Dreams

Where do dreams come from?  Are they about the child?  Are they about the woman?  Are they a mix of the two?

Sometimes I dream about situations that are definitely about the child...  quivering, scared, running - experiencing all of those feelings that I remember from my childhood.  Sometimes I dream about situations that are definitely about the woman .... empowerment, strength, truth - experiencing all of those feelings that I know to be true today.  Sometimes it's a combination of the two.

Dreams are so real and yet so distant.  The floating and the fuzzy outlines.  The knowing and the realizations.  I'm left wondering how these reflect who I am and how they make me who I am today.

Today, my dreams leave me confused.  They leave me uncomfortable.  They leave me longing for things I'll never have.  They leave me concerned about the choices in my life.

And then, I realize that they are only dreams.  They aren't my reality.  That is my woman.

Supporting vs. Insisting

As I write, I'm worried.  

I am worried about a friend, in particular.  But, she's a grown woman who makes her own choices and it's not my job to protect her or save her.  It's my job to be her friend.  It's my job to listen to her.  It's my job to support her in the ways in which she asks for support.  It's not my job to overstep boundaries or offer help she neither wants nor appreciates.

So, I worry.

This is one of those things that I'm learning along this journey.  I'm learning the difference between supporting and insisting.  Insisting is what I'm calling those moments where you feel like you must jump in and help in any way that you deem to be necessary.  Supporting is helping in the way that the other person wants to be helped.  Sometimes support looks the same as insisting, but the two things, I've learned, are received in two entirely different ways.  There's also a motive difference.  Insisting is about me, and comes from my child.  Supporting is about the other person, and comes from my woman.

I often feel myself wanting to help and rescue.  That's entirely about me.  I want to show that I'm worth something.  I want to show that I can be of help.  Me, me, me...  I tell myself that it's altruistic.  The story that I tell myself is that I'm a good/better person because I help.   The truth is, it's often not received in the spirit in which it's intended, because it's likely not what the other person needed at that moment.

I'm learning that the best thing to do is ask the questions.  Instead of presuming what the other person needs, I have learned that the best thing to do is ask them what they need.  That way, it's not about me and what I think and what I want out of the situation.  It's truly about the other and being the best support that I can be.

Who is she?

This has always been a question that escaped me.  I would wallow in the pity of not knowing myself.  

I tried throughout the years to run with different crowds, all the time trying to find myself in the process, to no avail.  I searched and searched in other people.  I wanted desperately to find myself somewhere other than within myself.  

That place, the place that was me, was too messy to look through.  It was like my bedroom in law school - full of stuff that looked important but held little to no relevance to my life at that moment.  It was my confusing childhood.  It was my scared adolescence.  It was my hollow young adulthood.  It was the poor choices.  It was the empty relationships.  It was the education that I had done nothing with of substance.  It was the religion of my youth.  It was the imbalance of an illness that I knew nothing about.  It was the fear, rejection, abandonment - pulling and pushing - grabbing at anything that looked like it would make me a better person.

It was not until my 30's that I truly began to identify with that person.  It was not until I began to truly look deep within myself that I began to realize that all of those things were my little girl, and they all made me the woman that I am today.  A woman of peace, confidence, truth and growth.  

Who is she?  She is me.  All of me.  Child and woman.