Surveying The Landscape Part One - Negative Words Hurt...

Today I woke up with this thought on my mind.  Is living the authentic life we secretly dream of truly  possible?  Is conformity inevitable? 

Let us first remove our masks and delve right in…

Indulge me for a moment as I make this a little more personal.  Am I living my authentic life?”

When I examine the book of my life, as I peruse the pages and conclude each chapter, what words or images do I see?  Is my story reflective of the life I chose for myself, one that was chosen for me or one that simply evolved by default of my existence?

When others read my story, will they see evidence that I lived passionately, prosperously and purposefully?  Or will they conclude that I never lived my authentic dream life but instead opted for an illusion or even more tragic…compromise?

AM I LIVING MY AUTHENTIC LIFE?  And if not…WHY?  I can tell you that my answer at the moment is NO, at least not entirely.


As my old instructor Bob used to say…HOWEVER!  Allow me to further explain.  I’m a WIP (work in progress) on a transformational journey.  The lines between how and when are somewhat sketchy.  Over time an indelible thirsting of soul for something MORE has become the driving force behind my abandonment of false ideals in exchange for truth.

Even as I write, some of my old mental tapes are echoing negative words I often heard growing up.  From the beginning, those words were intended to ensure that I would never rise above mediocrity. 

  

There is a biblical character who’s life I identify with extremely well from this perspective.  His name was Joseph.  Joseph grew up in a family where his gifts and talents were not celebrated by some members of his family, particularly his brothers who were blind to the true measure of gift in their midst.

They called him a dreamer because he was articulate, confident and insightful.  His family failed to comprehend that these, along with other traits, were an equipping for his life assignment.

While I’m sure all of Joseph’s brothers were endowed with their own abilities, the measure of Joseph’s gifting obviously exceeded theirs.  I am not implying that he was more important nonetheless I am asserting that his was more relevant to the future preservation of his family.

My point here is that Joseph was ridiculed, demeaned, mistreated and even perceived as arrogant for exhibiting virtues of faith, wisdom, intelligence, strength and leadership.

Similarly, I can recall being told:  “You’re a dreamer…GET REAL!  Life is NOT a dream!  Who do you think YOU are?  What makes you SO special?  At least you have a job.  Do you know how many people wish they could be in your shoes?  Life is about doing what you have to do to survive.  Life doesn’t always give what you expect…you just deal with it!”

I grew up in a family where my curiosity, creativity and natural bending were neither properly understood nor stewarded.  As a result, I was often accused of trying to be “too grown.”

The basis for this ridiculous accusation, was my level of comfort in communicating with adults.  Some may find this hard to believe but I was actually quite the extrovert as a child.  I initiated conversations with anyone I came in contact with.  I was also very inquisitive often asking question that were too challenging for the adults around me.

In my defense, though, it came naturally.  I was an only child who spent a great deal of time with my parents and other adults.  I rarely spent time around children my own age.

I was like a sponge, soaking up every bit of information I came across.  I was also imaginative and precocious.  I mainly expressed creativity through writing and story telling however I was a mean drum player too. 

I was constantly chastised for being too imaginative and too talkative.  Using my voice was not celebrated.  I just didn’t seem to learn the two most quintessential lessons of childhood…do what’s expected of you and be seen and not heard.

I’ve always identified forced silence as the greatest form of torment.  I am convinced that it was used to squelch my individuality and simultaneously prepare me for assuming my place in the world as a conformist.

The individuals (my family) responsible for shaping my identity early on (I’m sure) were ignorant of the enduring effects their negative words would have on my life.  I would hope to think that if they knew better they would have more wisely chosen the words they sowed into my life.

  

Only recently did I realize that an environment of toxicity was created in my soul upon exposure to negative words, images and experiences.  Further, negative words coupled with the fear they produced in me were perhaps the most effective of all weaponry used against me to guarantee my conformity to obscurity. 

I was constantly chastised for not learning the quintessential lessons of childhood…that is, do what’s expected of you and be seen and not heard.

Forced silence has always been one of my greatest tormentors.  I am convinced that it was used to both squelch my individuality and simultaneously prepare me for assuming my place in the world as a conformist.

Unlike Joseph who led a fruitful life despite his circumstances, long after negative words were imbedded in my psyche, I remained paralyzed, unable to rise above mediocrity.  

Although I was ages away from being that little girl, no matter what setting I migrated to, there always seemed to be a person or a group assigned to reinforce the belief in me that life could never be different or better.

I would love to say that negative words never impact my thoughts, behavior, decisions or expectations today.  I would be dishonest if I didn't admit to falling into their trap more often than I should. 

They can still sometimes hold me captive in ways that no handcuff, rope or chain ever could, I yet can attest to my tremendous progress.  The moment I recognize resurgence of regressive behaviors, I immediately begin the process of adjusting my attitude, perspective and response.   

It amazes me that despite being discouraged from being my authentic self practically my whole life, the dreamer on the inside of me managed never to completely die.  She remained alive despite all attempts at taking her life.

You can't kill the dream or the dreamer.  She's on the journey back2basics: spirit.soul.body

...Oh and as for those who have ever wounded me with their words...to them I say:


"Words Hurt"
by Earitha Anderson

Sticks and Stones
Never Broke My Bones
But Your Words
They Brought
Much Harm To Me

Do You Know
Words Can Heal
Or Bring Harm
Words Can Build
Or Tear Down

Do You Still Use
Words The Same
Breaking Hearts
Causing Shame

Prayerfully Not
You've Created Enough Scars
The Choice Is Yours
You Can Choose Right Now

Weapon Or Oxygen?
Death or Life
Be Mindful of What You Say
STOP Using Negative Words Today

Yes I Still Bear Scars
Forgiveness
Brought Me This Far
Now I Live In Total Power

Your Words
They Fall
Your Labels
Disabled

The End.  Period!

*This poem is Copyrighted and may not be used or reproduced without the expressed consent of the author, Earitha Anderson.