Pieces of Healing
My love didn’t protect me
from shrinking
It didn't stop fear
from whispering in my ear
all my love did
was protect me
from the guilt of shrinking
My love held no condemnation
as I felt adrift in my mind
It offered no shame
as I hid in the safety of my fears
There was no voice screaming
that I needed to try harder
No eyes full of scorn
telling me I was wrong
My love didn't protect me from shrinking
but it comforted me while I was small
I had a conversation with myself recently, as one does, and I realized that I had made myself small. I noticed a shadow in the garden, and instead of running from it, I stepped into it. What I found, was what most shadows carry… fear. The fears it carried weren’t unknown, they were so familiar to me, that it took a few days to realize I was surrounded.
I used to think that “shadow work” meant digging up all of my trauma and forcing myself to “deal with it”. My journey has shown me that it’s not about digging things up with raw bleeding hands hoping to find healing — It’s remembering who I am and reminding myself of that in the face of shadows.
The fears I’m illuminating with this post, are ones that say it’s not safe for me to be seen. They tell stories about worthlessness and doubt that I was told many times in my youth. A story we all know, it’s as infamous as The Bible, with endless volumes and variations. This shadow wasn’t an unknow monster, it was an old friend.
Something I’ve learned about shadows, is that they struggle with change. They have stood sentinel as protectors from the unknown for generations, and the fear they carry ripples when illuminated. Their fear turns to panic, and they grip tighter, asking if you are sure it’s safe to let go.
That’s the power of remembering your truth; of loving yourself into loving yourself. Once you know what your love feels like, the shadows learn what it feels like too, and they begin to quiet and stop demanding your attention and start asking for it instead.
This shadow didn’t arrive with aggression, it softly tapped on my shoulder and said, “Hey, I’m still here.” Giving me the chance to find its center and shine a light on it.
So, I’m considering this my flashlight. A vulnerable offering of something I feel is intimate and revealing. I don’t share my body online, even my arms; and while you don’t see much of them, the nerves are still there. It’s not because I hate my body, but because the fear in this shadow is trying to protect me from perceptions that exist in the unknown. I know they are imagined, and none of my business; but this is how I teach my ego safety. You can’t really know if it’s safe outside if you never leave the room.
This is a video of me working on my latest painting. I don’t plan out anything when I pick up a brush. I start with a color, and let the image reveal itself to me along the way. Music is a must; it helps keep the creative juices flowing.
You can also hear the soundtrack of my day: Clothes being washed, dishes being cleaned, children playing games. I tend to hum and sing along with the music from as well. I don’t have playlists selected; I just start with whatever song comes to mind when I sit down and let YouTube take it from there. I was about eight songs in before I decided to pull out my phone and hit record.
This is me, taking up space, to prove to my shadows that it’s safe for me to exist out loud in ways that feel scary. Reminding myself, that it’s okay to let go.
