Vulnerability: “When Gods come down”

There’s nothing quite like a good story. Personal story. Authentic story. A story people can relate to. Let me tell you about the real reason why i so rarely speak about my past, the pain, wounding and trauma in public.

First and foremost it’s because i no longer identify with my trauma. I not longer identify with my experiences. They are not anyhow a reference to who i am, nor what i am as a being. Even though every life is a beautiful hero’s journey, that in fact contains many stories — and I, alike everyone else could tell you so many, and there are events relevant and deeply moving, I’m still here to tell you that I am not my story and neither are you — yours.

Once you heal and tune into your Higher Self, your perception significantly changes, and things acquire different meaning from what they once were. Either way, even a Higher Perspective can evolve as you progress.

I am a clean slate.

I no longer have the need to connect with people through trauma, through wounding or complaining, I am not here to glorify myself as the one victoriously overcoming these challenges, and most certainly it is not a way for you to know me, the real me, the me as i am in this very moment, as i will no longer exist as such — few instants from now. I am forever changing and so are you.

Will we ever know each other? Will we be able to, or will we simply exchange our experiences as we would do, with telling each other about movies we’ve once seen? What would be the difference?

Then why is sharing our stories so important? If only the story could remain only a story instead of becoming a reference to our entire identity. People tend to merge with their pain, their shame, their ideas of what the experience meant. At times this feels like drowning and grasping for air.

I don’t speak about these things with people not because I don’t want them to see it in me, but because it’s not what I see myself to be. I feared judgement once before. Many times, in fact. But it’s amazing how the mirror turns upside down, since it’s precisely in those times that I acted as if I didn’t care about others opinions, or misbehaved in a way that would push people away — when what I really wanted was to be accepted. Talking about all the things that were “wrong” about me, was like a dare, a challenge for their ability to love me, but only to reaffirm my limiting beliefs about love, when my behaviour would finally be repelling.

I was at war with reality.

Internally I wanted to “rise above” my own insecurities, and all of them were right there,where other people mattered. Their opinions mattered. Their approval mattered. But acting like I didn’t care, was a way of shutting the world out, a way of rejection to avoid being rejected myself. While i thought other people knew nothing about me, it was me who refused to open my heart just enough to see them for who they were. Someone once told me I talked down to others, and now when I think of it, perhaps there was some truth to that — but even if I was, I was just trying to be perfect to earn their approval. Ironic, isn’t it? Being perfect, is effing exhausting and what I was really yearning for, was a genuine connection. I just couldn’t allow myself to have that. I didn’t know how.

My pain would scream out for acceptance, until I’ve learned to embrace it, to accept it and honour it. It was that very exact moment when I no longer had to be ashamed of what’s happened to me, and I was ashamed because it’s what I thought I was , — until i allowed the pain to became a part of me, my missing piece, and it ceased being a reference to who I am. Or at least, it became a different kind of reference, because all the while I thought it was making me less, it was actually making me more.

But I would never reveal anything about myself, not really. I never would allow for people to get close. And so as I was putting on a show for the world, about how strong I was, how rebellious and mischievous and untouchable, no one really knew how I was feeling inside. And perhaps, I didn’t either. It’s difficult to receive help and support if you don’t know exactly what to ask for. If you don’t know what you’re really struggling with. And so while you’re drowning, you’re caught in this fishnet, entangled and tongue tied. Your voice becomes another layer of noise in the crowd.

Your voice is powerful.

Even in those passing moments, even if only with few chosen people our stories long to be heard. The comfort of a safe space, in which we are able to experience ourselves without restriction, is a place where miracles happen. Miracle of Grace and Life. We build connections with the acceptance of our humanity. We reconnect with those important parts of ourselves, and in that way also with others. Vulnerability is where we allow ourselves to admit that we need other people, and allow ourselves to be needed and accepted. It’s where we allow ourselves to be seen.

Coming down to earth can be equally a blessing as rising above. Coming down for warmth and comfort, rather than sitting on a cloud where nothing ever touches us, so far away from warmth of human embrace. Our stories serve to open up our hearts and minds and they become gateways to a different kind of world, a world in which we aren’t as alone.

Let us meet on the other side of prejudice.

Let us give each other a chance.

You know that your Higher Self really has no objection to that. Come down from the cloud so that we can be loved.