I recently had a Sacred Intimate session where I explored my first grade experience of kissing my best friend, another boy, on the lips. I've been working with it for a while. This time, I was focusing on expressing the anger I felt at the impact the class's response had on my life. I learned not to trust myself and began to hide who I was.
In the session, I had a realization that was new. I realized that the reaction of the other children had nothing to do with me. They were the ones with an idea about how things were supposed to be that wasn't accurate, not me. Their parents and the culture they lived in taught them something that wasn't true for me, and to lash out. It was their learned behavior. It wasn't about me. It was never about me. My anger went away. I realized the other kids weren't attacking me. It was all the story they were telling themselves about how the world was. They were limited at that early age in their ability to grow. They were damaged to want to damage me.
Yes, they were dicks, but it doesn't change who I am. I'm curious how that insight will trickle through my time-line. Every time I reacted to someone's judgment, it wasn't necessary. I was always OK. When I'm told I'm Popeye because my arms look dysmorphicly skinny, it's not about me. My arms are fine. I'm not skinny. I'm perfect. I don't have to react anymore.
The one insight ripples through all the self-esteem related wounds of my life. I'm OK. I was always OK. It was all in their heads to think I was anything less than a perfect open-hearted loving child.
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