I realized my post from yesterday was quite similar to one I made weeks ago. Before I hit send, I said fuck it because I am writing these in my morning, typically before work, with a deadline of 11 AM MTN. I stream my consciousness onto the page and trust whatever comes out is supposed to. I’ve been working with the concept of desire the most over my adulthood. So it’s a classic sign of looping on an unresolved theme. I’m still working to integrate it and seeking to be fully held, witnessed, and understood.

I went to a ranch rodeo last night. I looked adorable. I had a new white wool vest on, my cowboy hat from the store, and a little makeup. Before I left the house, I had a cigarette behind my ear, saw myself in the mirror, and said Oh, no, we can’t be this much trouble today.

Being an outsider

I’m an outsider at rodeos right now. And this was a ranch rodeo, which means it’s all local folks competing against each other. Local ranches from within the area. The big rodeos, everyone in the country follows. They fill the stands at most of the places they go. They’re worth $50,000 to sometimes $100,000 or more in prize money. This one gave out $8K. So you can get the sense of how small it was. Everyone was talking to each other. Saying hi and holding babies. I don’t often feel like an outsider, but I did last night.

It’s hard for me not to just close in on myself. And for those that know me, where I’m comfortable around you, I am a wild fire. I’m big and typically the funniest person people have ever met (that’s me being modest, I’m really funny). But when I don’t know people, when I don’t know the space, the social rules, who’s the boss, if my adorable white wool vest is gonna get me judged, I just close down. You wouldn’t recognize me.

Archetypally, I’m often in the dance of sacred duality, too. The white wool vest and the cigarette. Purity and trouble. I’ve always been a paradox. Spirit doesn’t ask you to resolve that, but to witness it. In my full expression, I am a code for something else. Most of us hold a code for something deeper.

But it’s hard for me to sit in it. I judge myself, I say, look at how you can’t fit in. I hate this. When I’m in it, there’s not much I can do. I’m big when I’m not holding myself tight, and so I’ve been told that it’s actually probably best that I take it slow with my personality with people (both as a kid and as an adult), because if I came in hot (like I can get), I think I would, truly, be rejected. So there’s both a practical reality and a sacred paradox to be witnessed. I hold a posture that is rigid, that can follow the rules and be quiet and not get attention, at first. I might just sit in the bleachers where no one is because it’s safer. I might just play with the puppies someone's selling because, of course, that’s the best place to be anyway.

But inside, I’m crying out to be myself in my full expression and have that be accepted and celebrated.

Adult mean girls

And, there were actually puppies there. There were four or so women, about my age, tending to the puppies, their babies, and watching their husbands (or boyfriends) in competition. It’s sweet. They seemed nice. I assume we’d get along. I wanted to talk to them and make a friend. But they gave me this coldness that I couldn’t shake (or maybe I perceived it). I’m usually, typically, really good at going up to people, saying hi, and starting a conversation. I’m known as an extrovert when I feel safe. When I don’t, I’m just as small as I can make myself, which let me tell you, is really not that small. I’m wearing almost all white with a big ass hat.

It’s a pattern of mine to feel unsafe and uncomfortable around strangers. I never have, and I wish I were able to show up in my energy rather than be so affected by needing the acknowledgment or acceptance of strangers to feel my radiance.

I have a story that the girls were just mean girls. It felt like high school. We were next to the county high school. And anytime I’m in bleachers, I feel like I’m back in high school anyway. They didn’t engage me, and I tell myself that they have to see I’m special to relate to me, that they must just be mean, judgy girls if they don’t. For the record, I’m not like this in all parts of my life. Like when I’m doing sales, you’re always leading, really. You’re always navigating and manipulating the conversation to a point and those are always strangers. I can do that when I have a goal. So why is this any different? Why when I’m just trying to make friends, which means being accepted, seen, and loved for who you are, do I tread lightly?

Spiritually, mean girls are often scared girls: Not always, but often. Coldness can be armor. Me showing up in my magnetism (makeup on, cigarette tucked, big energy restrained) can trigger others who don’t feel free in themselves. I looked noticeably different from the entire crowd (adorable, nonetheless). And I thought I was like toning it down last night (I’m laughing).

In this kind of environment, unspoken rules run deep, too. And I, beloved wild card, don’t typically fit any of them. It’s one reason why we can understand a divine reason for me to be there. It’s also Spirit letting me re-enter that energy field (a rigid, almost high-school-like one) with more awareness now, not to regress, but to reclaim. To parent my teenage self through the rejection and remind her she’s safe now. Remind me that we have to find a way to show up in our radiance everywhere, and not let the fear of rejection consume us.

Wounds of visibility

Overall, I’m looking at this for the wounding that’s still there. For why I can’t or I have a hard time showing up in my energy, my truth, and the way I want to lead and be impacting the world (loving, fun, happy, safe). I’m not gonna stop wearing my white wool vest and big hats. I might need to quit smoking but that’s for another day.

I’m thankfully reminded of a few wounds that still need healing:

1. Wound of visibility. One of my greatest wounds. Writing helps.

2. Attachment wounding: I’m an anxious attachment more often. I can be disorganized too, but I’ve moved more into secure than ever, and I’m proud of that. But I have a nervous system, I’m a human, so I may always have a different type of attachment.

3. High sensitivity to social cues (nervous system regulation): I read energy fast. I’m always scanning, oftentimes for “Is it safe to be me here?” That’s the nervous system doing its job to protect my vulnerability. Especially when growing up, my “bigness” or expressive self, and at this stage, my heart, wasn’t always safe or welcomed.

4. Masking and mirroring (I mean, it could be Autism): I’ve always been a chameleon in the best and worst ways. I know how to play a room. But the shadow of that is self-abandonment: hiding my power until it’s safe, and getting stuck in the freeze instead.

Every moment is a teacher, and this one was no different. In the places we feel unseen, how can we sit in the discomfort of not being recognized so we can learn how to hold our own radiance without needing the mirror of others? How can we continue to remind our inner teenager that they’re safe? How can we give away the energy of small and rejected so that we can shine?

Keepin on keepin on,
Val