The Coronavirus is wreaking havoc in people’s lives in unanticipated ways. Voluntary semi-quarantine, which I am engaged in now, except to go to work and have the occasional visit with my son, daughter in-law and newborn grandson has become a familiar experience over the past week. I am symptom-free and hopefully, virus free and will […]
Most people I know see me through the sweetness and light lens. After all, I’m the Bliss Mistress who delights in helping people lead rich, full, juicy lives, slurping the juice from the bottom of the glass, putting their whole selves in. According to a friend, I have glitter coming out of my pores. I might as well be a unicorn. I do have unicorn PJs and slippers. In addition, I am a consummate caregiver who offers support whether or not it is requested. I strike up conversations with strangers and with their consent, hug them. I am a safe place to land for family, friends, and clients. I am often their go-to person to figure out the tough stuff and celebrate the joys and triumphs. A hard reputation to live up to.
In the last few days, I have been exploring my shadow side, since it sneaks its snarky head up from time to time. I know that the more I deny that it exists or attempt to sweep it under a rug or decorate it with sparkles, rainbows, and silk, it’s still going to make its presence known. What I have come face to face with is the judgemental part of me that truly believes that if everyone shared my pro-social values, the world would heal. I have come to accept that I bear resentment toward those who lie, cheat, steal and do harm to others and STILL are rewarded financially. I grit my teeth when people smoke around children and animals since they didn’t ask to be poisoned. When smokers drop their cigarette butts on the ground, I want to remind them that the Earth is not their ashtray. I question how people who are abusive have loving partners. Even as an addictions counselor, I still cringe when people knowingly refuse to look at the ways in which it impacts the lives of those around them. Another (relatively benign) pet peeve is grammatical errors. Their/there/they’re. “Him and I went to the store,” when it should be “He and I went to the store.” “Me and her went for a walk,” when it should be “She and I went for a walk.” The overuse of the words ‘like’ and ‘you know’. “I seen…” instead of “I saw.” “Her and I’s car is blue,” when it should be, “Her’s and my car is blue.” Those are like nails on a chalkboard for this writer and editor. Today I corrected someone’s grammar on social media who didn’t ask for it and I quickly went back in to delete my comment after asking myself those important questions, “was it kind?” “was it true?” “was it necessary?” No, yes, no were my responses.
Clearly, I hold anger and frustration with the current administration and harshly judge their characters and behaviors. I do my best to allow those feelings to prompt positive action. I am appalled at the ways in which people misuse their power to cross boundaries with regard to touch. Every person has the right to body sovereignty regardless of age and of relationship with the person wanting to touch them. I see red when someone projects racist, sexist, homophobic, transphobic, xenophobic, anti-Semitic attitudes.
Those admissions were brought with them a sense of release since I worried that if people knew my innermost yucky, judgy thoughts. they wouldn’t accept, love or respect me. They wouldn’t want me to teach or counsel them. They would think I am an awful human being. Heck, I sometimes think those things. That’s what has arisen when I have done that cave exploration.
I choose to see the world, and myself as part of it, through the eyes of love and not judgment. May it be so.
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