While I am caught up in the excitement (and relief!) of my re-found appetite for creating a new life for myself, I notice how easy it is for me to want to pull myself back to the old energy, even if it is simply to reflect upon how much I have not fully participated in life. Since returning to Australia five and a half years ago (after a thirteen-year absence), I have slowly and systematically reduced my involvement in life. In writing this, I intend to be done with re-visiting that contracted energy for good. I have been deceiving myself for quite some time, believing that I have been embracing life – at least to the extent of my capacity. Although I’ve been acutely aware of my limitations – money and health being two major ones – I have kept active and involved by creating and maintaining friendships, studying at university, and working occasionally. Life has always seemed busy and full, and oftentimes, more than I could manage. Feeling overwhelmed and unable to meet deadlines happened often.
It is interesting to notice the part of me that wants to go back to that energy and wallow. Wallowing in the past is the same as taking a step back in time and replacing my energy in that time. And when I return to the present, some fragment of my energy remains behind – and I have less of myself here right now to accomplish what I want to do. What a neat trick of self-sabotage! I had believed I was having a good ole’ chew at what the Universe had served up to me, but yesterday, I had the crushing realisation that I have not been gnawing hungrily at life. But my habit is to judge myself harshly for failing, for making a mistake, and especially, for letting myself down. And when I move into self-judgement, I believe I deserve punishment. Of course I cannot allow such an overt submission to sabotage, so I seduced myself with the insight – because I love to discover something new about myself – that I am a failure and disappointment because I gave an impression of being involved in life. And here’s the kicker – the real reason I feel justified in kicking myself until I bleed – because I gave myself the impression of being involved in life. By the way, that impression of involvement satisfied me in many ways and seemed to fool most of my friends too. Maybe I’ve kept busy being an active participant in their lives! While that is probably true, in the process I’ve convinced myself I have no more capacity for life; and especially, that I have no more time or room for more of me.
Now I can see how this relates to another childhood belief – the story my parents told me that there was no room for me. They offered me very limited parameters of how I was allowed to express myself and constrained me with all sorts of manipulations. They had no room for little Raquel to bring her gifts, her passions, her enthusiasms, her love, her chaos, mistakes, indeed, any part of her into their existence… Ironically, I have clutched onto this story like it was the only true thing that could save me from the pain of this world. I have transported it into my adult life and concretised it as a belief system, even canonised it as faithful gospel. I believed that because my parents had no room for me, life also had no room for me. I generalised my parents’ refusal of my ‘being’ to a conviction that the Universe did not want me. That ‘no room’ for any part of me in their existence meant I could not bring any part of myself into any existence. I change this belief now. I uncreate, delete and destroy any belief that there is no room for me and that I do not deserve to take a place – my place – in this world. There is room for the hugeness of me! After all, it is my world.
I know the Universe has given me the opportunity to uncover this belief many times; this time I am able to acknowledge the energy which pulls me back as being part of me, and give it the understanding, the love and the compassion it has never received…the part of me that has been lying in the shadows, entreating me to love the darkness.