I am becoming more and more aware of the erasure of myself. I’ve spotted a pattern – particularly online and in some social settings. I’ve found a metaphor as footprints in the sand along the shoreline – or a river flowing underground seems to resonate on this for me.
I’m learning about the fear of my own vulnerability – and also learning about discernment, what to share and when to share it.
Guess what, L? Being vulnerable also doesn’t mean you need to overshare. Or share with those you don’t trust.
I learned from Maryam Hasnaa that we can practice how much to open our hearts in different scenarios, which is especially important for highly sensitives.
Sensitive. Being seen. Visibility and invisibility. I have been hiding a lot because of who I am and my position in this world – a 6ft1 white woman casts a large shadow. However, I’m being encouraged to take centre stage in my own life and shine my light – without outshining or overshadowing others. Maybe I can look to a tree that provides shelter for others from the rain? Or maybe it provides a welcome coolness in its shade from the midday heat. I am here to exist and hold space for myself as well as others.
My head feels congested and foggy – my back is aching. I think my mom looks to me to be the emotional support in our fragmented family. I am becoming more and more aware of who she is – what her motives are, what her priorities are, what she shares and keeps covert. Unfortunately, her training as a lawyer and her line of questioning aren’t contained to her work. She has learned to relate to people on an emotional level through a series of misinformed assumptions, leading to interrogating questions, and usually from a stance of having already made up her mind on what is right.
where rivers are born 