Not so tough afterall October 10, 2008
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As I was writing about my experiences in New Delhi, something dawned on me. I always thought of myself as someone being tough because of my upbringing. I grew up on a Farm…I watched animals get slaughtered…I was raised with brothers who were rough on me…I was taught how to use a bow and arrow and how to shoot a gun before I was ten…I’ve gone 4-wheeling and driven a tractor…I’ve built a fort in the woods and changed the oil in my car. I learned the art of taekwondo and found a love for kick-boxing. I moved to Japan without knowing the language and traveled around the world. I camped in the woods and cooked on a grill. I wrestled boys and played basketball in heels. I was hit in the face with snowballs and shot in the back with a bee-bee gun. I was raised in an environment where people thought I had to tough and “get over things” instead of “feeling things.”
I felt like my heart was ripped out of my chest when my best friend in the whole world moved away. I was seven years old and felt more alone than ever the day her family left. I was laying in my bed crying and wanted someone to come tell me it was going to be okay, but instead I was told to “get it together” and clean up my room…that crying wasn’t going to bring her back. I was met with a similar reaction when my dad died. I was fourteen years old and absolutely devastated. I needed to grieve, feel and honor my feelings, but was told to be strong instead. Nobody seemed to be able to handle my raw emotion so I cried alone behind closed doors in the dark of night.
I remember my brothers use to say, “don’t mess with my sister…she’s tougher than anyone I know.” I never really believed it, but it became my identity. I wanted to be a lover, not a fighter. I didn’t want to beat anyone up. I didn’t want to be tough. I didn’t want to “get over it.” I just wanted to be myself…my sensitive loving self.
I didn’t like confrontation or things that made people hurt. I didn’t like things that were dirty or messy. I didn’t like foul smells or musty odors. I didn’t like creepy crawling things in the night. I liked things that were pleasing to the senses. I liked pretty things and girly things. I liked sweet things and things that made you smile. My heart was tender and full of love for life yet I lived my whole life trying to be this tough girl because that’s who everyone made me out to be.
I went to a 3rd World Country thinking I would be okay because I was a tough girl, but I wasn’t okay and I wasn’t “tough,” but it didn’t make me a weak person. I was still strong, determined, and resilient…just not “tough” in the way that might enable someone to endure the physical unpleasantries and hardships of traveling around a developing country where there weren’t a lot of comforts of home.
I didn’t need to be tough in that way. It’s not me and it feels really good to be able to see and honor a different side of myself. What can I say? I like nice things and I enjoy being comfortable. It’s not to say I can’t endure because I’ve lived through a lot of suffering and pain, but I’ve worked hard to get to where I’m at and I like the sweeter things in life and I enjoy being pampered. I don’t have to go to a poor city to meditate and grow spiritually. I can do the same thing in Mexico on a beautiful serene beach with mystical sunrises and sunsets. It’s not to say I wouldn’t go back to India…I would probably just skip over the poor cities and go straight to the mountains.
It’s exciting to know I can now honor parts of myself that have been denied for so many years. It’s amazing how we can become and behave in ways characteristic of those who had the most influence during our formative years or how we can get stuck in patterns like thinking we have to suffer in order to grow. We become what we are told or what is expected of us. Self-realization is about honoring your true self and being comfortable with being you…the real you. It’s liberating and freeing in a way I can’t even describe.
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