Imvisible (I know how to spell it, you'll get it - just read this xxoo) - The Oily Story
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Imvisible (I know how to spell it, you’ll get it – just read this xxoo)

 

Vulnerability is a word that people throw around a lot and I’m not going to pretend to understand the depths of it all yet but I know this.

It’s not easy.

Yesterday my husband and I were in our therapy session and I wanted to talk about my level of vulnerability.

A bit of back story… Not a lot of people know this but we started therapy while we were still in love, before any huge fights started, before any of the stuff that could potentially lead to the big-D. We never wanted that so we were definitely motivated to go and deal with our own back-stories. Look, if you’re in a relationship where you’re communicating so well that he knows you want nachos with extra cheese just by the look you’re giving him and he offers to go get it for you, then aces. If not, therapy might be for you. Because really, no one is a perfect communicator and 90-95% of people have dealt with some kind of trauma and navigating the world wounded is tough, never mind nurturing a successful marriage.

Where was I… right, vulnerability.

I don’t know if people tell you this too but once they really get to know me they’re like “yea, when I first met you I thought you were a proper bitch.” It’s the resting bitch face but really, there’s a wall. But when you’re inside my circle, I’ll go to the end of the earth for you and when I love, I love hard.

So back to yesterday’s session.

The wall was sorta news to me. I thought I was being vulnerable but apparently only with a select few. Well, that’s probably because I had an abusive childhood. That wall grew thick and tall because I couldn’t trust anyone. God forbid should I let you in so you can hurt me.

The more visible I was the worse the beatings got so I stayed quiet. If you don’t see me the safer I am.

Invisible. That was the first aha moment of the session.

Being invisible meant that I was safe but never accepted, loved, welcomed. I didn’t belong.

I didn’t belong anywhere.

Has this been a thing for you too?

Now I know I’m not everyone’s cup of tea. I’ve had to become a strong minded, resilient and independent woman and I really love this about me, but according to our therapist (and friends I’ve talked to) this is intimidating to some people. I still don’t completely understand why me being me means you’re not feeling good about who you are but that’s another therapy session to explore.

But the theme of not fitting in has repeated over and over and some very big awarenesses came to me yesterday.

First, has this ever happened to you (over and over)… you walk into a room full of people that you know and they know you. You say “Hi, how are you, Sally?” and Sally says “Good.” and then silence? Where you’ve asked all of the people in this room questions about their lives and there are no inquiries about yours? No “How are the kids? Do you like the dip? How’s business? What’s your shoe size?” Nothing.

Or what about this… have you ever risked it and started to play big in your life and the people that you think would cheer you on are telling you you’re doing it wrong? They’re chopping you down at the knees and you choose to believe them. You choose to return to the safe place of being invisible, you stop playing big and believe all the things said about you because that’s what feels normal. And then you stay there for a very long time.

This is why I kept starting my book and stopping, and why I stayed in blame and shame. Staying invisible felt comfortable. It’s like that old pair of slippers you hold onto because they feel good even though they’ve got holes and they’re worn down flat.

I allowed all of this. Read that again.

The shit hurts. Not going to lie. But when you’re done sitting in the pile you can get up and recognize that these times are actually incredible opportunities for 4 things. (girl, click the things)

Forgiveness. Being able to say “what you did was so not ok that I refuse to be connected to it anymore.”

After a healing session I had with a crazy awesome healer I experienced the shift I had been waiting for. Forgiveness.

Holding onto things is exhausting. It’s like carrying a bag of bullsh*t that can’t be used for anything. Three days after the session I was driving down the highway and a gentleness came over me out of nowhere. Seriously, it was the weirdest sensation. I had a very clear vision of setting down that bag and inside I said “I’m done carrying this now.” And that was it. Then this overwhelming feeling of wanting to reach out and hug them washed over me. I wanted to tell them that I was sorry for everything, I had forgiven them, and that I had forgiven myself too. I wanted to start over.

Growth. Accepting that this is all an invitation to grow, even if it sucks for a while.

Starting over doesn’t mean that I’ve erased what happened, or that it was ok that it happened. Seeing shituations and the people in them are all a part of the much bigger picture. It’s the willingness to take them and use them to grow. Or, we can use them to stay bitter, pissed off and the same.  That’s the choice.

I had to choose if I wanted to stay invisible. Sitting in that therapists office making the connection of how I was still allowing myself to be invisible was painful and beautiful.

Being able to make the connection that even if no one cares what size my shoes are, or how my business is going, that I am still ok. I am still amazing. Even if no one agrees with me or validates me, I am more than enough.

Show up. Every single day is an invitation to step into who we are meant to be and release our fear. Shining our light. Fulfilling the purpose of why we’re here. There will always be people who aren’t your cheerleaders. You don’t need them to do that. They’re there as guideposts to becoming the very best version of ourselves if we are willing to look deeper.

Be unapologetically visible. Live like you mean it. Be grateful to the guideposts. The ones who challenge you to show up. You know who they are. The ones who’ve told you that you can’t. You won’t. You don’t belong. The haters. The naysayers.

You have no idea who I am, but I do.


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