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No more. Enough. Stop. These are all words and phrases flooding my mind at present. Every part of my being screams out for rest. Fatigue takes the place of passion. At last my final effort seems inevitable: Surrender.

Nothing is up to me except for my interpretation. All “plans” hit brick walls. Every shift, both figurative and literal, brings me back to my knees. Pity is not what arises to describe my current status. No. Not pity. Cessation is more apropos. Asking how many times a heart may break before it stops beating seems closer to be being answered. From the “end,” must my new beginning emerge.

Until that exact moment of clarity, listening shall be my sole task. Years of searching and self-imposed quests bring me to my present choice: Stop or start once more? Only one thought beckons my mind’s focus: “I’m done with my story of ‘not enough.'”

Messages of not measuring-up met me without fail during my childhood, teen years, and ushered me into an established role of the never-finding seeker as an adult. I became comfortable in my chameleon skin. Whatever a male demanded of me to become, became my new definition of self.

Staring into a mirror revealed the antithesis of “reflection.” It was more “projection” of what I felt required to display in order to fulfill a man’s expectations. Whether it was romantic, platonic or, professional, a man’s attention towards me directed my decisions. Anytime I chose any decision without considering a man’s approval, my inner compass spun into a chaotic spire of frenzy.

“Who am I without meeting a man’s needs?” I wondered these eight words with absolute devotion to the posing of them and yet merciless guilt over never forming a succinct reply. Sure, I tried-on various “skins” over the years. Let’s see…I’ve been a “would-be” lawyer, political scientist, doctor, physical therapist, schoolroom teacher, Pilates teacher, psychologist, profiler, real estate agent, actress, model, energy healer, coach, business woman, wife, girlfriend, fiancé, an almost-mother, and most recent, a writer.

Each role received my utmost focus and attention until the moment I feared I’d failed in some way, no matter how seeming “inconsequential.” Yes, perfection was the cruel “not-so-secret” lure of my journey to a lasting identity. If only I could become perfect in some role, then it might become a part of me, rather than apart from my being. Maybe if I found the perfect fit, I’d finally fit into this world that never felt home to me. Perhaps I’d merge with my re-emerging true self enough to no longer allow my visage to waver to the whimsy of a man’s musings.

For the past year I’ve delved into the deepest crevices of past limitations to unearth the cause of my habituated helplessness. My past struggles with the firm grasp of indecision chose to define my identity as both permeable and impermanent. During my self-imposed exile to unmask the ruse of “choicelessness” I remembered the power of choosing the opposite of disempowerment.

However, just as quick as the memory emerged, it slinked back into the void of unconsciousness. Every instant presented a conscious decision between empowerment or disempowerment. These are the only two states that exist within each choice. It took every aspect of awareness to stay present.

The “easy” route is to “do” as I’ve done before. The work arises when I choose to “undo” all past conditioning and thought processes about who I am and what my identity means to me.  I waver between occupying an emotional “Hell” or “Heaven” every moment. Contrary to popular belief, you can’t have one foot in one and one foot in the other. You are either “all-in” or “not at all.” Following that logic, I was either fully consenting or “not at all” to give away my power to men in the past.

No one held a gun to my head. I chose to be disempowered. Regardless of what trauma befell me in the past, it was up to me to write the next chapter of my life as a solid heroine with firm, established roots of self awareness and esteem. It can’t be too late. It’s never too late…right? Of course it’s not.

Come along with me on my journey from rudderless to being back on-course. Perhaps my story will remind you of the ever-presence of your empowered role as a conscious decison-maker. Your only prerequisite to turn the page is answering the following question in the affirmative: “Are you ready to set the course of your inner journey with the gentle guidance of consciousness as your sole compass?”

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Stay tuned for the rest…link for purchase of whole book text to be provided soon.

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