A follow up to being judged and triggered…

I’m pretty sure it’s a Newton’s law about how an object at rests, stays at rest and an object in motion stays in motion.

I am also pretty sure I am too lazy to look that up, so we will just go with it. πŸ™ƒ

I hadn’t written for a lonnnnnnnng ass time. In this sanctuary of the interweb at least.

I write profusely on my fitness blog in my Facebook group My No Bullshit Fit life. Go peep that baby out. I’m pretty proud how my heart is displayed on those pages.

I put off writing sometimes on here because it takes a lot of time because I put a a shit ton of energy into reflecting on what I wish to say and how I keep my heart open for words to flow from it.

It takes me longer than the average bear to simply sign a card because I legit take the time to pour feeling into it.

Something triggered me pretty fiercely and radically the other day that caused me to dust this baby off, set the pen down on it and have a bad ass jam sesh with words.

And just like that the object was set in motion so here I am, again. πŸ€—

I have had time to digest the situation that went down the other day when the shallow minded, “church going” peeps decided to side swipe me, judge my being and demeanor and continue to stand on my throat until I seemingly crawled back into their shitty ass box apparently everyone needs to live in according to them.

You can take a peep at that other blog to bring you to speed on the deets but the cliff notes were something along the lines that me and my business was going to fail because of who and what I am.

It doesn’t feel good to be judged.

Period.

But what feels worse is knowing that I have fought my entire life to feel confident and comfortable in my skin regardless if it looks NOTHING like anyone else, and being told that’s going to be my demise.

And then worse yet, is having a few bible thumping peeps judge and say that basically everything I fight for for me, and for those around me needs to be burned at the stake and we all need to assimilate.

Like sheeple.

I will not lie to you.

Never have and won’t start now.

I reacted.

STRONGLY to this incident.

I’m talking “fuck this place and all these people, I don’t belong here, let’s do the long distance marriage thing because I want to flutter in an environment where people can walk around free to be outrageously themselves, with purple hair, dread locks, no bras, bare feet and fuck words out the ass…. and simply be accepted” type of reaction.

✌🏽

My knee jerk was to close up shop and wall up again.

But after a bit of time and a (massive) amount of cooling off, I was able to view the situation in a much brighter light.

This was a lesson and a gift.

I’d rather have puppies and diamonds, but hey life lessons, if used properly, are much more valuable. πŸ™ƒ

When I wanted to cut those peeps and wage war on them I wasn’t seeing clearly.

They are not the bad guy…. ish.

I’ll NEVER be fond of fake, judgmental church peeps, but that’s another blog for another day.

These people were merely a vehicle for a wound to surface in me and be addressed.

I speak often about internal work, growth and transformation.

This is what it looks like.

They triggered in me a deep wound where in old life I previously did drugs or ate or did any number of unhealthy things to numb what I SHOULD have allowed myself to gracefully feel, so that I could heal it wayyyyyyyy back then.

But here it is now.

I’m certain I am not the only one guilty of turning into a chameleon in our lives to try and change to people please or be loved because we are so afraid to simply be ourselves and risk not being loved for it.

I can trace my wound back to having a mother that would rather focus her energy elsewhere than love her kids and foster an environment where they grew up confident that they were loved, nurtured, protected and ACCEPTED.

So enter about 33 + years of my life being so fucking unsure about myself I didn’t know what I stood for.

Nothing seemed right because I knew at a deeper level I wasn’t allowing myself to be who I truly am.

I am unique.

As fuck.

And so are ALLLLLLL OF YOU!

But somewhere along the way we lose that.

We quiet ourselves down and make ourselves small to make those around us who are actually the insecure ones, more comfortable.

Well #fuckthat.

It can happen to us in school. Cause let’s be honest that can be a battle ground for some of us.

Bullies.

Groups of shallow minded girls excluding other girls, making fun of them, judging them… because they pile together with numbers which seem like power.

They make the odd girls feel left out and uncertain about themselves and so the slow and methodical breakdown begins.

Then usually when we have had enough of living a life that’s not congruent to who we are, sometimes tripped off by some traumatizing rock bottom, we re-emerge ready to try to be our true, authentic selves.

Again.

Like a rebirth.

But it’s not without trials and tribulations.

Because bullies and shallow minded people that are busy pointing fingers at others instead of looking into their own mirrors, just grow up to be adult sized bullies.

Each time we re-emerge we have the opportunity to be stronger and more sovereign about who we are so that we are more unshakable than in previous versions of ourselves.

So what does this all mean?

It means we need to go back to the root of the wound and rip that fucker out. Because it’s causing some residual damage.

Obviously because I was triggered so terribly the other day.

I know what mine is.

Clear as day.

But I need to look at it with a new perspective and a different lens.

(Acknowledgement, accept, release)

It WASN’T that I was unloveable as a child that dead mom tossed me away like a used sock.

It was simply that she was on a journey to find love for her own wounds and reasons buried within her.

It was never about me or anything I lacked.

Spoiler alert🚨: you will begin to see a common theme of this.

When I would get made fun of and ridiculed in school because I wore blue eyeliner (I stole it because we were poor) and somehow that made me a slut πŸ€”πŸ€”

Which I’ll never quite grasp that, but oh well.

The big group of girls throwing stones all looked alike, dressed alike and I’m fairly certain wanted to make sure they all thought alike. Because I didn’t assimilate, and they had power in numbers, it made ME feel less than and not acceptable for who I was.

But I know that to the depths of my being it was all of THEM that were simply afraid of being who they truly, uniquely were.

So they ganged up.

It was never about me or anything I lacked.

It was about their insecurities.

The list could go on but you get the point.

Altering the lens which we look back and view our life is both transformative and conducive to healing.

Reframing these instances releases the negative, heavy emotional weight from it so that we can pour empowering words and truths into those spaces.

Here’s where it IS about us:

Once we rip out these old wounds from their roots, we need to deal with the here and now.

Am I going to be able to protect myself from monsters out in this world 24/7?

Is Bearded Things always going to be there to protect me like he’s vowed?

Fuck no.

Because each time there’s been an attack he’s not been around.

That’s because to a certain extent WE have to be the ones to stand in our truth when things get hot and make us question everything about ourselves.

I read an amazing book by our sister Brene Brown where talks about braving the wild.

I didn’t fully understand it when I was reading it because I hadn’t gotten to actually step foot in it and live it in real life yet at the time.

But it talks about the path of coming home to our authentic selves and how it can be lonely at times.

And how that loneliness and fear of abandonment and rejection for being authentic can drive some of us back into the line of sheep living as people.

I get it now.

More than ever.

I can honestly say now that I’d rather live alone and authentic than spend one minute of my day vying for the approval of people that don’t appreciate individuality, zest, brilliance, vibrancy or the uniqueness in life that each one of us beautiful souls brings to the table.

This experience has been an invitation for me to make a choice.

To choose toning it down a notch for others or sovereignly picking me, and knowing that if I do I’ll be braving some fucking wild.

I proudly picked me.

Because here I am.

Still.

Profusely using the word fuck and NOT failing at life.

Actually, I’m attracting more beloved peeps that need the light (and cuss words) that I have to offer this world.

There are no mistakes.

God made us to be who we are as we were when HE created us… NOT who society or traumas can sometimes cause us to become.

I want you to pick you too.

In all things.

And I want so badly for us all to be able to take these types of situations and see and use them for what they are…

They are simply polishing us up to be able to stand out more fully, blingy, and sparkly than we ever have before.

I want to shift the dynamic and gain the type of power in numbers that I feel I have been fighting against my whole life.

But I want power in positive, uplifting, supportive, empowering vibes.

The kind where we see another sister get maimed for being herself and we run to the comfort of her so that she is able to get back in her feet faster.

Because I don’t want to lose myself or anyone else to assimilation and conformity.

Each of us has too fucking much to offer this world to help make it sensational and incredible to deny ourselves and others of our zest.

In all my authentic truth and solidarity….

Xoxo

A. Kolar.

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