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Sometimes I mess up.

I say the wrong thing, say it the wrong way, at the wrong time. In the past I have made big mistakes around my choices and/or lack of choices in situations where I clearly should have made a move.

The mistakes, some hugely regrettable and hard for me to forgive are not necessarily the hardest part. For me it is what happens inside of me when I “mess up”.

I’m using the phrase mess up, because that is how it feels in the moment. I am aware at a higher consciousness that there are no mistakes, but lets face it when you are in it, when you hurt someone you love, I think part of taking responsibility is owning it and saying “I effed up.” It makes the other person feel better and lets them know you get it and it lets you know that something needs to change, helping you to hopefully NOT do it again.

For me the hardest part, is the internalization, and great pain I feel when I mess up. I am aware there are two parts in me that enter into a dynamic.

One is the terrorizer/abuser who rants and bashes me for being “bad”, “wrong”, “inadequate” etc. The other is a younger part, a very wounded part of me that takes on all the shame and blame and magnifies it.

This part does not know how to soothe itself, how to look at things with perspective, how to see that it is not so bad after all, that what’s done is done. All this part feels is a deep feeling of being wrong, wrong on a cellular level… born wrong.

Lately, my witness has become stronger which allows me to see what is going on and detaching enough to calm the parties down enough to bring in another part, the loving parent. It gets better each time and sometimes, it proves to be quite difficult.

The truth is there never was anyone to tell me it was okay. There was no one to let me know that people make mistakes and it is not the end of the world. No one to say, you are okay, Stephanie.

Instead each mistake was met with terror, with pain, slaps, spankings, scratches and pure rage spewed directly at me. And so I learned very quickly I had to keep myself in check and if I don’t….something bad will happen. That is why when I stumble, and make a “mistake”  a part of me is horrified and ashamed. I want to crawl under a rock. I want to hide and never come out because I did it “once again”. It is as if I cannot tolerate being in my own skin.

My wounded little girl rises and feels the shame of the transgression. She doesn’t know where to go, what to do to make it better, she is in the helpless state, frozen where there is no one to comfort her.

The healing comes when I am able to step in for her. I am able to step into the gap, the empty space in which she feels so wrong and fill it with love and compassion.  Today, I have the nurturing skills within in me to let her know it is okay and most importantly that SHE is okay.

I am learning to heal her by telling her what she needed and deserved to hear as a child. I am learning how to re-parent myself, an essential part of healing childhood wounds.  Today I let her know it is okay, everyone makes mistakes, it is not the end of the world. I love you anyway and you my love are more than okay.