Last night I knew I had to stand up in front of 500 people and get vulnerable.
In my past I was taught that when you ask for help it is inviting people to come in and take control. They would see me as weak, spineless and sickly.
I stood in front of a microphone in a church in New York City, looking Gabrielle Bernstein in her beautiful face and I told her:
“I’m a healer, and I’m in a spiritual burn out. I encourage people to choose love and embody that, yet I hate my father. I then obsess about it in prayer and meditation. Any advice?”
I was shaking and sweating, questioning why I had stood up. Until I heard her answer:
“Let yourself be angry. Anger is a step above fear and powerlessness. Meet yourself where you’re at. When it’s time, you’ll reach for a higher vibe emotion. Also, move away from that relationship.”
Sharp, short and to the point.
Four days earlier, I was on top of the world. I had a huge meeting that went really well. I am diving into work I love to do. I feel limitless and sexy and powerful. In the back of my mind my last blog post crept up “That was really personal. Maybe I should take it down.”
I went on with my day, and other thoughts kept creeping up “What are you really doing with your life?”, “Enjoy New York while you can, you’re probably not going to make it anywhere” and the scariest thought “Maybe you should get a real job, ya know, so you can fund what you really love to do.”
Just like that I couldn’t get out of bed. Emotional pain leaves my limbs heavy and ached.
I woke up Saturday sad, feeling alone.
I decided to take it easy. No pressure of emails, writing, bills or responsibilities. Texting a few friends, responding to social media.
Still slow moving, I took a gentle shower. I could hear my phone ping from the bathroom.
For some reason, I wasn’t excited to check it. I took my time in the bathroom, then glanced at my screen. It’s from my father.
And then it starts into a message that touches on all of my fears, my pain, my insecurities.The isolation, the judgement, lack of support and fear.
A recommendation for psychiatric help.
A deep fear that slept in my belly rose up. I felt like a child again, trying to get out of her father’s way and didn’t understand why she was bad and how to remedy it. This fear filled my navel to my brow, then spread to my extremeties.
You’re all alone. No support.
Your family will not have you.
Then a quiet, new voice appeared.
This voice got me out of bed, wiped my tears and had me wandering the streets of my favorite city.
To be honest, I’ve never had my fathers love and support. Any time I would show him who I really was, I was getting chastised or corrected.
Some people I will love from afar.
I do mourn. I mourn the idea of a father who loves me, supports me, sees me.
I was born with a father who has a list of what people should be.A list I tried so hard to pretend to be, but I no longer have the energy for.
I curse, I enjoy sex, I am not religious.
I also love with my entire being, I freely give my time and resources to do a good thing.
I am building a network of diverse and fiery people that will heal, remove shame and guilt, while breathing love and life into every corner.
Maybe one day my dad will get it.
It might be when my book is published, on my first tv appearance, or when I make my first million.
I can no longer spend my thoughts on how to get my father to love me.
I’m working on a bigger love.