“The Missing Piece” – (c) Angie K. Millgate 2008As I have ventured into this New Year, (What? Yes, I know we are only 2 days in, but every day counts in things like this!) I have discovered some new things about myself. Or, perhaps they are old things that I am just now recognizing or re-recognizing.
At any rate, I have discovered some interesting glitches in my system, hitches in my giddy-up. They came through in the form of questions I had arise during a conversation with one of my best friends, Karen, following a joint-venture New Year’s Eve celebration that ended up being sqwonky and completely contrary to what either of us had wanted to create. They are things that I would like to acknowledge by writing out here for my hands, head, ears and eyes to experience. This is part of my process… writing it out so that the answers can come. In faith I do so now…
How is it that I can sit in a dangerous situation, knowing that it is so dangerous, and just sit there without moving? How can I be conscious that there is a figurative gun pointing at my head and, yet, I do nothing. It is not that I freeze. It’s not that I faint. There is no fear response. There is simply… nothing. I can see and feel in the moment that what I am experiencing is not something I want to be experiencing – sometimes I am even forewarned that I am going into a situation that is “not good” for me and do it anyway then I sit there, feeling it all, seeing it all, hearing it all and do nothing. It is as though there is a delay programmed into the part of my brain that brings action. What is that about?
When I find myself in a space I judge as dangerous, how am I able to see the others there as different than me? This one pains me. I have a tendency to look at the situation and “them” and tell myself that I’m there by accident, but they meant to be there. In that moment, I forget that I am creating my life in a way that landed me in the same place as “them.” We are all in the same place. I am there too. There is a line from the movie Adventures of Buckaroo Bonzai that has been continually running through my brain as of late: “Wherever you go, there you are.” So, I am showing up in literal and figurative places where I feel uncomfortable and I become unwilling to look at why *I* am there, but am fully willing to judge why the others are there. What is that about?
What am I so scared about that I am unable to look at myself? I hold to the fact that everyone with whom I am in relationship are a mirror of who I am – whether it’s an intimate relationship, a friendship, a partnership, a family relationship, an electronic friendship or a passing acquaintance. Conveniently, when I end up in places that are uncomfortable for me and I look at the others with derision, I forget that “those people” are my mirror. I forget – nay, I refuse – to look at the fact that they are mirroring myself to me. In talking with Karen, I realized that there are some pretty ugly aspects of myself that I am unable to even peek at and so, I end up in places where it is right there, undeniably clear in my face for me to see. And, even then, I make it about “them.” What is that about?
How is it that I experience something coming to me, getting excited about it, celebrate it and then it turns the opposite direction before it ever arrives? This is a recurring pattern in my life. I get told that I’ve been invited to join a club, get to try it out one time and then get told I’m “not a fit after all.” Or, I get excited about working with a new client who is excited about working with me and then… they never show up. Or I start a new “job” with a friend whom I have known forever and then, on one uninformed misstep in the beginning, I’m fired. Or I try out for a team, make it all the way to final cut and then get cut because I’m not tall enough. Or I can see an excellent working opportunity coming toward me, I get excited about it, I open up my arms to receive it and… nothing. What is that about?
What is it that holds me back from speaking my truth? Time and again, over things big and small, in my relationship with Karen (and several other really close friends) I have had moments where I have held my tongue for one reason or another. At times, it has caused huge arguments. At others, it has caused confusion. And, at others, it has resulted in one or both of us missing out on an opportunity of which we both wanted to partake. I discovered through the New Year’s debacle that, had I spoken the idea that I was discounting as unimportant and silly, we would have done that instead of what we ended up doing. So… if I have had proven to me time and again the power of speaking my truth at all times even when I judge it to be unimportant, silly or small, why do I still not do it?
What is it in me that causes me to hang on to relationships that no longer serve me? When someone has moved on, why do I still pine for that person? This is a l-o-n-g standing pattern of mine (I imagine all of them are, but I am most familiar with this one) and one which I am hoping to reprogram immediately. I am exhausted from playing in this playground all of my life. And there isn’t anything else to say about this one. I imagine that, if you have been reading my blog for any length of time, you have already picked up on this lovely number. Soooo… what is it?
In my conversation with Karen, I commented that it felt like it was one nugget of something that I was missing or not recognizing or refusing to see. And that that one nugget ran through all of these aspects of myself and was also an aspect of my journey with my body image. It feels like it is one tangible piece of me that has been misplaced or strewn too far thin or cast over the cliff and that one piece is the piece I need to find to recognize and resolve these patterns of destruction. Soooooo… where is it?
I commit to being continually curious and open to finding this nugget in loving and easeful ways and then gratefully incorporating it into my wholeness.
