“Come on back, Elizabeth!” Her voice wafts across the playground, tinged with … anger? … disappointment? … frustration? … resignation? It doesn’t matter. Relief and shame surge through my little body as I trot back, eyes focused firmly on my feet as I shuffle past her and my angry teammates. Five years old and already the whole school knows I will be the last child chosen for any team in perpetuity. I am not fast, I am not strong, I am not brave. I am a disappointment … again.
Let’s go back 5 minutes? 10 minutes? An eternity!
Below me: Playground dirt. Above me: A metal rung. Beside me: Voluminous dust clouds trailing swiftly racing shoes. Strong bodies propelling themselves effortlessly skyward. Metal clanging as sweaty hands slap the topmost bar. Bare skin squeaking against each pole in fearless descent. Jubilant shouts celebrating confidence, mastery, camaraderie. Behind me: Demanding voices prodding me to move, climb, hurry up! Within me: I lift my eyes skyward again and stretch my left hand up, up, up in a futile attempt to prove my worth to … her? … my classmates? … myself? It doesn’t matter – focus! Don’t look down, don’t look down, don’t look down! My left hand snaps back down, gripping the closest bar. I give up. Something is wrong with me.
“Come on back, Elizabeth!” Her voice wafts across the playground, tinged with … anger? … disappointment? … frustration? … resignation? She has given up. And it matters – a lot. Because I love her and I want her to love me. But something hidden and powerful dwells in me, rendering me fundamentally unworthy of love. Today she and I both know that I am not strong enough, not fast enough, not brave enough to be loved ………
“Come on back, Elizabeth!” My voice calls across the years to past me, filled with … yes … kindness … acceptance … compassion … love. I never gave up. And that matters – more than anything. Peace flows as the story-teller and the meaning-giver speak words that I wish someone had spoken long ago:
“Little One, you just had a fear storm. When a fear storm comes, your brain and your body feel trapped by scary stories that try to tell you who you are and who you are not. Those are make-believe stories. Those are feeling stories.
“You felt fear flash every time you thought about climbing higher, you felt fear crash when you thought those were angry voices booming around you, you felt fear pour out tears when you thought you didn’t fit in, and you felt fear howl with despair and loneliness when you thought you were unable to please someone special.
“The only true story is that you matter, simply because you are. And it helps your brain and your body when you use ‘I am’ statements like this: I am experiencing … I am thinking … I am telling myself … I am believing… I am feeling …
“I’m going to help you find a feeling umbrella to carry in your heart for the next time you have a fear storm. I want you to close your eyes and imagine a time when you are feeling cozy and safe and loved. Have your brain turn it into a movie memory for feeling every day. That’s really, really, really important, so remember to be feeling your movie memory every day. When another fear storm comes along, trying to scare your brain and body into believing a story about who you are or are not, open your feeling umbrella in your heart and hold tight until your brain and body remember that they are feeling trapped by make-believe stories.”
I am Elizabeth, Biz, Liz, Beth, and I matter – the only true story there is.
Biz Has a Blog! 