Getting Real

Who Am I?

Have you ever sat down and silently pondered that question? I mean, really allowed the thought to seep into your consciousness to the point you’re confronted with your deepest truths. What you see and acknowledge when you strip the layers can be rather unsettling at first, but when you push past the flesh and bone, and give your undivided attention to your essence, the feelings that erupt are indescribable.

It’s at this moment you come into the full realisation that you are nothing that the outer-world sees, and everything that lives and thrives within you.

In January 2007 I walked out on a life I’d been living for over a decade. It was a life that flourished beneath the oppressive hands of brutality and domination. I had left that world behind with no inkling of who I was, who I could be, or indeed, if I was even worthy of happiness.

In that marriage, I wasn’t permitted to be myself. Every remark, thought, idea and action I’d made was inevitably met with harsh criticism and condemnation, and sometimes, a hard slap on the face. I was living on the edge of my nerves, and slowly suffocating as a result. My then husband had no idea who I really was, and he had no interest in discovering what I could offer as an individual either.

I believe even the most difficult relationships exist solely for our personal growth. Sometimes it might feel just the opposite, though. What can you possibly learn about yourself when living under such repressive conditions? Surely those relationships hinder your growth?

Maybe. I guess.

I once knew of an elderly couple that lived in my neighbourhood. They were widely known around town because the old husband severely abused his wife. The abuse had been going on for decades, through the raising of their family and the eventual arrival of grandchildren. Nobody could understand why that little old lady stayed with her monster of a husband. He was cruel and unjust, and he treated her worse than their family dog.

The thing that stuck out in my mind the most, though, was that when they drove past in their car, the husband would force his wife to sit in the back seat. She wasn’t worthy enough to claim the front seat beside him. In his mind, she was beneath him. So, he’d drive his car down the street with his ego belted in, and his thin frail wife hunched behind him in the back seat. It was plain to see that this old man had accomplished his objective – he’d broken her spirit.

How does that make you feel? That a human being could view another in such a derogatory light? That a person compiled of the same flesh and blood as you and me could dare think he was a superior being and squish the light from another?

I’ll tell you how it makes me feel – saddened. For both of them. There is nothing more tragic than for one person to limit another human being. Such mind-control towards a sensitive person can limit that person for years and can even be compared to murder – spirit murder.

When another person treats you in that way, it is never about you and everything about the way the perpetrator feels about themselves and their view of the world. It’s what you choose to accept to be true that informs your experiences. Can you imagine the internal torment involved in such circumstances? I can. I’ve lived it.

That old lady had suffered at the hands of her husband her entire married life and eventually accepted that to be true for her experience. She felt that she deserved nothing more from life. She was too broken, too hopeless, and too unloved to act on any impulse to change her life, even if she had wanted to. And I’m not talking about the love she didn’t feel from her husband, I’m talking about self-love.

Yet, the life that woman had accepted to be true for herself was the driving force behind the life I eventually rejected. It was her slouching image sitting in the back seat of the car that played in my mind for twelve long years. It was the same image that I vowed not to become. Sometimes, a chosen life of despair has a profound ripple effect far greater than what we realise. For that woman’s heartache and horrific experience, I can only wish her love and give gratitude for the impact it had over mine.

Still, I did not go unscathed, and entered a new life without really knowing who I was or what I wanted. It wasn’t long after that that I felt an underlying pull towards the divinity. When the moments grow silent and stillness is all around, and you are alone, eventually you have to face yourself and travel a path towards the truth.

The future spread out before me like an uncarved road I couldn’t quite envision, and although there were often times that I felt scared, I chose to trust in the part of myself that was real – my soul, my essence. It was the part that connected me to something far greater than myself.

Well, I figured I had no choice really, and I did so with a sense of excitement.  In those early years of awakening to new ideas and self-awareness, I didn’t understand what I was feeling all of the time, but when I discovered new revelations, it was like pure bliss for my soul. I could sense my soul rejoicing as I evolved. I remember opening books and reading the text, and revelling in the euphoric buzz that would ensue as the remnants of the truth resonated within me.

I look back now and I realise I had been standing on the threshold of what would unfold as my own personal spiritual journey. And with every fibre of my being, I understand I couldn’t have reached that level of self-evolution and self-awareness without experiencing the pain and angst of abusive relationships.

I chose to grow from those experiences. I chose myself, and I chose to seek answers to the questions that had always plagued me – who am I, really? I knew there was more, much more, and I wasn’t satisfied with the dense 3D version we face here on the earth plane.

So, what is real?

Real is love, real is what is inside of you.

I am love, and so are you.

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