An uncomfortable truth

You know someone has spoken the truth when your cheeks go hot. Perhaps you blush because it is a compliment and you haven’t yet learnt to take one of those gracefully. Or maybe, you feel a bit of heat in your cheeks because what is said rings true. So true, it has reached down deep inside you. Grabbed your soul. Given it a squeeze. And perhaps shaken it a little.

This happened to me recently.

I didn’t expect to be writing this today. But yesterday, after I sat in stillness. The sun on my eyelids. Almost this entire blog post poured out of me onto the pages of my notebook, meant for my meditation reflection. I guess to process this uncomfortable truth.

About a week ago, my daughter stopped me in my tracks. Gave me a little reality slap. Some of you will know, 15 year-olds are very good at this. They have made it almost an art form. It is a skill that peaks at about this age. I was a master at it, when I was fifteen. And now, the universe is having its way with me. Balancing the books a little. Placing me on the receiving end of what I used to give out. Humbling. And well, I did ask for humble.

We were heading off for a walk with the dog. We had just set off. Just stepped onto the footpath from our driveway, when I shared something in what I thought was innocent conversation. And whack! My daughter answers, ‘Mum, you like acknowledgment don’t you?’ I stopped walking for a second, quickly composed myself and then denied there was any truth in this. ‘No I don’t.’ I answered immediately. She went on to tell me, she didn’t mean it rudely. That it was just an observation. I changed the subject.

Although the mask muffled my gasp, hid the quiver of my lip and shielded the view of some of the heat rising in my cheeks. I had hidden nothing from my daughter or myself in my reaction. My body language. The tone of my voice. My immediate denial. With those telling three words, I knew. Even if I didn’t want to admit it. Anything we reject so quickly often holds truth.

A truth that is like sitting on prickles. A truth that is like placing your hand for a second under boiling water. It hurts. It startles. And you immediately retreat.

A couple of days later, when she was torturing me lovingly as my fitness coach. After we had, in the break between our exercises, completed our one minute plank (which she considers the rest between the workout reps) I pointed out I had actually got through the full minute that time. Without missing a beat, she picked up the weights for the next set of exercises and pointed out that there it was. Proof I liked acknowledgment. I puffed a lot doing the next set. My cheeks bright red. As her niggling words settled somewhere deep inside me. To pull out later in private. To examine. Look for answers. Scratch.

As I said in yesterday blog post, my writing is like my meditation. And just like in meditation, things turn up. Niggles which have been sitting deep in your body ignored, come to the surface. And that is exactly what happened when I unexpectedly shared yesterday, in a small sentence, that my daughter had said I need acknowledgement. The words tapped out of my fingers. Before I knew it, they were there. On the screen. In front of me. Daring me to delete them. I didn’t.

I have been on a journey of reclaiming my self worth. Of understanding, practising and sharing with others that we are each ultimately responsible for our own self worth. Hence, the word ‘self’ before ‘worth’. You cannot escape it. And yet, so often we hand over our self worth to others. To our loved ones, with the hope they will hold it carefully. Treat it with gentle forgiveness. We even hand it over to unworthy caretakers. Strangers. Anyone willing to take the handball. So often, we allow our self worth to be determined by others.

Yesterday, as I paused. Sitting outside. A gentle breeze playing with my hair. I realised I wasn’t as far along the journey as I thought. As I asked myself why I look for acknowledgment, a truth landed in my lap: I allow others to determine my self worth through their acknowledgement. Their belief in me is needed. My belief in me, isn’t enough.

I am grateful to my writing for reminding me I have work to do. I am grateful to my meditation for giving me clarity. And I am grateful to my daughter for bringing the truth into the daylight.

And so begins the journey of noticing when I have, or am about to, hand over my self worth to others in this way. Of when and how I seek acknowledgment. To pause before the transaction is complete. Or if it is done, to reflect afterwards, how next time I might keep my self worth, for me.