I remember growing up hearing someone make the statement “I am a rock”. That sounded so profound to me. A rock was strong and difficult to break. Smooth on the surface, hiding whatever lay at the core of its existence. I so wanted to be a rock. I wanted that strong, smooth surface that hid whatever lay at the core of my existence. Why you ask? Because I had been abused and the image of what lay at my core was something ugly and evil. Many small children feel that way after abuse. They never dream of blaming their abuser for the abuser is an adult and therefore a person of authority and one who loves you—one you love. Therefore it must be something deep inside of you that is responsible. Something cold, ugly and evil that you must protect yourself from and you must protect others from.
I spent many years as a rock. Strong on the outside, smooth to those who knew me, hiding what I perceived to be the real me. Protecting others from the evil within. But like the rock that is weathered by the waters that slowly pour over it, chipping away at its surface, creating tiny holes for the water to rush through until finally the rock breaks, I broke.
We all break in some ways. We are all individuals and multi-faceted. Not just in looks with different eye colors, different hair colors and different body shapes, but inside with different emotions, dreams, strengths and weaknesses. The inner core, higher self, soul, or whatever you want to call it or perceive it to be will not rest silently through life. It struggles daily to become a part of us. It’s there to help you, heal you and make you whole. But sometimes before you become whole you have to break.
I broke sitting at a table with a glass of water and hundreds of pills in front of me. I took them by the hands full, sometimes gagging as they didn’t want to go down. I was fifteen years old and life was so ugly I no longer wanted to be a part of it. You should know that a family member watched me take those pills. A family member that said “I hope you know what you’re doing” and then went off to finish the last of the beer in the refrigerator. I finished all the pills and lay down to sleep. I think that was the first time in my life I prayed. Not to live, but for God to forgive me. I was a failure. I’d wanted to be a rock, but the pain was just too great. I couldn’t be a rock.
I woke up several hours later looking into the eyes of a kindly old doctor that had pumped my stomach and was pouring IV liquids into my body. My brother had found me when he came home from work and saw the empty pill bottles. He took me to the hospital which at that time wasn’t really a hospital but an old doctor’s office with a few beds. The real hospitals were in other cities. The old man sat by my bedside and we talked. We talked for a long time about life, rocks, living and dying. He made me a promise. He wouldn’t tell my parents what I’d done if I’d promise never to do it again. I gave him that promise never thinking I would keep it, but I did. He set me on a path. Not to find God, because I think he knew simple words weren’t going to help me at that time. God wasn’t something I knew or felt. God was just a word without any underlying bond to save me. Instead he set me on a path to find me.
This is where I should have had my epiphany. God should reached down and wrapped His arms around me and made it all go away. My life should have been one big rose garden with shiny rose colored glasses. It didn’t happen. What did happen was I started studying Shamanism. I started studying nature and I took a good long look at those rocks. I still love rocks. I have my little collection that’s very precious to me. My kids knew I was always a cheap buy for presents—they could give me a rock. It was years later in the forest when I broke again. When the pain overcame me and I finally fell to my knees and cried until there were no tears left. It was then I found myself and that’s when God wrapped his arms around me and let me feel it all. The joy, the love, the light and yes, the pain. I let it go. I realized that what was inside me wasn’t ugly or evil. What was inside me was a tiny seed that was dying from lack of nourishment. A tiny seed that had never felt the waters of life, or the light of love. A tiny seed that was in every way a small child with all the simple wants and needs of every small child—love and acceptance.
I was twenty-two when this happened and ,no, my life didn’t suddenly turn around and get all rose colored, and those shiny glasses didn’t work. I started to church because that was something I needed, but it wasn’t enough. I still didn’t know who I was or why I was here. But I did have something I’d never had before—I had a rock. Something I could stand on that wasn’t going to break or weather with time. A huge solid rock to keep me balanced and on my feet.
I continued my studies in Shamanism and added to that meditation, hypnosis and metaphysical studies. I studied aromatherapy, healing energy, Reiki and everything I could find that had a connection between me and my life. My inner child was finally free and she couldn’t learn fast enough. I started teaching, speaking to others and helping anyone and everyone I could find their own path. I studied psychology and got my degree in counseling. I wanted to save to the world.
Sound like a young Christian? I was in many ways, but not the traditional ways. One thing my journey had taught me was that we each have to follow our own path and it’s impossible to follow that path until you know where the path is and have the inner strength to survive the hills and rapids along that path. That inner strength comes from the core, higher self, soul, or whatever you want to call it. Perhaps just your inner child. You need that part of you, the real you, before you can complete your journey.
I hope you’ll join me tomorrow and the days afterwards as I once again hope to help others find their path through meditation and self-hypnosis or perhaps just in sharing with each other. One thing I learned from studying nature is that one drop of water quickly dries up and passes away, but a group of raindrops creates a stream, a powerful stream that can push past the rocks and branches and travel great distances. We are all raindrops, separate in many ways, and yet when joined together we create a force that can move rocks, trees, and obstacles out of the way to continue our travel down our path of life. For me that path led to God. That was where I needed to be. He became my rock and the foundation for me to build my life on. I can’t tell you where your path will lead you, but if you find yourself along that path, that inner child with so much love and passion, then the journey is well worth it.
Before I end this I want to talk for just a moment about my writing. I prayed a long time before I published my first book. In my eyes it certainly didn’t glorify God. But I wanted to write. I wanted to be an author. I wanted to create characters and stories that entertained. Many people who read my books wonder about the Christian side of me. One reviewer even said my books were about the devil. Well, not really, but my books are not at all what you would expect from a Christian and I don’t recommend them to my Christian friends. They’re all fiction, and yes they contain references to the occult, voodoo, murder, rape, pain and bad language at times. Each of those books has in some way been a type of therapy for me, because each has an underlying theme of good versus evil, and in each you will find that good overcame evil—but there was a price. In my eyes Jesus paid the ultimate price for me to find my path, walk my path and live my life. Good overcame evil. My path to God was different. Much different than most. My characters are in many ways bits and pieces of myself weaved into stories to show the pain, the path, the cost. I believe that all things can be used for good—or evil. It is a personal choice, and only the person traveling that path can make that choice. Some who read my writing will consider it evil. Some will see it as good. I find the same thing in the books I read by other authors. I still enjoy the books. It is not my job or my path to judge others or the path they take through life and where it leads. I think my job in life is to share and help others to share so that the path we follow in life isn’t so intolerable, so lonely and so hard to find.
Have a personal experience you wish to share? I’d love to hear from you. And no, my life still isn’t perfect–if you read yesterday’s article of “Is my anger causing my depression, or is my depression causing my anger?” then you know I’m still struggling at times. Still walking my path. But I’m not alone.
Through the path of life I have met many people.
Some have made me smile.
Some have made me cry.
But each of them have been a part of making me who I am.