Speaking up is hard. Mom told me I was an “observer” as a kid. I watched and saw what got the most approval; for girls – it was the polite, agreeable behaviors. Go along to get along. This and other fabulously warped and twisted lessons were digested in my formative years. Deep protective roots were planted – roots that caught and squeezed my spirit decades past their use by date.
It’s rare that I let people inside my introverted world. Afraid you won’t like me and my fierce demons. And I want to be liked – most of us do. So I put on a mask – became a master people pleaser. But boy do I admire the folks who are truly themselves – damn the torpedoes! They don’t care if I like them … and generally they’re the ones I like the most. Quite the conundrum.
Being female in Corporate America these past 30 years didn’t do much to loosen my disguise. Toeing the line and fitting in got me more interesting projects and promotions – to a point. The glass ceiling is real. Did what I could to crack it – it was harsh going and undervalued. Time to pass that torch. So buhbye nine-to-five.
There were some interesting shifts after my “retirement.” Dumped the hair dye, hung up the business casual, pitched the alarm clock and created space for something new to emerge. Some things were good (yoga, dance, a little writing) – some not so much (lost our sweet schnauzer Molly and old-lady cat Cleo). Then there was the appalling election and its result; which wrecked me.
Since then I’ve spent a lot of time on the couch, and with my sangha. Miraculous thing the couch . . . alchemical. And my sangha; they know me, support me, nourish me – undeterred by my insecurities. While it looked like not much was going on – something was shifting.
Now it’s time to stand up and speak up. That little girl–she’s fading; the ambitious office worker–liberated. Delicious, fascinating new insights emerge every day. I’ve got lots to do; hopefully with kindness and compassion. If you don’t like it – or me, that’s not my business.
♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥
“Speak what you think today in hard words and tomorrow speak what tomorrow thinks in hard words again, though it contradict every thing you said today.” ― Ralph Waldo Emerson, Self-Reliance
But I do have a sphere of influence; its size is irrelevant. This must be where I start; with my family, my friends, my neighborhood. It’s not hard to see how an act of kindness makes someone’s day. Or the value of speaking up when bullied, despite a hammering heart. Who knows the ripple these acts might have. What I say; my actions – are my responsibility. Let me be accountable.
These are the people who’ve walked in my shoes and know what’s possible. They show me how drama, vanity and discontent are often “festering sores” – no matter how close I hold them. Possibly . . . Probably, taking off the armor and letting in the sun “wouldn’t hurt a bit.” 
Thinking along practical lines, if I genuinely want to release these anchors, knowing I have them and why is helpful; but wanting to drop them? It’s complicated.
A friend of mine once played electronic war games. When I said my preference (total judgment) was “to build a peaceful world” – she said; yeah, ran that scenario and was promptly annihilated. Right. The bully takes advantage. I saw it growing up, at school, at work – now in the government. Self-preservation kicks in. Not everyone wants the world I want. But there I go judging again.
ighing you down; drop it into the flames: Let it go”
This work, my resentments, the hateful, contentious election – and some deeply buried festering wounds all took their toll. I was mad; Big Mad. After the election – I was hysterical. Today I’m resolute.
As I walked into Byron Katie’s book Loving What Is, I embraced her notion of “Staying in your own business.” She says: