When I awoke this morning there was suddenly a memory of what had transpired in my sleep. It did not match my dreams. I am becoming use to this phenomenon, though. What I need to know will be revealed when I need to know it.
My guide kept saying to me, “You are beautiful”. I rejected it. “I don’t feel beautiful”, I told him.
Message: There is something for you to inspect. It is the core of your refusal to love yourself. If you can see what is there – why it is there – then it can be released and you can love yourself, all of yourself, again.
Memory, February 20, 2016: On this day I remember looking at my body and being amazed by it and its beauty. It was like I had not really looked at my body. Ever. This day was also the day I accidentally found old photographs that had been taken when I was 19 years old. They were in the nude (blush) and had been returned to me by my ex-husband probably because his new wife found then and was mortified. lol I decided to look at a few of them and realized I had not changed even after having three babies! How is that even possible? Woah! I’m 39 with the body of a 20 year-old. Cool!
Another memory: My husband grabs me from behind. He does this often. He does this playfully, to show his affections and attraction to me. I push him away. I am overcome with an uncomfortable feeling. I don’t want him to find me attractive. It is a feeling I have had a long time. I don’t like that I react and feel this way. It is not me.
Memory from age 10-11: My family is swimming together at a friend’s pool. My mom comments on my chest area. She says, “I can see where your boobs will be already. This means you will have bigger ones than I did. I am jealous already!” I retract from this completely. I am thinking, “Boobs? I don’t want boobs!” There comes with this a complete rejection of the label of “woman” and possessing the body of a woman. I don’t want to be a woman!
Memories from middle school: I remember all the unwanted comments I received from both girls and boys at this time in my life. In 6th grade, even though I was the youngest in my age group, I was already an A cup. Girls were always commenting on how “lucky” I was to have boobs. Boys older than me would make comments that were inappropriate.
By 7th grade I had the body I have now. I was 12 years old! Girls kept commenting on my body. I remember being in the dressing room with 8th grade girls. They were so much older and mature it seemed. They made comments and joked about my body. Why did they do that? I would get dressed/undressed in the bathroom stall to hide from them. When I came out they would make snarky comments like, “Why are you hiding in there?”
It was the same with boys. On the school bus they would ask me to show them by boobs. I hated it. Some would comment on how large they were. They were a C-cup but on my tiny frame they looked big. I hated my boobs! Another girl would show her boobs to them. I was mortified! All this in the back of the bus. I never wanted to get home faster than that school year. I tried to sit away from the back of the bus but always got chastised for it so ended up in the very back seat with those older boys.
I remember looking in the mirror at my body and hating it, especially my breasts. I use to fantasize about not having breasts. I wanted to be the old me – the tomboy. I climbed trees all the way until my 12th year. Then it was “unladylike” so I stopped. My favorite thing to do was fish. Other girls didn’t do this. I stopped fishing – convinced myself that I didn’t like it. I loved nature and being outside. Other girls wanted to put on make-up and stare at boys. I was not interested but followed along. I started hating boys because they no longer saw me as an equal – as me. They saw me as a woman – as a sexual object.
Memory from 1988 – I was at Disney World with my sisters and my Dad. We stayed at the Dolphin hotel. It was brand new and had it’s own water park. When we went to the water park I needed a new swimsuit. My Dad let me buy one in the park. I chose a bikini. My first ever. When I came out in my bikini I felt naked and exposed. My Dad saw me and stared at me. He said, “Well, well. Look who’s all grown up.” He kept staring at me and I recognized the feeling coming from him. It was the same feeling all those boys at school and on the school bus sent me. I hated that feeling! And now my Dad was sending that same feeling to me! I shrunk away from him and ran off to swim, trying to focus on the water rides and avoid the stares of all men I encountered. I never looked at my Dad the same way again. He was one of them now.
Memory of past life: When I was in my first year teaching I was blown away by the beauty of my female African American students. It brought back a memory of a past life when I looked like them. So beautiful! If I could be in any female body it would be that of a black woman. I assume it comes from that life – I was petite and naturally beautiful and had such a great network of friends. It occurred to me that I compared my current appearance to that life, that body.
Memory from 2004-2005: I was “dating” a guy and going to marry him. It was set up as a marriage of convenience. I help you, you help me. He fell in love with me. I loved him, but not in that way. I could not accept all of him. I could not accept his appearance. I tried. Oh, I tried! I knew it was wrong of me to reject him only because of his looks. So I tried to force myself to accept that part of him. I failed miserably and ended up hurting him horribly. I despaired over my inability to unconditionally love him. I hated that my own body rejected him! It seemed physiologically impossible to be attracted to him. I realized later that he was teaching me about myself – that I had this same reaction, this same rejection, of my own body.
There are so many more memories that surface. All of them with beliefs attached to them. The lesson in all this is that to love one’s self fully you must love all of your Self, even the “flaws” you perceive. This is just a body we put on. It is temporary. It is not us.
And behind all of this is my beliefs of what it means to be a woman. All the lives in which my female form was abused and used by men. No wonder I felt such horror when I realized I was going to become a woman. Yuck!
So much to absorb so early in the morning. I am being warned to not become too attached to my human form. To let go of the restrictions and beliefs that come with it. I find this assignment a bit overwhelming. Impossible, in fact.