Earlier that day, I had written a very powerful essay. I would almost say that the piece of writing was "channeled"; I was barely conscious of what I was saying, and it presented a powerful vision of who I am and what my future is meant to be about. I printed it out and threw it in the drawer next to my bed, realizing I would need time to make sense of it.
The reaction started when I turned off my light that night and tried to fall asleep. I can't describe the sensation any better than to say that quite literally, I was suddenly tumbling through a layer of self-loathing, then through a black hole in space, with no stars or planets anywhere nearby and no sense of gravity. Next I experienced something like a multidimensional equivalent of the scene in The Wizard of Oz where Dorothy faces the fuming, smoking, rattling, raging "Great and Powerful Oz," only I wasn't standing on firm ground with friends and my little dog Toto. I was alone, I was nothing, and I was in nothing.
The message from "my" wizard was, essentially, this: "How dare you? How (bleeping) dare you? How dare you try to be a person? How dare you have an identity that has no reference to me? How dare you presume to take up space on this planet? How dare you create your own individuality? How dare you express yourself and tell the truth? How dare you hope for the smallest iota of support or respect or income from anything you do? How dare you hope to experience love? How dare you dream or envision your own future? How dare you take energy or attention away from me? You are nothing. You do not exist." Etc. And for several hours, that was true.
The thing is, I felt powerless to move or call a friend or anything. I finally fell asleep, perhaps hoping I just wouldn't wake up. I think I've long sensed this hopeless energy deep in my being but just couldn't fully face it before and didn't want to do it now, either. But I did wake up around six a.m. the next morning, felt the emptiness inside me again and began to panic. Suddenly I remembered the essay sitting in the drawer not four inches from my head, and understood that I had had the power (or had accessed the power) to write it, and something in me recovered from this extraordinary tirade, and inwardly replied:
"How dare I? How dare I? I dare because I am courageous. I dare because I am a valuable person in my own right. I dare to take up space on this wondrous planet and do the work I was destined to do! I dare to be unique. I dare to be a beautiful, powerful woman. I dare to tell the truth. I dare to believe that someone out there believes in me and wants me to succeed. I dare to dream and use my valuable insight, intuition and wisdom. I dare to draw attention to myself and not just be the empty space around men's comfort and achievements. I dare to thrive as me. I dare to love. I dare to exist."
These words were like ladder rungs, magically transporting me up and out of the black hole. I have felt shaky for days, and even felt quite sick over the weekend. But I have survived a brutal direct experience of the non-Love that I guess has been deep in me all along and I've been getting closer and closer to facing. I get it; this is the root of my failure to thrive. This is the reason decades of effort, openness, flexibility, "creative visualization" and affirmation never helped me toward meaningful long-term fulfillment or achievement. All along, my ear was tuned to the tirade. In the intervening days, I think I have come to a place of recalibration. I know that the truth of me is what I say it to be, what my heart chooses to listen to now, not this vile message that has repeatedly sent me off-course
Clearly this experience was deeply personal, at least partly reflecting a family inheritance that let's just say isn't money. But in the light of the MeToo movement, I just cannot help but wonder how many other women have been shaped by the constraints of "How dare you?" How many other women have had similar words walling them off from their true selves? How many other women in the last year or two have traveled through a dark night of the soul, only to come through to the other side ready to speak their truth? The fact is, we do dare. We dare in ever-increasing numbers. We exist. And the recalibration of society has already been historic.
Compared to the journey I traveled last week, being back on the beach is a piece of cake. And I'm not sure if it's just my imagination, but it looks to me like the waters out there are calming down. I'm still not quite ready to make repairs on the boat and re-enter the stream, but I have to believe that was the tsunami of tsunamis, and perhaps the worst is over now. Today I feel far stronger than a week ago. Actually, I feel far stronger than ever.
