To All The Folks Who Loathe Me.

Yep. Lifted this beauty right from Google images. Thanks Jef So Rondolo.

Thank you.

Thank you for helping me to be the best version of myself. I have deep gratitude for your unkindness, your lies, your ignoring and your ignorance. If berating me takes your attention away from your unhappiness with your job, your relationship, your kids, your car, your home, your life, then go ahead. If focusing your angst on me means you don’t swat your kid, kick your cat, back into something, yell at your partner, or act like an asshole in general, bring it on. My shoulders are wide and my constitution and self-worth strong enough to allow your unhappiness to wash over me without absorbing any. If your need to be right is so strong that you prefer it over getting along with your friends, neighbours, and even those who love you the most, no problem.

Because I know the truth. I know your darkest secret buried deep inside you, so unfathomably far you think you’re hiding it from the world, in the only way you know how, because you truly are doing your best.

I see you.

I recognize your behavior for what lies behind and prompts it. I see past your anger and into your sadness. I glean fear in your apathy. I accept your judgement as loneliness, and I perceive your bullying as insecurity over your own tenuous self-worth. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you had trauma in your past; that you’ve suffered hurts, real and/or perceived. I’m sorry you weren’t loved enough, or in the right way, a nurturing way, or at all. I’m so fully compassionate for your terrible, terrible histories that have scarred and moulded you into the walking fortress that you’ve become, to further protect yourself from more hurt. More pain. More lack of a clear path away from your discomfort. Which is impossible to escape from. Here’s the answer and the secret, all at once. Darlings — the only way out is through.

But through can suck. Especially if you’re in the “I’m right” camp, since no forward motion can happen until you can acknowledge your shit, accept responsibility for your role in it (yes, you do have to do this), and take steps to move forward. Lovingly. Because when did hating yourself ever get you loving results?

As a reflexologist, who has practiced now for almost 30 years, I can tell you, without a doubt, that all your mental and emotional and physical “pains” are all connected, and that by jostling any one of those hurts can bring forth a deluge of responses in your body, not unlike how PTSD presents. After more than half my life of having the privilege of working on people’s feet, I pick up more than tension. I receive information about yourself that you may not even be cognizant of, and more likely than not, you are completely unaware that the said information is being transmitted. What I tell all my clients and students is that any time you touch someone, physically, mentally or emotionally, to keep your intentions clean, because you never know what might be behind any dams that may burst open. And if you allow yourself the luxury of healing, whether through touch, talk, movement, or any number of therapies available, you can take down those walls that you think are keeping you safe, but are only isolating you from life. From love. From your true self.

So throw me your worst, because I see you. I understand that when you are investing poisonous thoughts or words or feelings, or even actions, towards me, it is your hurts that you are attempting to assuage, in the best way you know how. But know this; all this ugliness that you are releasing does not affect me. The fact that drinking poison and expecting it to harm someone else is indeed true. So do yourself a favour — listen to Lenny Kravitz and let love rule. True happiness will elude you until to make the commitment to do so.

In the meantime, I can handle your shit, because I am a f*cking goddess.