Misunderstood

I didn’t write this.. Jeff Foster did… But it hit me so hard that I cried and then I pulled on my boots and straighten my shoulders and danced anyway

THE INCREDIBLE JOY OF BEING MISUNDERSTOOD

There are people
who will never understand you,
agree with you,
or even like you.

Mothers. Fathers. Siblings and other family members. Bosses. Employees. Spiritual teachers. Therapists. Clients.

No matter how hard you try. No matter how much you change, rage at them, contort yourself, learn all the magic of this world, and attempt to become exactly what they want and need you to be. No matter how much you fawn and “people please”, they will never accept you, love you, approve of you, validate your path and life choices. They will never celebrate your successes with you, mourn with you, meet you in deep love and intimacy. They will never get to know you, the real you, the you you so desperately want to be known. You will always feel unseen, invalidated, misunderstood by them. They will live with their version of you, their image of you, their fantasy of you, a picture in their own minds, perhaps until they die, and nothing you can do, or not do, will change that.

You may exhaust yourself, trying to get someone like this to finally SEE you.

You may try “compassion”. Being more and more agreeable and empathic and understanding. Giving gifts. Acts of service. Compliments. Giving endless amounts of time and energy to them. Working on yourself. Being “available”. Trying to be “good” for them. Agreeing with them when really you don’t. Saying yes when you mean no. Saying no when you mean yes. Ignoring all of your own boundaries.

You may spend hours and hours trying to explain your position, your views, your path, opening and dissecting your precious heart. Listening deeply to them. Being open and empathic. Rephrasing, rewording, reconfiguring yourself, trying all kinds of different tacks, trying to break through, trying to get them to see.

You may cling to the hope that one day, one day, they will change.

“If they only got to know the real me!”

But no matter how hard you try, and no matter how long you hope and wait, they won’t budge. They stay fixed in their beliefs, judgements, narratives, opinions, behaviours. They may even refuse to self-reflect, look at themselves, or even consider the possibility of change.

Why won’t they change?

Is there something wrong with YOU?

Is it YOUR fault that things are this way? Are YOU to blame for this lack of connection, closeness?

Should you try even harder to be understood, then? Be even kinder, more empathic, more understanding, nicer, more spiritual? Maybe if you offer them pure unconditional love, they will transform? Maybe if you become the best, most compassionate, most selfless, most [fill in the blank] person in the world, they will finally soften, and their love will flow effortlessly to you? It’s a beautiful dream.

But it soon becomes a nightmare.

One day you realise, you are fighting a losing battle. You are at war with reality. You are trying to manipulate and control how someone else feels, what they think, their values, their reality, their inner world. You are trying to “fix” them, in a sense, control their feelings and thoughts, alter their path, and it’s an impossibility.

If you are honest with yourself, you are doing the same to yourself too. And you actually feel exhaustion, resentment, anger, despair, even fear, underneath the whole damn project.

You are powerless to change them. Where does your power lie? In presence. In being authentically yourself. In the truth of your feelings and desires, however painful. In your courage to look within.

You discover the lost child in you that just wants to be loved, but is innocently looking in the wrong places, to the wrong people. For as much as it wants to be loved, it is scared of really being loved. For love is confused with abandonment, or enmeshment which is also a kind of abandonment, and either way, true intimacy is a threat. And that’s why it looks to the wrong people. There’s no chance of ever being seen, and so there’s no chance of ever being destroyed. It’s safe, and unsafe, all at the same time. We long for God, and we fear God’s penetrating gaze.

Some of us have mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers who will never see us.

Some people choose partners who will never see them.

In the end, you meet yourself anyway.

You discover your own wounding. And somewhere deep down, you know that love is not something you have to fight for, manipulate yourself or others for, not something that has to be won, not something you need to prove yourself worthy of.

You tire of trying to get water out of a dried-up well.

You find an infinite and holy well of love inside yourself.

And you gravitate towards other wells that give water freely.

You open yourself to the sacred water of life.

It is such a relief to not have to prove yourself anymore. To anyone.

You don’t have to be liked. Others don’t have to agree with you. They are free to judge you, tell stories about you, distrust you and your motivations, or ignore you completely.

And you are free. You are free to engage with them or walk away. You are free to love them, AND find yourself moving away from them. Or not. You are free to speak your truth, or not. To set boundaries, lovingly, clearly. Or not. You are free to be you, to prioritise self-love and to let yourself be loved and seen by others who actually do have the capacity to truly love you, and see you. To find your true friends, your true family, those who actually want you. To discover your true place on this Earth.

When others don’t want you as you are, they are giving you a wonderful gift: the freedom of yourself. You may just discover this, if you are willing to plumb the depths of your own beautiful heart.

  • Jeff Foster.

So here is my own words now.. writing my heart out is just my way of doing things.. it’s therapeutic for me.

I’m still healing from my battle with the Covid dragon… and it’s been one helluva ride.

The physical aspect has thrown me for a loop.. over and over again. Most people don’t see what happens when I’m alone.. they don’t see me push myself off the bed with my hands, try to steady myself to walk to the bathroom and then fall in the doorway.. most people don’t see the bruises or the tears that roll from my eyes as I grit my teeth again.

That’s one thing that I can handle, though, I can handle the pain and the weakness and the frustration with myself.. with my own body but, what really, really hurts is the words and actions of others which I can’t control or handle .

I’ve had family members tell me that i should stay home and quit working on others because I’m “endangering” them since I’m not vaccinated and don’t wear a mask.

I’ve actually been disowned by some family members because of my choices concerning Covid and my conservation political views.

It hurts like hell but it is what it is. I’ve accepted it… but I’m leaving the door open just in case they ever decide to reach out to me again .

I’ve spent a lot of time pondering what really matters to me and I’ve realized that I’ve made mistakes and choices that weren’t the best… and I’ve apologized and tried to begin again.

Sometimes it just doesn’t work that way… and no matter what I say or do, I feel like I’m damned .. damned if I do and damned if I don’t so I just do the best I can and hope it’s enough.

I can love like crazy but I can’t read minds as well as I can read lips and that’s just the way it is.

I’m always willing to listen and to talk when the intention is to understand and be understood.. to heal and not to hurt but I’ve also chosen to be still and wait for others to make the first move this time .

That’s hard.. because, by nature, I want to take the reins and rile up and get things resolved but I’m learning to let go and let God

I keep that door open, too, just in case, because I would love to be able to understand and be understood.

R

Safe Words

When it is time

To step inside

Shut the door

Do what must be done

I won’t bite my tongue

Clench my fist

Hold tight for what might happen

Keep the door cracked

Just a little

Because everything

Every little thing

Is gonna be alright

Hard to explain

How the past

Tries to break in

Cause some trouble

Raise some hell

Bring me back down

Where I don’t ever want to go again

When I think it’s all over

Locked safely away

It comes out

Tries to shatter my peace

But not now

Not anymore

I will whisper

The safe words

That have been engraved

Upon my heart

Etched into my skin

Worn upon my arm

Placed all over my walls

The words that keep me

Strong and fierce

Hunkydory

Fearless

Full of joy

Living my life

Falling in love

Dancing in the dark

Riding the waves

Flying free

Feeling with both hands

Reading chapter and verse

Making big plans

Giant steps

Leaps of faith

Dreaming big

Finding magic

In secret places

Discovering treasures

Hidden away

Now when I step inside

I’ll close the door

Delight in all I see

Do what I came for

Linger just a little longer

In this safe place

With all the words

I need.

👣♥️

Jeanna’ Mead

643a.m 8.23.19

http://www.jeannasoul.com

When I decided to make the move to the Cade house, it was because of several signs that made me know it was meant to be.

One thing set me off, though, and my mind went straight down a path I didn’t want to go.

The commode closet is 4 feet wide by 4.5 feet deep with 10 feet ceilings. With white walls and white door, it was cold and inviting but more than that, it made me feel trapped. I had visions of someone turning off the lights, since the switch was outside the door, and placing a chair against the door knob so I couldn’t get out.

I shared this with a few people and they all laughed and assured me that no one would do that.

I was not convinced.

Every time I had to use the restroom,I would lock the door to the big room and leave the commode closet door open.

I couldn’t ease my mind.

Maybe it was irrational but it was my way of fighting my demons.

Then Tuesday my aunt Judy, and her daughter, Brandi and Brandi’s daughter, Mandana came into my new massage studio, carried bags and bags of treasures up the stairs and created a beautiful, sacred and safe place that bought me to squeals of pure joy and tears of happiness.

They spent the entire day and evening arranging and placing things perfectly, taking my gifts from clients and friends and putting them where I can see them and feel the love. They found paintings and pictures, pillows and silk scarves, baskets and wooden bowls, books and rocks and mixed the old with new.

Thift store finds mingled with handcrafted pieces from Europe.

Mexican shakers nestled in a bird cage.

Mirrors reflected pictures that had been painted of me that had been taken on days that I always remember as days that I felt known and loved.

A beautiful cut rock was placed next to a pitcher. They had no idea that the pitcher was a gift from a woman when I first opened my 203 Fannin location. Every time I look at that pitcher, I’m reminded of her gracious spirit.

Up on the fireplace ledge, was a little jade bird… It reminded me immediately of the song my Mema loved to sing.

“One, two, three like a bird I sing

Cause you’ve given me

The most beautiful set of wings”

It also reminded me that God has placed each person in my life for reasons and that there I am to love and live like an uncaged bird.

All these things, all the details in my massage room and even my closet meant so much but the biggest surprise was what they did to the commode closet.

They had blindfolded me… Something that took a level of trust in itself. Being unable to hear and unable to see is a step of faith for me.

They sat me down on the white throne and took off the blindfold and, just like that, my demon was slayed by the words and the art and the pictures that covered that 4 feet by 4.5 feet by 10 foot high commode closet.

Words of strength.

Words of faith.

Words that made me laugh.

Paintings by friends.

Pictures from my original studio.

Treasures from stores.

I could sit there and feel safe.

Known and loved.

They thought they were only decorating my place for me.

They did that, too.

But they really gave me the most beautiful set of wings.

They made this place safe and sacred.

They gave me what my soul needed, what I longed for, what I tried so hard to trust my Intuition for.

They took the words I had spoken and believed it mattered.

This is a gift beyond measure.

Known and loved.

I can fly.

Unafraid.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Dangerous

It was a wake up call

A hard truth

Slap in the face

That she knew

No way about it

No amount of covering up

Would change the cold,hard fact

She wasn’t prepared

Couldn’t do what she should

If the time was to come

She’ll be filled with regrets

Left behind

A burden to bear

The weak link

That was so dangerous

Not anything she ever dreamed

Nothing she was proud of

Hard to believe

So she watched it all again

Thought about it

How the universe works out

That she would find it

On the week she was making plans

Bucket list

Promises to herself

For this year of her life

She would be dangerous

Force to be reckoned with

Strong enough

To run to and from

Save her own self

Carry another

She was hellbent

Not to ever be

In the place She is

Much longer

It was too dangerous

In this time and age

To be the one that couldn’t escape

She wanted to be

So dangerous

And free.

❤👣Jeanna’ Mead

7 33 a.m 5-19-19

Many years ago I was in a situation where it was dangerous and I got away. I swore I would always be able to…but the truth-the hard truth-is that I haven’t kept that promise to myself.

This year of my life I’m keeping my promises to myself.

Be dangerous