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"Just get it out!"
"Just get it out!"
Some wounds aren't meant to be healed. They're meant to help you find a more individualized way of identifying with them, a more personalized way of understanding and expressing them. For me the wound of communication has always been a part of my world. From the constant inner split between wanting to share ideas and also fearing they’ll be misunderstood or dismissed. Or starting something with enthusiasm just to be crippled by the emotional weight of what I may sound like or come across as. Or how about just the raw terror of hearing myself mispronounce specific words. Any and all things related to communication is a rough patch I always rub up against when making decisions. Am I using the right words? Am I hearing correctly what is being communicated? Am I translating what I'm thinking clearly enough for others to understand? I mean right now.. as I'm typing this I'm quietly wondering if how I sound is okay. It's never ending, and for a long time I've tried to ignore that it was silently controlling my choices and actions.
Some wounds aren't meant to be healed. They're meant to help you find a more individualized way of identifying with them, a more personalized way of understanding and expressing them. For me the wound of communication has always been a part of my world. From the constant inner split between wanting to share ideas and also fearing they’ll be misunderstood or dismissed. Or starting something with enthusiasm just to be crippled by the emotional weight of what I may sound like or come across as. Or how about just the raw terror of hearing myself mispronounce specific words. Any and all things related to communication is a rough patch I always rub up against when making decisions. Am I using the right words? Am I hearing correctly what is being communicated? Am I translating what I'm thinking clearly enough for others to understand? I mean right now.. as I'm typing this I'm quietly wondering if how I sound is okay. It's never ending, and for a long time I've tried to ignore that it was silently controlling my choices and actions.
The "gag is" this same wounding has also gifted me with abilities that have always made communication naturally easy for me. Like my ability to talk to anyone about anything. I remember I went to my mothers job-I had to be around 4 or 5 years old. I remember purposely getting lost just to walk around and greet people in their cubicles. I knew that I followed the rules and stayed near my mother exploring and meeting new people was out of the question. I wasn't afraid, I was actually excited to meet new people, to see new faces to explore away from the group. Or in grammar school when my 5th grade teacher Ms. Bennett recommended I join the schools oratory team. Performing on stage was a bit scary at first but once I became one with the poem "I became one with the poem" so expressing it, and merging with the feelings that were evoked through learning and understanding the poem became who I was while reciting it. Or my quick-witted ability to translate complex things and feelings into metaphors or a joke to make something easier for understanding. That's my strength.
The "gag is" this same wounding has also gifted me with abilities that have always made communication naturally easy for me. Like my ability to talk to anyone about anything. I remember I went to my mothers job-I had to be around 4 or 5 years old. I remember purposely getting lost just to walk around and greet people in their cubicles. I knew that I followed the rules and stayed near my mother exploring and meeting new people was out of the question. I wasn't afraid, I was actually excited to meet new people, to see new faces to explore away from the group. Or in grammar school when my 5th grade teacher Ms. Bennett recommended I join the schools oratory team. Performing on stage was a bit scary at first but once I became one with the poem "I became one with the poem" so expressing it, and merging with the feelings that were evoked through learning and understanding the poem became who I was while reciting it. Or my quick-witted ability to translate complex things and feelings into metaphors or a joke to make something easier for understanding. That's my strength.
Life's reoccurring cul-de-sax moments always seemed to bring me back to the same dead end of me attempting to place blinders on seeing the natural beauty of my wounding. For so long it seemed like the fear of being perceived a certain way blanketed my ease of communication. My quiet uncertainty of if I was clearly getting my point across, duck tapped my mouth completely for so long. Overtime silence became a cage which invited experiences and people that attempted to promote.. more silence. Experiences that were forcing me to start viewing my perceived weaknesses from more than the angle I've always viewed them from. In those moments the only thing I was able to identify with was my voice, was the way I communicated, was my truth. And from there the seeds were being planted. Seeds that had a funny way of growing the confidence of what has always come natural. Self expression through communication.
Life's reoccurring cul-de-sax moments always seemed to bring me back to the same dead end of me attempting to place blinders on seeing the natural beauty of my wounding. For so long it seemed like the fear of being perceived a certain way blanketed my ease of communication. My quiet uncertainty of if I was clearly getting my point across, duck tapped my mouth completely for so long. Overtime silence became a cage which invited experiences and people that attempted to promote.. more silence. Experiences that were forcing me to start viewing my perceived weaknesses from more than the angle I've always viewed them from. In those moments the only thing I was able to identify with was my voice, was the way I communicated, was my truth. And from there the seeds were being planted. Seeds that had a funny way of growing the confidence of what has always come natural. Self expression through communication.
There was no way out only through. Trust me! I've tried every nook, crack, and side road I thought was available. Of course I always guided back to my roots, back to my core, speaking and writing. Reconnecting me with my gift again. Myself. Communication. It seems like the disconnections (the blinders) that form when we get too caught up on what's going on outside of us and lose sight of the beauty of our internal anchors is the very thing that forces us back to ourselves. The loudest noises that won't go away are asking us to quiet down and just listen. For me the quiet always whispered "Just get it out."
There was no way out only through. Trust me! I've tried every nook, crack, and side road I thought was available. Of course I always guided back to my roots, back to my core, speaking and writing. Reconnecting me with my gift again. Myself. Communication. It seems like the disconnections (the blinders) that form when we get too caught up on what's going on outside of us and lose sight of the beauty of our internal anchors is the very thing that forces us back to ourselves. The loudest noises that won't go away are asking us to quiet down and just listen. For me the quiet always whispered "Just get it out."
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