I’m glad you’re here with me again.  I’ll admit, sharing my hard stuff makes me feel so exposed. But there’s more to tell. Let’s dive in.

In a previous blogpost (The cracking open) I wrote about my re-birth of emotions.

I know. So touchy-feely. I hear you. “Please, can’t we just talk about something fun? Like British movies?” I would actually love to talk about that instead.

But I’m celebrating. I’ve changed inside. In the past year I’ve become a different person. I feel like a cape-wearing superhero with glittery red shoes! Change is hard. Every single superhero had challenges to overcome. We’ve got to go back to the beginning to see mine.

I was born with a shy, quiet temperament. I never rocked the boat or drew attention to myself.  I was hard-wired from birth to keep my internal and external world a peaceful one.

But my home held a vacuum of emotional nourishment. I was given physical care but no emotional care. Like a plant that received water but no light.

I learned very young that my emotional needs would probably not be met. So I did what I had to do – stuffed them down into the deep, dark place. And pretended everything was fine. I convinced myself that everything was fine. But looking back now, I felt unseen, unknown and unvalued in our home and would not have been able to understand why any of those things mattered.

Since there was no example of emotional health to follow, I decided I’d have to rely on myself.  When I was unsure … or something scared me … or upset me I had no one to go to for comfort. I’d ignore those worries and find something else to focus on. How smart was I? Self sufficient, hardened, empty; with thick walls around me for protection. It was so sad.

This state lasted decades. Most emotional language was still foreign to me way into adulthood. There were some feelings I could hang out with all day. Joy, gladness, excitement. You know, all the fun ones.

But why, a few years back, would I freeze inside if a friend vulnerably shared her sadness? Because, even into my 30’s and 40’s I was absolutely clueless about dealing with sorrow. My own was stuffed down too deep.  If someone was mad at me I would, again, freeze. Anger was hard on my peace-loving self. I wanted to disappear or look away at something else. Look away, look away, look away, especially from anger.

The tipping point occurred when I could no longer endure a long-time stress, as I mentioned in my other post. I was done. No more holding my breath and pushing the boulder up a mountain. I WAS DONE.

With help from my executive coach I looked at the pain and loss inside and started to metabolize them. Waking up the feeling part of me has been like learning to walk and talk again. Lots of neural re-wiring had to begin. Like letting new truths sink in:

My needs are important.

I can ask for my needs to be met.

I have permission to have a need.

My feelings matter.

My presence matters.

I can say no.

For me, this was the path to healing and productive growth. I used to be self-sufficient. Now I acknowledge need. I used to be closed off. Now I’m breaking down walls. I used to be completely out of touch with grief and anger. Now they’re becoming my companions. I used to be a pretender that all was “fine”. Now I give myself permission to ask for help.

Did you know that “The most successful leaders are those who know how to ask for their needs to be met?”*  Successful people ask. They don’t look away. Asking is self-care.

Having my needs met in a healthy manner has been fertilizer for my soul. It has unshackled the “me” I didn’t know. And I’m glad to tell you my superhero self is rejoicing.

*quote from John Townshend, founder of The Townshend Institute for Leadership and Counseling.