Note to My 2-Year Old Self: You Deserve the World
I’m blocked. I think I have been for a long time – forever actually. Not writer’s block, or digestive block – although those things could arise as a result of being blocked. Apparently, I have blocks of the more “self-limiting” beliefs variety, as they’re called.
Now, we haven’t named my block as such, yet. But in my recent work with a wonderful lady named Alexa Linton, I’m ready for this realization. I got in touch with Alexa after perusing her fabulous web site (complete with fabulous photography of her and her beautiful horses on a tranquil farm on Vancouver Island), which, in a nutshell, details her story, and her different programs and coaching sessions for women who have lost their way, and are just feeling, as she puts it, “blah”…
She does this through energy healing, using her special program called BodyWork. Zest, passion, get-up-and-goness – something is missing from our lives and she has the techniques to get them back, and get us on the right path – the path our hearts are longing for, but that we can’t quite yet define.
Back to my block. In my first, and only session so far with Alexa, we did a lot of breathing and tapping and messaging of my liver, because, if you didn’t know, the liver is linked to flow and clarity of purpose. Apparently my liver needs a slight cleanse – you don’t say.
What was coming up for Alexa on our call (through Skype by the way – no you don’t have to actually be present!) was something that may have happened to my 2-year old self, something that relates to the word “deserving”.
Something about how I was unable to be my ebullient, bubbly self – apparently somebody or something squashed that beautiful quality down, and I somehow learned that it wasn’t ok to just be me. I’m sensing a “limiting belief” coming in here soon.
After a lot of liver messaging, which totally rocked by the way (I guess my liver needs love), Alexa asked that I write a letter to my 2- year-old self, asking what she needs from me. I always take these things way too seriously.
Like, wouldn’t I just ask; “Hey crazy spunky 2-year-old Aimster, what is the problem? Who put you down, pissed you off, made you fold up your personality and stuff it away in an envelope, and send it to your mid-life crisis, um I mean, transformative self 30 some-odd years later to open and pop out again like a jack-in-the-box?”
Well, I’m asking – because I have to, because I need to. Apparently this DESERVING block is holding me back now, as in, I feel that I DON’T DESERVE. I think a lot of people have this self-limiting sub-conscious belief – that they’re not worthy, that (fill in the blank – success, happiness, love) is for other people, not me – but what I am now understanding is how this is holding me back and how I need to clear this shit OUT. Like, now people.
So, I asked my mother. At the risk of her and my father wanting to know what the heck I was asking for, (as if they already aren’t possibly worried that my proclivities as of late entail going to see healers and coaches and the like) I needed to know if anything odd or hurtful or noteworthy had happened to me around that age.
Turns out there was a mean girl who lived next door to us that was a complete shit to me. Slamming doors in my face, ignoring me, refusing to play with me, etc. She was older than I was (I’m going to guess she was around 5) and I’m sure she thought me a baby and utterly uncool. Rough.
Mom says I was utterly devastated by the entire affair to the point that my mother tried to distract me from my desperate attempts to play with her. I was hurt, wounded, rejected. Could this be where my “I don’t deserve” belief emanated from? Did I think it must be me, Amy, that she doesn’t like, and therefore 2-year-old-self believes me = not good?
Damn, I’m now scared (more than I was before!) about how rejection may affect my kids – they could be carrying around this crap forever! Or at least, until their letters with all of their stuffed down shit shows up. No, that won’t happen, let’s be positive people! Kids are resilient. Resilient.
And here come the tears. It’s like a hypnotherapist brought me back to some traumatic event and I couldn’t handle the pain. The cool part of all this is, you get to welcome in this ugly feeling and then light it on fire and blow it away. Or something. I’m not sure exactly how we’re going to deal with my little 2-year-old exuberant self, but I’m guessing she’s gonna get a good bit of hugs and love, and affirmations.
Truthfully, I don’t think she’s gone. As I think about my life, I do realize all the times I’ve done things that have been expressions of my true self – times where I felt incredible, joyful, fulfilled and on fire. Popping out like that jack-in-the-box to say hello, because it just could not, would not, be contained – bits of my true self revealed.
But for whatever reason, I always seemed to cut-off or cut-short these wonderful, brief displays , manging to stuff them back in the box where they belonged. I always went back to doing the “safe thing” – the thing I guess I thought I “should do”, or that wouldn’t “rock the boat.” It wasn’t as if I had an unsupportive family or friends – they always cheered me on and loved (almost) everything I did or tried.
The bugger buggering up my life and stuffing myself back into the box was always, of course, me.
We all have constantly running narratives in our heads of which we are mostly unaware, and I bet many of us think this is “just the way we are” or have no real awareness that there is an underlying reason that we do what we do. Reaching in and pulling out those little bastards that seem to derail our best intentions and cloud the view of what we want most, is a very liberating and illuminating thing.
Perhaps I’ll post my letter. Perhaps that will help me choke off this little bugger that has possibly been stopping me from fulfilling whatever it is I need to do next. Figuring that out is really the goal here – clearing the path of its tangled branches and vines so I can see it clearly and hold nothing back. Apologize for nothing. That is the point.
What would you say to your 2-year-old self? Or any other age you may remember an event that (knowing or unknowingly) shaped your sub-conscious view of yourself and therefore your constant narrative. Love to hear it… help me out! I feel better when people share. We deserve it.
Image courtesy: freedigitalphotos.net, “Child Drawing With Pencils” by Stuart Miles