I still find it hard to open up the memory of the full scale realization – too nefarious to taint the beautiful word “epiphany” – of the reality that was the aftermath of my younger self’s unplanned search to belong. See, in my case, not only was it unplanned, I didn’t even realize that’s what I was doing. Not a clue. See, I come from a huge family, I’m the second youngest of 10, so I disqualified myself from the right to the human instinct that is the search to belong. I thought I belonged. Duh. But my subconscious wasn’t fooled by my conscious “knowing” that I belonged to my family, so even though my conscious mind rejected the suggestion, my sneaky subconscious found ways to get its way and embark on a search that I wasn’t consciously part of.
Sadly, what my subconscious didn’t realize or allow for was the fact that any learning done during its secret missions was erroneously classified due to misinterpretation by its conscious counterpart, and therefore no learning was actually logged. So I made mistake after mistake without learning why I had made said mistake because I was unaware of the underlying quest and its goal, and to top it off, I never would have guessed it had anything to do with belonging because, remember, I assumed I had belonging covered.
I spent most of my life trying so hard to belong and even harder not to let on that I was trying to belong. I was so busy not knowing what I was doing or why that I lost any concept of who I really was and what I really wanted. In retrospect, I’m surprised it took me so long to crack. But that’s what happened last year. All the pressure of all the illusions I had surrounded myself with suddenly clashed and then slammed head-on into my realities in an almost poetic domino effect that left me sitting in a pool of my own tears with jagged shards of reflections of things I thought defined me scattered and floating, disconnected to each other, just as they were disconnected to me.
And there, in the middle of it all, half submerged, battered and barely beating as it struggled to stop the clouds of its essence from their watery escape, there was what was left of my heart. The once strong and vibrant and magnanimously welcoming cornerstone of my being was pitifully perched in a place where it was easy pickings for any of the vicious vultures that looked to further the damage with their whispers of “you were never good enough,” “now they’ll all know that you’re a fraud,””you’ve never been special and you never will be,” and the meanest of all, “how could you think you were ever more than nothing.”
I don’t know if everyone goes through this kind of shake up, but I sincerely, with every part of my being, hope it’s not a necessary rite of passage for everyone because it is, singularly and significantly, the worst barrage of feelings that I hope to never feel again.
But the night is always darkest before the dawn, and as it is in the way of the Tarot, this shake down being a textbook example of The Tower, after a long night, a dark night, I found The Star inside.
I’m still healing and there are days when I feel like I’m back in that vulture infested scene, but I’m much better at remembering to hold on to the light of my faith and to be courageous – well, courageous enough, to look for the lesson I needed to learn or needed to be part of the learning of for someone else. It isn’t easy and it’s rarely ever pretty while in process, but the rainbow afterward is exquisite and makes it worth it in that moment. And it marks my continued progress and it is proof that I am on the right path to who I’ve always been meant to be…me. Although I still don’t know who that is or where she’s headed exactly, I know that whoever and wherever that is, it’s my truth and it has and will set me free.