I cannot remember from my past the feeling of being safe, safe in my environment and safe in whom I am.Maybe I was at some point at that was lost in conditions that I could not remember. Not feeling safe manifested by overcompensating to feel accepted by crossing my own boundaries and by labeling me and bench-marking against an ideal, more comfortable for my family that I was.
The healing process to feeling safe again was long and had many turnarounds and repeats. In some moments I felt safe and in my own power and value and in others I did not. And I got to know myself better in each of those moments.
This morning I had a pretty different moment of it. One in which I could see I can make a difference in my own life by combining creativity, rituals and healing. And I am a storyteller. My imagination runs pretty wild and that is a part of healing, stories blocked us in the past (events retold by our memories that are part fictional and stories), stories can heal us. I also felt I was safe and what made me safe was embracing my need for solitude. Solitude that opened the opportunities to learn. I am one of those that learns alone, from books, from documentaries, from stories. Solitude has been more of a blessing in my life than the curse I made it up to be. And I am safe and have been without acknowledging it for a very long time.