Healing, Growth, and Finding My Way

Both of the topics I wanted to write about this week feel almost too vulnerable to put into words. I dragged my feet on this post, writing it later than I normally do. Usually, I would have already had it pre-scheduled to go live on my website at 4 PM on Saturday. But here I am, just now sitting down to write because vulnerability is scary. Opening yourself up to whoever is still reading this, showing parts of yourself that might appear weak—it’s daunting. Granted, I don’t see myself as weak, but these topics feel like cracks in my armor.

I didn’t even know what I wanted to write about. Should I talk about the shadow work I’ve been doing and how body image, rejection, and abandonment are some of my biggest triggers? Or should I write about how I am overcoming fear and learning to find love in everything? How I am working through the paralyzing fear that keeps me from showing my true self to the world? Or do I write about what I’m calling “inner infant work,” which probably falls under some category of inner child work? I don’t know if this term has been coined, but it’s what I’ve been doing. I guess we’ll start there because it feels like the easiest place to begin.

Before my mom passed, in her infinite wisdom, she bought me a Madame Alexander baby doll for my future children. At the time, it felt like a major slap in the face because I was single, and it felt like she was giving up on the idea that I would ever have kids (I know that’s not where she was coming from, but at the time, that’s how I perceived it). Now, I’m at a place in my life where I would have children if I could, but I’m not going to rush anything with anyone just because my clock is ticking. I also know I’d be a great stepmom, which is huge growth for me because, at one point, I was straight-up scared I would mess up with kids.

Anyway, I still have this doll, and even though I’ve done inner child work, I feel called to do inner infant work. When I look at pictures of myself at three years old, I’m not smiling, not giggling—not what people expect to see in a young child. I wouldn’t call it abnormal or normal because everyone has their own journey, and I don’t begrudge my parents. I know they did the best they could, even though I’m still processing a lot of emotions. But at three, you can already see that I wasn’t a happy-go-lucky baby.

So, I’m going back further—from my inner child to my inner infant. The baby that couldn’t help itself. I’ve been sending unconditional love to that baby, the one that was me. As silly as it sounds (and sometimes feels), I’ve been holding the doll my mother gave me and pretending it’s me. Holding it, loving it, making sure it feels like it belongs in this world. That it deserves to be here. That it is worthy of good things. And wow—isn’t that something vulnerable to admit?

Abandonment and rejection are huge triggers for me, and they’re one of the reasons I’ve kept myself out of the dating pool. I think anyone I’ve ever dated has felt the effects of my fears—how I want to cling to something so badly, even when it’s not there. Recently, I had a trigger. Ironically, right before it happened, I had pulled an oracle card that said "shadow work." I remember thinking, "Well, that’s weird. That’s not what I expected to see right now." And then the trigger happened.

I was already on edge, hypervigilant in my nervous system, and then bam—rejection. And still weeks after, I am still pulling shadow work cards—even from a different oracle deck. To most, rejection is redirection. It hurts, they process it, and they get over it. And yes, there are also those who eat, drink, smoke, or engage in other behaviors to numb the pain. Let’s just say there was a time in the past two weeks when I found myself driving to Andy’s. Andy’s has this amazing cookie butter crunch concrete with Biscoff cookies. I KNEW what I was doing at the time and did it anyway. But unlike the past, where I would have gone there every day for a week, I only went once. I have successfully NOT fallen into a binge cycle, and after about a week—with lots of support—I have myself working out again, eating well again. I am feeling my feelings rather than hiding them within my food, escaping into fantasy novels, or mindlessly scrolling social media. Although, not gonna lie, sometimes feeling those feelings absolutely sucks. But it’s quick and over before I know it.

This recent rejection was enough of a trigger to make it blatantly obvious that this is something I need to face, embrace, and heal. There have been so many tears, so much time spent in my head instead of my feelings. Trying to white-knuckle decisions to make things happen rather than just being open and trusting that the universe has my back. I started questioning what I’m doing with my life, with myself, where I should go. It’s like this trigger opened the floodgates of self-doubt in every area of my life.

I always use astrology as a guide, like don’t sign a contract when Mercury is retrograde or expect people to “act a fool” during a full moon. But I don’t always take stock of how it’s personally affecting me. But damn—this Venus retrograde is kicking my ass. And I know that if something remains in my life, it’s still serving a purpose. Coming from a spiritual and manifestation background, I always believed, "Change your thoughts, change your feelings." And sure, in theory, it sounds simple. But if it were that easy, everyone would have done it already. When trauma is stored in the nervous system, you have to work through it. So here I am, standing in front of a mirror, arms above my head, saying, "I deserve a healthy relationship," three sets of five, twice a day. I love a good workout, and I’m treating this like any other kind of workout. At first, I resisted—because it felt hokey. But I know it will help.

Then, there’s turning 40. With that, I get bumped into the high-risk breast cancer clinic. My mom had breast cancer—twice, two different types. One of my dad’s siblings had breast cancer, too. And if you’ve seen me, my boobs are huge, which, ironically, I used to despise. Now I embrace and secretly like them, even though button-up shirts are a bitch sometimes. But this doctor’s appointment, which I have known about forever, brought up all kinds of emotions. Getting a mammogram or MRI every six months? Deciding whether to do genetic testing? Even if the results are negative for me, my brothers and their kids could have a different outcome. Plus, there’s the life insurance and actual insurance factor of genetic testing. So many thoughts and feelings to process.

This year, I am focused on becoming the best version of myself—physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually. At some point in the last three weeks, a switch flipped, and I knew that no matter what else is going on—even if all of my hopes and dreams don’t pan out—I have to be okay with who and what I am. That realization helped take some of the pressure off areas in my life—pressure I had been putting on myself. I find it so much easier to do for others rather than for myself, and that realization helped me reinforce my boundaries: I come first. If this is my "Master Year" in numerology, then I guess that means I have to master my biggest triggers to become the strong, emotionally resilient woman I envision. Not master my job, my housing, or self-imposed stressors—but myself.

I have not been allowing myself to flow. I hope to release, let go, and embrace my shadow self. To heal my wounds, little by little, so that when rejection happens, I can stand resilient, feel my emotions, and move forward knowing that I am just fine and still standing.

Maybe listening to Brené Brown’s book on vulnerability gave me the courage to post this. And maybe that’s exactly what I needed.