After a lifetime of being told what we are not (according to other people, that is), it is not so far-fetched a self-belief that after many years of people correcting us, telling us that we are wrong, bad, etc., that we might have a hard time believing we are everything that we each, even quietly, know we are
Perhaps it is due to the idea that if anyone at all has been given nothing but negatively charged attention for the majority of our lives that we, collectively, seem to have a problem with believing that we are everything that we believe ourselves to be. This is not saying that when we looked in the mirror and told ourselves that we are “one baaaaaaaaad mamma-jamma” that we were indeed just one such sort of mamma-jamma. It might have been that at one time in our lives we were very good at thinking and believing one thing that causes us to feel badly about who we are at this point and in comparison to what we believed we were back then.
Let me tell you something about who you thought you were back then – that is not you anymore. Don’t trip, though, because the reason that the person who you recall being back then, really, truly, is NOT as awesome as the person who you are evolving to be. Think about it in terms of your way of thinking now as opposed to the way that you thought about you and what you do for your living back then, when it was that your paycheck and your things and everything but the real you did the conveying of soul messages for you. What you were doing then was setting you up to deal with becoming who you are now. Who you are now is priming you for the person who you are now evolving to be.
I Promise that the person you are evolving to be is so many more times WAY more rockin’ than the person who was merely the egotistical manifestation of who, on the outside, you want the world to see you as. Seriously. Having the stable job that you hated was actually killing you from the very middle core of you. It was an ache that you had, because you could see, physically, what it was that you thought you were – and what you thought you were was all of your cool stuff. There was a time in our lives when we all allowed our inanimate objects be what spoke for us. Recall being able to say “yeah? I don’t see YOUR big bad ass house, ” and of course, “You are SO cool with your late-model douche-mobile…I will have to remember that as I speed up the 15 to Vegas in my SOHC motor Mustang and as I pass you by and wave…”
You were never your things. You allowed your things, much like I allowed my things, to do the ego’s talking for you. Having all those things is quite lovely, really. I won’t lie and tell anyone that I did not like having a big home, or a few nice cars, or anything at all that sounds like I somehow hated having the means as well as the arrogance and the ego to effectively be all the chick version of the Overlord of Doucheland I cared to pretend being. What else I will not lie to anyone about is that I do indeed miss my ability to have those kinds of things. Trying to rationalize away the thought in my head that is the constant droning of “I told you so, moron” nasty self-talk did not and still does not work for me. I am sure that it might not even work for you, either. Horribly hateful self-talk is not good for us.
Of late, that self-hatred rhetoric is gone. We each already have enough haters as is. Why bother continuing being one of them?
Self-Hatred is learned and is not inborn
I will just get to the point – we are taught hatred. I know this one, quite well. I had a lot of help while growing up learning about what other people thought was not okay about me. What we adults are very good at is believing that since it is that we talk to other people who are not our kids as though said other people are beneath us that since they are our kids, they will just understand that that is how we are. We tend to bring that same kind of energy to them when we are upset with them or when we want to know the truth and their truth is not what WE want. We speak to these children of ours as though they are ranked in the same way that other adults are.
We do not think about the things that we say that our kids hear that are not great about other adults. When we get mad at them, we are more prone to place ourselves in a place that is “top dog” and “better than you” when we are speaking to these people who, no matter what, spend THEIR lives listening to what we have to say. When they screw up, rather than our doing like we swore we would (which is to listen without judging their decisions, or their goals- even the really, really bad ones) and like we wished our own parents would, we end up turning them into these awful humans, turning ourselves into God in a human body.
We actually believe, too, that being shitty to them somehow is going to drive home the message that we know they are better at making choices, not only about what they do on a daily basis, but about the things that they know they are capable of. We believe that our unwanted advice, and more, our ability (read “habit of”) making them feel like they are useless because they don’t do like we want them to in terms of doing their life THEIR way. I write from experience. I know what it is like to feel like you have to do things someone else’s way in order for it to be right. I know what it is to feel like no matter what other adults told you that you totally were all you thought you were, that the ones who you spend the most time with are right about you, about your abilities and what it is that you do with those abilities.
There is nothing more crippling than to have to hear, over and over again, that what you heard was not just criticism, but “constructive” criticism (crock of crap). I am sorry, but there really is nothing constructive about criticizing people. Criticizing anyone, for anything, without a valid reason other than the one that anyone doing said criticizing would think would be (you know…like a person wants to literally kill someone else and watch them die? Yeah…I would say that anything where hurting someone else is involved WOULD be a reason to be critical, let alone constructively).
The phrase I recall the most is “constructive criticism.” It was applied to everything that I did, by not only one person, but many. I cannot speak for other people, but the length of time it took me to get to this point in my own thoughts about who I am and what I am all about was long, painful and had to be done all on my own. That is the thing about hurting people – it is easy to be victimized, but we have to earn being a survivor.
Yes, earn it.
That which we earn on our own…
That which we earn on our own is also that which no one else can do for us. This is the part of the writing that I love the very most, because this is where I tell you all that you are loved, so very dearly, by the Grand Universe and all that She has to offer all of us. You were created in the image of perfection, which really is imperfection. You were brought to this lifetime to do great things with all that you are, all that you have learned and earned, and all that you have gone through. Without having gone through all of the pain that you went through, you would not now be sitting and reading what I, a stranger, has to say about you, also a perfect stranger.
You are perfect, even if you are perfectly strange. You were given certain abilities, and you have many different talents, some of them that you do not even realize are there. You don’t realize that they are there yet because you have not yet gone through what you need to in order to learn that it lives in you. You will know it when it happens. I did. I knew that my life would not be what it is meant to be if I were not able to sit here, almost daily, writing about these things and giving to you all the messages from the Divine that remind us all just exactly how damned well rockin’ and bad ass that we all truly and really are.
There is really not anyone else alive at this time that does what you do in the manner that you do it. That is what makes it and you so danged special. Think about all the times that you heard that without you, certain things would not have happened when they did. What, did you think it was luck or maybe coincidence? There is no such thing as coincidence, and luck is relative to what it is that any one of us is willing to believe about who we are. It took me a long, long time, not only to learn to write (and really, it is not easy to do…namely in a conversational manner…it took me a lot of time to have a conversation with you like this), but also to take what I knew that was also mine – hula (started when I was 3…I will be 44 this March. That is a long time to doing anything, really, and still maintain big love for it) and turn it into something that would always change.
In my case, it went from being the student, to being the helper, to being the Kumu with her own digs, to being the solitary dancer (because hula is my medicine dance). Then, finally, which is anything BUT final- to this moment where I am now figuring out how to take it from being my own medicine as well as that of a few dozen domestic violence survivors and making it, once again, something not only healing, but something that can be enjoyed by a whole lot more than only this Hula teacher.
If I continued to believe all what I was told, everything that hurt and all that which caused me, at one time, to actually think I wanted to die…well, I might not be sitting here, writing this, whilst thinking about Hula. I survived.
You can, too.
The point here and all these things that I have just written about are the things that have the ability to bring someone who is down on themselves to the heights of their own successes. Success is not measurable by much else than the elation that one feels when they are doing what it is that they know, without a doubt and without any thought that what was said of them by anyone and that was hurtful in any way at all (unless they needed to hear it…but that is for a later blog) that you, me, anyone knows they are not only meant to be doing, but are really supposed to be doing.
If I listened to everyone who told me that they had little, if any, faith in me and in my own thoughts about myself, I would never have dared open my hula halau – I would have been too damned scared that it would have failed, namely because it was in a place where more traditional dances were accepted. If I listened to the people who told me that I would never make it in life as a writer (because I chose to write about beliefs and truth and everything that is weirdly energetic and NOT romance novels) I might be writing for the newspaper or something totally not what I am meant to be and supposed to be doing.
If I chose to follow the path that was set for me by other people, I can tell you that I might not be sitting here, broke as hell, but at the same time, very loved, very well accepted as who I am for real, and not very inclined to choose profit over passion. If I chose to be what I was told I was, I would not be here telling you all these things, because the likelihood of my being anything OTHER than Rox would have made me want to end my own life.
That ain’t happenin’…ever, ever again.
Humans…think, truly, dearly and always, that you are every bit as worth the very time it takes for you to make yourselves believe this. I mean, for years all of us made other people feel like they were loved, that they were worthy, that they had something to offer the world, and we did not think that maybe we could offer some of that love to ourselves.
Love YOU, because nothing in your own world happens with you not in it the way that you are supposed to be in it.
I LOVE YOU ALL !
This is my favorite piece in the Randy Jay Braun gallery.
It is called “Maika’i ka ‘Oiwi o ka ‘ala”