Healing Comes in Unexpected Packages

How vulnerable do I give myself permission to be? That was the question that opened the floodgates. I was on my ½ hour-scheduled call with my coach, and I was discussing my next steps around putting myself out there to deliver value to my clients, and the subject of perfectionism came up in the last 15 minutes of our call.

I’ll be 38 in January and never once have I allowed myself to be anything less than capable. I strive for excellence in everything I do. If at first, you don’t succeed, try, try again has been an unwritten rule I’ve lived by, and it’s clearly seen in my work product. Anyone who’s worked with me expects no less than the best possible outcome on any product or project I work on.

For the past year, I’ve been confounded by why I haven’t been able to get my coaching business off the ground. I’ve gone through countless training programs, acquired an amazing amount of knowledge, and have ample personal experience to support why I’m good enough to help people gain self-awareness, heal from trauma, and create healthy intimate relationships, yet something was holding me back.

In speaking with my coach today, it began to dawn on me that I’d assigned a different meaning to my ability to succeed intellectually than emotionally. Success in connecting emotionally, aka, in being vulnerable, was alien to me, and so I protected myself by building a sky-high fortress against attack. Questions like “How would I be seen if this didn’t work out?” and “How would I feel about myself?” and “What would I make that mean about me?” sprung to mind, and that’s when through all my mind chatter, I heard my coach ask “How vulnerable do you give yourself permission to be?”.

All the air suddenly left my body in a sigh of relief and unburdening. I’m still vibrating from the realization that no one had placed any expectations on me and that it was all me, and all I needed to do was let go and allow and give myself permission to be vulnerable. I’m stronger than the seven-year-old little girl who couldn’t fight off her rapist. I’m stronger than the nine-year-old little girl who desperately needed love and attention and couldn’t say no to her molester. I’m stronger than the fourteen-year-old child who ran from her attacker, believing that in order to survive, she had to be closed off and watchful, untrusting, and afraid.

I built my fortress to shield and protect me, but it became my prison, disconnecting me from my essence, a loving, giving, compassionate being, and distancing me from experiencing true connection with other loving beings. I believe I stepped outside my prison at that moment, and in doing so, the floodgates of pent-up sadness, isolation, and the burden of unnecessary expectations were opened up and released.

I am a wise and strong woman. I gently and tenderly care for my wounded inner child. I am freedom expressed. In my vulnerability, I find my voice and my strength. I am love calling out to you who are wounded, living in the world in isolation, desperately seeking love, validation, and security from others, telling you that joy and peace can be had from within.

Wonderful things can happen when someone holds space for you to safely step outside your self-constructed emotional prison. I will hold space for you.