“…but not me.”

Hi, it’s me, calling myself out again because the advice I offer comes from every wound I’ve been working to tend. This is to say, I will never tell you a thing that I haven’t told myself and I won’t send you down any sort of path that I haven’t personally been walking.

Here’s a thing you should know about me:
Historically, I have not been able to accept kindness or goodness from others.

An example?
Let’s take a quote from my one of my last blogs: “You deserve a space to get curious, get deep, and be known.”

My old response: Oh, totally! But not me.

It wasn’t even a conscious thought: someone offers kindness, space, an opportunity for me to be present and known and my mouth starts forming the word “No” before they’ve even finished their sentence. My shoulders would tense and my spine would straighten because I felt threatened.

In my early life, most good things came with strings and fine print; even having some of my most basic needs met involved a balance sheet. The giving was never a kindness; it was a means to secure favor that would later be leveraged against me.

Accepting kindness or goodness necessarily meant that I would be indebted to someone, and I never wanted to be in a position for them to come collect.

I lived a hypervigilant, overextending life that never allowed anyone to get close enough to see or know me clearly; I was too busy making deposits by performing kindness out of fear.

When I was offered a thing, I instantly thought of what I’d be required to sacrifice to have it—what parts of me would need to be hidden, which would need to be presented first to win people over, and which would never to be expressed in any circumstance.

I spent years of my life at literal buffets of beautiful opportunities and I wouldn’t even get close to any of them.

I wouldn’t imagine a future for myself; I’d just keep asking people what they need from me, giving it to them, and become whatever they need. That way I’d never get hurt, never disappoint, never be in debt, and—never be known. 

Accepting is not always simply about self-worth; it is also about who taught us about relationships, how to show up in them, and if there was ever any room for our needs.

I use writing as my primary tool for coaching because every wound, every defense will show up in our writing; it will show up both in what we say & what we don’t say—what words we use and those we don’t.

We tell on ourselves in writing because there’s a piece of us that trusts itself & its desires. That part of us is just as strong, just as present as the old part that wants to run and hide; but you have to learn to show up for it.

Listen to me:

You have to believe that you can be brave enough to receive & resilient enough to survive what happens next. 

You have to find people (🙋🏻‍♀️) who will believe in you—with you & for you—when you’re struggling to believe in yourself.

You have to find spaces that mean what they say when they say *all* of you is welcome.

You have to find a community that encourages you to listen to yourself and holds up a mirror to reflect back the big, bold, “More, please” life that you want.

Here’s the thing: Yes. Yes, for you.

You are allowed to want.

You are allowed to have.

You are allowed. All of you.

Casual Magic Writing
© 2021 Kells Yells LLC