I was (kind of) a ballerina on Halloween last Monday. I am (kind of) a ballerina all the time. Because I was a ballerina for a really long time. And so being a ballerina is one of the ways I think of who I am. I have been reflecting on this for many years. On what it means to lay on different definitions of me. And whether they are me.
I have been reflecting on this for a long time and have discovered a deep appreciation for my stories as a place where my intuition and creativity live. This is where I process and learn. This is where I see what fits. And after these many years of exploring, I have gained a really good handle on when I am me and when I am my stories and when each part of me should be the me that shows up. The balance is there
But recently something new came up and it took me by surprise. It started as I shared a self-reflection, and what was mirrored back was an ah ha moment for me. And then a necessary evaluation of the stories that I create around the people around me.
I know that just as I lay on different definitions of me, I also do this to others. And again, this creativity around those around me often times is the opportunity to explore the possibility of you. What I did not know was that there are times when I project onto others these stories of who they are, not as a creative exercise in discovery, but because these stories are what I need others to be. For me.
And now that I am starting to break this down, I am realizing what a terrible disservice I do when the stories get so big and the expectations of how I want these people I love to be become really important. And I am realizing I have a lot invested in this.
I have a lot invested in the stories I have created because I have a lot invested in my needs. It feels narcissistic. And is self-centered. It is certainly self-serving.
I want to make amends. I want to show up to the people in my life who I have projected my needs onto and created a story about, and I want to tell them how sorry I am for that.
But there’s more, because in this process of making amends, I realize I have to make amends to me.
I want to make amends to others. Because I love them deeply and laid a lot of stuff on them to carry. Even if they didn’t know this. (energetically they always knew this)
And I have to make amends to me.
To say to myself I forgive you for the need you laid on others. I forgive you for the disrespect of others. I forgive myself for the projection of the stories I created because I am not able to sit just with me.
I forgive me as I take the fiction, the illusion, the stories—and I see them. And I start to break them down. So that I can differentiate when my thoughts are creativity and an imagining of possibility. And when they become expectation as the balance shifts and the intention is heavy.
This is where my work is now. I know how to show up without my tutu. Now it’s time to let go of the expectation that you will always dance in my ballet.
Mother, Wife, Friend, Sister, Daughter, Dancer, Rower, Runner, Dog and Cat lover.