking at the father, “She’s going to have a small waist and oh the butt.” The man next to me said, “Naw.” I changed my mind. I knew I didn’t like him. He had that pedophile glare that made me want to punch him.
The mother looked over at me and said, “I’m sorry I didn’t believe what you said to me.” I replied, “It’s okay.” I woke up.
Transparency – Let’s Share
The little girl knew she looked different. How? Someone close to her that she loved unconditionally compared her to her smaller peers. Since her family uncovered and left her unprotected this prompted the little girl to wear a covering of her own choice to hide her body. With each toxic word launched her little soul designed a line of clothes called, “I’m not good enough.” This line of clothes would produce other brands of pain and shame, i.e., not worthy, unloved, self-hatred, unnatural fear of people, etc.
The adults thought that if they shamed her when she ate any type of food she would stop eating and lose weight. They were wrong. She became afraid of food peroidt. It didn’t matter what the food was she feared it. Food to her had no taste. It was a substance she knew her body needed. That was all. Who was getting gloriously fed? The unaddressed pain and shame. The toxic words in her soul took her fear of food and all the other toxic brand of clothing and gorged itself to no end.
Walk Away from Trauma
This is my story of rejection and abandonment that praying, journaling, counseling and self-affirming daily has been most of my adult life. But I know I’m not alone. You may have a similar story or another area in your life that you were devastatingly ridiculed and traumatized by. Not fully showing up in the present because the past has been so hard to let go of. But little bit by little bit you’ve been eating down the elephant with a teaspoon and now you’re at a place where you know it’s time to come out of the crawlspace and be seen. I know. It is scarier coming out than hiding, but it’s your time.
You have choices and options on how and when you do it. You can come out at your own pace and space. You can either rip the band-aid off or slowly remove it, creating each moment. I can’t say it won’t pinch your insides but better that than the pain of regret. What matters is that you do it. You’ve prepared for this moment.
Take the first step and feel your feelings. Don’t back up. Just stand there and allow yourself to feel your emotions. Your thoughts will be all over the place. Let them run around and don’t over analyze them. They will tire and leave if you stand still and wait for that small voice to speak and guide you. That voice will walk with you through every place, person, and event you will attend. The Voice will send Simplicity and Ease to combat Fear. As you continue to be seen Courage will replace Fear. Being nervous is expected going into new territory – keep going. You deserve to be seen and participate in your life, your purpose. Believe it or not there are other huemans out there waiting on you to see and hear your story. Your story will allow them to remove their toxic clothing and to know it’s possible to do so. Why? Because they will know they are not alone.
C’mon Breathe, Be Brave, Be Seen.
Lana