I Used to Believe…

I Used to Believe…

In Soul by Melani Marx

I used to believe that I was unlovable. I was unimportant and that what I did didn’t matter much. That at the most basic level I was flawed and wrong. Ugly. Untalented. Stupid. I believed I was too big, too loud and just plain – too much.

I believed I needed to figure out how to be loveable, worthy, smart. Enough. That I had to take care of everyone else to earn my place in the world. That I better find some way to fix myself. Right now! That I had to work harder than anyone else to get any crumbs from the table.

I also believed that I was profoundly alone in all of this.

These are constructs that for a very long time I was not even aware were interwoven into my moment by moment experience of life. That they colored every thought, every encounter, every perception. That they were the ground I walked on – the foundation of every choice and decision I made in my life. Unseen. Unclaimed.

At the point when I began to have some inkling of this underlying “truth” or what I thought was the truth but was actually anything but – I wouldn’t dare admit any of this to anyone. Even admitting it to myself made me squirmy beyond belief. Now I had something else to hide.

Eventually I began to see that because of this foundation I was always acting from a stance rooted in fear. Fear of being found out. Fear of not having enough…love, money, security. Fear of never being wanted. Fear of being seen. Fear that I would never do what I came here to do. Fear of rejection. Fear of telling the truth – acting on my truth. Fear of failing and fear of succeeding. A whole enormous constellation of frozenness and fear.

Now I know…

These stories that ran under the surface for so many decades? None of them were my fault. They began before I was even born.

They were passed on through my mother, her mother and down the line of my ancient grandmothers interwoven in the strands of my DNA – along with the color of my hair, the birthmark on my right hip, the dimple on the left side of my mouth, my love of order and beauty and the musical quality of my voice. It was gifted to me through my father’s DNA and his ancestry of fleeing the homeland, wars, struggles, conflict. All of this was sent downstream to reside in my own DNA along with the color of my eyes, the build of my body, a generosity of spirit, an entrepreneurial bent and the curve in my spine.

These patterns, stories and beliefs were then reinforced by my parents, my siblings, school, church, the culture at large and others. They were fed by the way I was mothered. Fathered. The toxic soup of family. The way the nuns responded to me and situations where they felt the need to exercise complete control – because they were afraid.

I do not feel like a victim. I know now that these are all the result of a long history of suppression and turning away from the brilliance and perfection that every human on this planet intrinsically is. A culture of fear. A culture of hiding. A culture of repression.

I am not alone. I am not unique. My story might also be your story.

Today is my birthday. I am well into my fifth decade and I am beyond grateful to be able to know with every fiber of my being that all of that was and is a lie.

A total and complete falsehood.

I know this not just with my mind, I also know this in my belly, my heart, my hands and feet. I am embodying this knowing more fully with every day that passes.

I no longer feel the need to prove anything to anyone – even myself.

I am not worried if you know that I am a flawed human. I know you are human too.

I don’t mind if you don’t like me.

It’s ok if you disagree with me.

What you or anyone thinks of me cannot change who I am and what I know is true.
 

I am love.

I am loved. I love.

I am always enough – even on the days when I am not at my shiny best.

I make a difference in the lives of many and they in turn in the lives of many others.

I am not alone. I am infinitely supported.

I am beautiful – inside and out.

These are not just words on paper. This a song, a harmonic rush and rhythm that flows through my veins, sparks along synapsis and radiates out into everything I touch.

This was not a simple journey. It was not easy.

It has been a vast unwinding.

It is the work of a lifetime.

I am certain I am not done yet… Because I am still here.

Celebrating. Radiating. Living my own Wholeness.

I am.

Grateful beyond measure.
I want you to have this too.

May your own unfolding be blessed with Grace, Support, Hope and Love. Always.