childhood idols

It's been filtering through my mind lately, this though about my idols growing up.  It was cool to be hard.  I don't think I ever was as a kid; I was soft, affectable, feelings easily hurt.  But I aspired to be that gal that was super fun and witty, yet had the ability to be unmarred by other peoples stupid actions, sort of rising above it all.  Later that morphed into trying to emulate the really selfish people.  Madonna I worshipped because of her hard edged self-centeredness.  I believed that if you acted like you deserved the best treatment, you would get it.  Unfortunately, my childhood had already preordained that I should play the victim role; the misunderstood and blamed one, the scapegoat.  I perpetually laid myself down to be walked on, so that I could recreate patterns from my childhood that were comfortable I guess.  Each time I would follow this by blaming myself for not being hard enough.

How many years of my life did I spend trying to be someone I am not?  Most of my life.  Somehow having a child allowed me to open up to the possibility that I am already who I am supposed to be, inside, buried underneath so many years of self effacement.  I look at my child and I see... I see a beautiful, amazing thing that is strong and delicate at the same time.  I look at him and I think of all the shame based identities I took inside of myself, and I think how could I have done that, if I was as glorious and amazing a child as this child is, how could anyone have wanted to destroy my spirit?

In my soul I can feel what is real truth.  In my heart I can feel what connects us all.  My sons spirit glows with love, he loves that he is so loved, as he should, as should we all.