Feeling when you never learned how

And other stories

Photo by Daniel Gonzalez on Unsplash

I have felt pulled in a number of directions in the past few weeks, all in service to external validation and/or sources and it brings a kind of sticky shame along with the realization.

I felt like I had to prove I was worthy of just about anything. Being part of a group, a role or title in a job or even a volunteer position, contributing to a conversation, writing about my own experience even - all elusive unless I had some sort of ‘credibility’ where folks might think I was worth or worthy of their attention. That included my own family.

Only recently have I realized what a maniacal, mad pursuit it has been, all outside myself, expecting others to reflect what I had access to and could choose for myself. Looking outside to fill a hole inside is wasted energy.

Intellectually, it’s something we know. We hear that there is joy in self love, in letting go of seeking validation from others and yet every interaction seems to take up so much time in our heads.

And I’ve been thinking a lot about the rage I’ve held inside me, the resentment of being female and the expectations that come along with that in our society. Not just expectations, but the voices who are the loudest, the humans that get attention with no proof of credibility, and the folks who get the brunt of what those attention-getting folks dictate as truth.

This predates us. It’s been happening for literally centuries, at least a thousand years. I’m writing about this a bit more in another post.

This shows up in my relationships now, with the men in my life in particular.

I have just reached my limit in what I am willing to digest. As I get healthier, my place in the world shifts and that’s challenging for the people around me.

My passiveness no longer suits the person I am becoming. And the fearful voice that I was used to speaking from is becoming full of an unwavering confidence. A confidence that comes from owning ALL of me. The gritty, fallable, promiscuous, wild, awkward woman I have been and the one I have become as a result of all those perceived failures, all of those dismissals, all of that silencing - self or otherwise.

I’m tired of being scared, living in fear, paralyzing myself, stopping myself from telling the truth.

That has only come from feeling.

I heard something today that made me pause and realize yes, this is it!

We must FEEL and feeling does not attach itself to words. Feelings + words = rationalization. Can I feel without attaching shame to the feeling? Can I just have my feelings, let them wash over me, and let the energy of the feelings run out? Because the anxiety I attach to feeling is what trips me up. Anxiety never runs out of energy, it never lets up. Feelings run their course if you can let them wash over you, if you can sit shoulder to shoulder with them.

I’m sitting with this, in this very moment.

What I can tell you is that I know my rage often comes from fear of not being seen but also the fear of being seen. And what that might cost.

All the women who came before me, whose texts were hidden, whose work and words were buried, whose accomplishments were minimized at the hands of men and power.

Someone taught men to do that or that they had to do that. And that message keeps getting validated, over and over and over again.

Either explicitly or by example.

And there are those of us (yep me) who have upheld that oppression by not speaking up for ourselves and for others.

I’ve been expecting the men around me to learn as much about feminine rage as I am. I share stuff with them, I stand up for myself and explain why.

I’m expecting them to understand the implications now.

But what would they have to give up? What would have to shift for them?

I’ve found myself tearing up easily, almost grieving my old self in real time. But also grieving what else might fall away as this shift continues to gain strength and momentum.

It’s also a relief to release my death grip on my throat and accept that my voice does matter.

All of us carry the words that women before us could not speak.

It’s in our bones. And it’s our time now.