I lived ashamed of myself for so long because I was shamed by my parents and their programming. Everything that I did ‘differently’ they didn’t ask ‘why?’. They simply didn’t understand. They jumped right to the program they were dealt and defined me as not good enough. Not cooperative. Not appropriate. Not normal.
Did they mean to?
Do they regret it?
Perhaps they simply do not see it.
I’ll be 40 next year and I am only now starting to see:
I Am Different.
I didn’t come here to fit in.
I came here to help shift the world into a new frequency.
And I am not alone, and that realization was a biggie for me.
When I was little I would leave the house of a neighbor’s kid birthday party. Just simply walk out without telling anyone. I’d go off somewhere to be alone. My parents jumping to the conclusion that I was retaliating. That I was not getting my way, so I was trying to get attention. I know now I simply was escaping energy that didn’t feel right.
When I was little I was force-fed so many times. Shamed for not appreciating how hard my dad and mom worked and cooked to feed me such good food. I know now my body didn’t resonate with the meals but I didn’t know how to explain it. So I’d use words like ‘I don’t like it’, offending my mother’s expectations. Being compared to my brother’s appetite. Shamed and tortured instead of being heard.
When I was little I wet the bed. I was told stories of how both my parents did too when they were children, yet I was shamed for it nonetheless. I remember my mother yelling at me that I would smell and no-one would want to be near me. Shaming me by telling anyone that would listen about what I did. Guilting me for the work she had to do to clean up the mess. I know now that the number one symptom of emotional abuse is bed wetting. Walk into any children’s aid office and pick up a pamphlet, it’s right there in black and white. I know now that my parents were shamed too. Threatened for their symptom also. They simply repeated what was done to them. What seemed normal.
When I was little I would talk to myself. Often behind a closed door. Once in a while I’d be seen or heard by my mom. I remember the pain and embarrassment I felt when she thought it was stupid. When she’d roll her eyes, dismiss what I was doing, or insult it. It would hurt so much and I would start to dismiss it too. I know now I was talking to my spiritual entourage that never went away, even when I wished they did.
When I was little I would be screamed at endlessly by my mother. A habit I now know she must have picked up because when I am unbalanced I have caught myself doing it also. Catching myself not being me but instead repeating a cycle I’m working on breaking. I don’t think she knew it was a cycle. I don’t think she knows now. She would always speak as if anything I did that made her upset I ‘had done on purpose’, ‘against her’. So I became the quiet one. The one you don’t hear a peep out of yet I still somehow got in trouble.
Although they told me stories of a dancing toddler in the middle of the market, these are memories I can’t recall, memories I pushed away. Even though they told me stories of a curious toddler in the beaches of Greece, going up to foreign kids and pretending to speak their language so that we could play, these are also memories I pushed away. All to just go inward. Be quiet. Not provoke more screaming. I know now. That was me, the real me, the short-lived innocent me. Before I started to try and conform. Before I started to hide.
I remember the pain of going to elementary school. The bulling started because I was never self assured. Perhaps I drew it to me as it was all I knew from home. Perhaps it was even my comfort zone. Hiding was easier for me and it probably made it worse. I remember telling the school I walked home for lunch and telling my mom I ate lunch at school. Instead I would hide by the creek in the forest nearby, waiting till just when the bell rang to make my way back. Avoiding any human contact. Never enjoying playing with any of the other kids. Never included, or never reaching out.
I would be made to feel awful for my reaction while getting screamed at by my mom. I would get yelled at for my reaction to being yelled at. I’d stand there stunned. Still. Petrified. I know how much energy affects me now. I understand why I started hiding the real me at such a young age. I understand the shock of so much chaos and how it must have affected me. I understand now how they simply didn’t understand me.
I’m not normal.
I speak energy.
I feel energy.
I am affected by another’s energy. As we all are, but I came here aware of it. But I started to forget and more and more I began to lose touch of who I was and started to morph into who I thought I should be. Who they wanted me to be.
Craving a hug..just a hug.
Just a child wanting to be embraced.
Instead, I recall endless hours sitting behind a closed door. Knees drawn up. Scared. Shaking. Sobbing. Confused. Unsure how I could continue this way. Not wanting to do so. Trying to make it go away…even at the bottom of a pill bottle.
But I came here with a purpose. With a plan.With an Akash that had seen me through far more trauma then this. I chose to come back. I chose to take it.I chose my parents.I knew what I was getting into.I knew I could handle it, no matter how sad, desperate and lonely I felt while walking through it. There was a bigger plan, a bigger mission at hand.
And I was protected. The universe saw to it that my 3D want for escape didn’t win over my multidimensional purpose for being here. I would always survive.
When I was in my 20s, I remember girls around me starting to count their days backward. “Happy 21 again!” All I could think of was ‘I can’t wait for my 30s!!’ I knew! Something big was going to happen!
And it did.
As soon as I turned 30 my world started to crumble, piece by piece. Everything I had worked so hard for, everything I had achieved, all that I navigated through just to prove myself and to fit in, started to break down..just like my insides.
As I am about to start living in my 40’s in a new space in my life, I reflect on this past decade. My 30’s was the death of my old life and a rebirth of the new. It was a decade of having my children but losing everyone else around me. It was a decade of hard lessons, tears, and endings. It was a decade of being forced to face myself to save myself. I had hit rock bottom and there was nowhere to go but up.
What seemed like a tragedy was my greatest blessing. My best laid out plan. I didn’t know how much I knew. I didn’t know how well I was doing. I didn’t know how much I was expanding.. until I did, and I looked back at the old character I had played for so long. I thanked that person, she did what was needed all the while I was there. Learning, experiencing, failing so I could get up. And up I got!
I worked on self-love.
I worked on mindfulness.
I worked on boundaries.
I worked on removing what no longer served me: Toxicity and Limitations.
I stripped away anything that no longer resonated, perhaps it actually never did.
Layer by layer.
Lesson by lesson.
I forgave myself and everyone from my past.
And then, like a butterfly coming out of the chrysalis, I expanded my wings and I started to fly. I now hop around from flower to flower.
My way, the way that feeds my soul.
I now live in the present and check-in with myself often. I ask myself deep questions and I answer with authenticity. I have known too much falseness in my old life. Too much fear. So I shine my light for me. I dug myself out and now I am reaching out my hand to help others. I shine my light for them.
I share and I see why they say that when you can tell your story without breaking down, that’s when you know you have healed. I share because I see so many waking up from their slumber, and I know how lonely it can feel.
You are not alone.
I am not alone.
We are not alone.
We have each other, and we are waking up.
I am here to share.
I am here to assist.
I am here to Love.
~ Evi Paris