Here I sit, no distractions. Just myself and this computer. I don’t even have anything fancy to say. I have not lit my fireplace or a single candle. Not even one stick of incense. I have removed my jewelry and cried off even the little bit of moisturizer I put on this morning. But my eyes are clear.
I run. I run from my inner wisdom and heart-knowing. I run from the pain buried deep inside. I run and hide behind the reality of my father’s confusion and my mother’s rage.
My running has taken on epic proportions and has morphed into a variety of seemingly advanced adaptions. I distract myself and play with my goddess bling, essential oils and crystals. I let my clients’ needs take me over and distract me so that I can focus on them and collude to keep them from feeling too much too. I have made a career out of “fixing” people. I am really good at it. I have a lot of answers and they keep coming! I take on people projects. I convert them into “mini-me’s.” My clients copy me, my clothes, my jewelry, my habits. This makes us all happy. It proves that I am doing a “good” job and everyone will feel better. I am making my clients happy. I am proving my self-worth to them and to myself. I want to be known as brilliant, so I say important things that change their lives. They get hooked and keep coming back to learn the latest development. Oh, yes, this is a clever way to run from myself through my clients. Keep that old mind fully engaged in the old pattern of needing to prove worth through acts of service and being oh so very good at problem-solving…..
Running. This subtle thing I do when I am upset and trying to avoid feeling feelings. It used to be more obvious—when I was younger—I would literally “run away” from difficult relationships, finding flaws too central to work with in my boyfriends. Or friends who did not understand my need for space or highly sensitive needs.
Just really an internal cover up job for pushing away my own inner fear of the magnitude of the feelings waiting for me to feel. I ran when the feelings got tough.
Another form of running away is distraction—yes, I did the classic ones—eating, drinking alcohol, gossiping with friends, shopping, watching TV…
But I have some pretty clever distractions that I pretended were not just that. For example, I am super good at throwing myself into new projects. What a great way to distract myself from pain! Just like changing the channel on the television, with one BIG click, I can pour my energy into a new place.
No heartbreak for me! No way! Some good categories of this: Traveling! Anywhere will do, Europe, Hawaii, road trip, airplane, near or far. The more complicated the better—give me a new language, windy roads and a tightly-packed itinerary and I am off to a great distraction.
Or another classic: Moving! I have moved my private practice five times in the past 10 years. What a great way to change things up a little bit! Each time, I decorate, clear the energy, and Feng Shui the heck out of every inch.
Or I obsess over sex. I have even made that distraction more elevated. I have TANTRIC sex.
Running has been showing up in these little ways—wanting to avoid driving the same route from work—anything NEW will HELP me! Yes, help me to avoid. I feel the inner push away from fully feeling—like pushing two magnets of the same poles together and getting that inevitable repel.
What is the difference between distracting myself and taking care of myself?
Why do I do the practices, mediation, rituals, beautify, if they are helping me to avoid what’s underneath? The loneliness, despair, primal fear of abandonment, total annihilation.
The day finally came when I had filled myself up enough with the practices and was ready to face myself—unadorned. To see the real me, the flaws and the beauty.
The day I stopped running was the day I had finally had ENOUGH. I was deep in a dark, seductive, twisted relationship, completely out of my body, focusing on meeting my lover’s needs. I had put aside so many things that I love: myself, my children, my writing, my workshops, to wait for this man. WHO HAD I BECOME?
All my fancy running was so similar to this internal feeling of “tap-dancing” around to get noticed by my father, an avoidant party-boy-man. Being in a current relationship with boy-man, was parallel to my desperate dance to get love from my compromised father.
And yet, the lesson I gleaned from the similarities was this: love is pure, both boy-men loved me, heart- strings of pure golden thread. However, as a day-to-day functioning relationship, it was time for me to move on.
To stop running, dancing, distracting from my inner strength and power. To venture out ALONE.
And underneath that layer—that’s the gold—the naked self, simple, unadorned, no frills or distractions. No efforts. Just pure ME. With my curly hair down and big intense eyes bright, my long fingers, jiggly butt and weird sense of humor. ME. I like to sing all day. I dance around the house and in the car and by myself in the middle of a crowd of people. I like to hug you—my friends and strangers. I will call you Lovey, Dear One and Beloved because I LOVE YOU. I have BIG feelings and BIG ideas and I AM NOT SORRY about that.
I may feel like shit right now, but I know I am LOVE. And I am LOVED.
So I chose to not run away anymore. I will stay here and see what develops. I will trust that I am strong and can carry my own torch for what I need to be healthy and cared for. My boundaries are flexible, but intact. My instincts sharp. I am wobbly, but awake.