You deserve to become loved without having to hide the parts of your self you think are unlovable.
These days I turn 51.
Four basic words. And yet, our heart flutters like a type, and I really feel something akin to… fear. I have lied about my age for so long which i feel as if I’ m pulling off several armor of approval. I fear merely “ out” myself for being over a specific age, I will suddenly be deemed, unworthy, unattractive, unrelatable even unlovable.
As I type. I recognize how crazy plus superficial it sounds. Also i realize how true it feels.
Allow me to explain.
I had been told to start lying about my age group at 26.
I worked in the entertainment industry in TV and Radio stations Broadcasting with some little acting work added too the mix here and there. As a woman for the reason that field at that time, age, experience, and wisdom weren’ t appreciated. The qualities associated with youth, vitality, energy, and attractiveness had been important and regarded as “ marketable”. (It took me a long time to understand they these qualities are not mutually bar each other).
And so began a decades long profession of lying. I personally use the word “ career” literally and figuratively.
However , I wasn’ t simply lying at work or at auditions. I was lying about our age to close friends, acquaintances, dates.
The more I lied, the more I thought THE LIE that when I revealed the real age people’ s perception of me would change for the worse.
As I started to unravel the neurosis that I had built myself, I realized that we all hide the things about ourselves that we think will make people perceive us as “ less than”.
The hidden parts can be actual literal things… like our own thighs, our salary, our age. They can also be qualities plus characteristics that we think make us not worth, like our insecurity, our anger, our mental health issues.
As I started pulling the hanging thread on this jumbled ball of myself, the more I shook loose. I realized that even though my age has been what I was overtly hiding from the planet, it was just a regarding so many other things I had been hiding, first and foremost through myself.
Therefore began what I want to call the dissection process. The slicing apart and examining myself with the accuracy of a surgeon as well as the compassion and gentleness of a nurse.
Finding old injuries, old blocks, older triggers was a slower and tedious procedure. Once I discovered what these areas were, I moved on towards the slow and painful process of figuring out where these issues stemmed from. The final step was recovery. Healing was also slow, tedious, and unpleasant, yet invaluable.
Healing involved forgiving myself for the attributes and things that I believed made me “ less than” or lacking and recognizing that they were not defects, just parts of being human.
My mate passed away at 37. My brother died six months ago at fifty eight.
I now know age is something to be grateful for, to be celebrated, admired, lauded. Each day is truly a present.
My “ age hang-up” had been just a symptom.
I also now realize that the things each one of all of us hides under the custom-designed, impenetrable armor are also things to be grateful for.
The purpose of our lives, as I see it, would be to explore, understand, plus tap into the gorgeous wholeness that we are usually. Those “ gentle spots” and perceived shortcomings are in which the real work begins. Not in “ fixing” what we think to be the problem, however in realizing that there are simply no problems, only possibilities for growth.
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