I sat in the bathroom watching my Mom aggressively brush her teeth. Her thick golden blond hair fell just below her shoulders completely covering her face as she leaned over the sink to spit out the toothpastes foamy residue. She resembled a rabid animal and the energy she was sending out into the world was palatable. I sat quiet and still drowning in overwhelming anxiety watching this woman viciously rake the toothbrush across her teeth and gums. I was anxiously waiting for her to finish and leave the bathroom however, she went for round two. This woman next to me was beautiful beyond compare and in the same way, intimidating beyond compare. I knew this woman had an aggressive love for me but, she was lost in what resembled a dissociative amnesia, unaware that I was even in the room with her and her thoughts.
While I sat waiting for my turn to brush my teeth, I was overcome by a “feeling” or maybe, it was more like a clear “voice” in my inner consciousness. I could discern that I was hearing this internally and it had grabbed ahold of me, I couldn’t help but turn over my full attention to it. When you are nine years old, you not prepared to experience a spiritual encounter or to receive a life altering profound word from God, never mind while sitting on a toilet seat drowning in a case of emotional rabies. The voice had my full attention.
“You were made for more than this......”
I was disoriented. Entirely confused by the words. I had never heard anything prophetic before, and yet, I knew in my guts that this message would have importance over me. The nine year old, unrefined hood rat that had been controlling me couldn’t not ask....
“Made for what?”
As I write this book, I reflect on the many thousands of pages of notes, deep thoughts written across pieces of scrap paperer, questionable quotes, words that had touched my soul, and years of journal entries.The poignant moments of my life that no one would ever truly give a second thought about. I viewed myself as a random nobody who has had some life thrown at her. Who would care? I can not help but, feel fraudulent. I believed I was a simple minded hood rat with an internal energy so forceful, it had been nearly impossible to keep myself contained. I lived in a constant state of fear and anxiety of being "found out"......I was just an insignificant, a nobody. So, I overcompensated. I will own my “role” as the family comedian with a panic disorder, born with too much momentum and an affinity for the deep woods, deep conversations, fierce competition, fancy clothes, novelty, and heart attack inducing adrenaline rushes. My taste, my talents, my body, and my brain were bouncing all over the place. All. The. Time.
Those seven insignificant words continue to haunt me to this day, and as the days and years have passed, I have felt that I will never live up to their inaudible expectations of excellence. And at nine years old, God introduced Himself to me while I was sitting on a toilet seat, waiting to brush my teeth.
"You were made for more thn this."
My therapist reached across the large mahogany desk and handed me a neon sticky note. “Stace, I am giving you a referral to a new therapist. This man will be a “better fit” for you. You have something called complex trauma. I don’t have the skill, or training, to keep moving forward with your case. I really don’t know how you have made it this far.”
I had just been “fired” by my third therapist. I sat looking at the sticky note. I could feel my feet sinking through the floor as the blood pooled into my limbs. I didn’t know if I should run or fight but, I knew sitting there staring at the sticky note for the next hour was not an option.
I smiled, excused myself early from our session, and forced my numb limbs to move.
I walked out of her office and across the parking lot with the sticky note, and attached it to the back of my cell phone. The new guy I was referred to was considered to be the “best”, “the man”, the “authority” on all things complex and traumatic. He was considered the “Savior” when it came to the treatment needs of patients with CPTSD and I was that
patient. I was that woman, the woman who needed intensive therapy for complex trauma. As deflated and exhausted as I was, I was desperate for answers.
Our Deepest Fear
By Marianne Williamson
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure
It is our light, not our darkness. That most frightens us.
We ask ourselves who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God.
Your playing small does not serve the world.
There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you.
We are all meant to shine, as children do.
We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.
It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone.
And as we let our own light shine,
We unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we’re liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.
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