"Authenticity is a collection of choices that we have to make every day. It's about the choice to show up and be real. The choice to be honest. The choice to let our true selves be seen." ― Brené Brown
The authenticity Brené Brown speaks about in the above quote is all about choices, and these choices (for me) wasn't attainable until I came into an understanding of who I was, the knowing and the unknowing parts, in search of my core being.
So many of us go through life without being aware our true self is overshadowed by our wounded self, and it can send a false notion that we need "fixing," that something must be wrong with us, that we are broken in some way.
Why?
Because somewhere—along life's path—the need to express and feel and be in touch with our emotions was, in some way, conditioned out of us by traumatic events, especially if these events stemmed from childhood.
Subconsciously, negative defense mechanisms can develop and become part of our personality, but in reality, it isn't the way we heal. Instead, we lose touch with our core being. Our inner growth is stifled. And our own passions and creativity are shielded.
While many factors contribute to the development of negative defense mechanisms, one of the ones I'd locked away from my childhood was the effects of being bullied.
I am the second oldest girl of fourteen siblings. We were known as one of the poorest families in our small community. There were times we barely had enough money for food, let alone brand-name clothing or footwear. Suffice it to say, I didn't fit the "norm"—especially at school—and often fell prey to ridicule and bullying.
In the tender and formative years of my life, my brain had already wired itself to be a certain way: I suffered from low self-esteem, I was an underachiever in school, and I'd trust issues. But being the strong-willed kid that I was, I grew a thick skin and moved on with life. (Or so I thought.)
The ramifications from my bullies by no means left me unscathed in adulthood. For years, the sting of their words continued to play havoc on my self-esteem, shaping the way I saw the world, myself, and my relationships. The "thick skin" of my youth had now become impenetrable, not just from the outside but from the inside as well. So, if I wasn't allowing others in or allowing my inner core to be seen, how could I possibly be authentic?
Around my mid-forties, I began to question the pathway of my existence. On the surface, I was blessed with a great life, but there was a longing in my soul—a gnawing ache that I couldn't quite put my finger on.
I'd no idea how God would mysteriously move in my life when my daughter presented me with the book "The Purpose Driven Life: What On Earth Am I Here For," by Rick Warren. In fact, it was so life-altering, it became the springboard that eventually led me to Christ.
Amazingly enough, through God's love and forgiveness, the walls that once shielded me ultimately became the doorway back to the authenticity of my core being. And, in turn, life has handed me a gift: The sensitivity toward those who are bullied and ridiculed and discriminated against. The deepest and truest parts of who I am today.
The hurts we endure become like dark clouds that move in and out of our lives, clouds that (at times) become so heavy they rain tears of sadness upon us. But as we begin to slowly process and let go of those dark places, rays of sunshine will pierce through, offering us hands of hope for the future; a future where our truest self has reawakened and is no longer fearful of being seen.
The authenticity Brené Brown speaks about in the above quote is all about choices, and these choices (for me) wasn't attainable until I came into an understanding of who I was, the knowing and the unknowing parts, in search of my core being.
So many of us go through life without being aware our true self is overshadowed by our wounded self, and it can send a false notion that we need "fixing," that something must be wrong with us, that we are broken in some way.
Why?
Because somewhere—along life's path—the need to express and feel and be in touch with our emotions was, in some way, conditioned out of us by traumatic events, especially if these events stemmed from childhood.
Subconsciously, negative defense mechanisms can develop and become part of our personality, but in reality, it isn't the way we heal. Instead, we lose touch with our core being. Our inner growth is stifled. And our own passions and creativity are shielded.
While many factors contribute to the development of negative defense mechanisms, one of the ones I'd locked away from my childhood was the effects of being bullied.
I am the second oldest girl of fourteen siblings. We were known as one of the poorest families in our small community. There were times we barely had enough money for food, let alone brand-name clothing or footwear. Suffice it to say, I didn't fit the "norm"—especially at school—and often fell prey to ridicule and bullying.
In the tender and formative years of my life, my brain had already wired itself to be a certain way: I suffered from low self-esteem, I was an underachiever in school, and I'd trust issues. But being the strong-willed kid that I was, I grew a thick skin and moved on with life. (Or so I thought.)
The ramifications from my bullies by no means left me unscathed in adulthood. For years, the sting of their words continued to play havoc on my self-esteem, shaping the way I saw the world, myself, and my relationships. The "thick skin" of my youth had now become impenetrable, not just from the outside but from the inside as well. So, if I wasn't allowing others in or allowing my inner core to be seen, how could I possibly be authentic?
Around my mid-forties, I began to question the pathway of my existence. On the surface, I was blessed with a great life, but there was a longing in my soul—a gnawing ache that I couldn't quite put my finger on.
I'd no idea how God would mysteriously move in my life when my daughter presented me with the book "The Purpose Driven Life: What On Earth Am I Here For," by Rick Warren. In fact, it was so life-altering, it became the springboard that eventually led me to Christ.
Amazingly enough, through God's love and forgiveness, the walls that once shielded me ultimately became the doorway back to the authenticity of my core being. And, in turn, life has handed me a gift: The sensitivity toward those who are bullied and ridiculed and discriminated against. The deepest and truest parts of who I am today.
The hurts we endure become like dark clouds that move in and out of our lives, clouds that (at times) become so heavy they rain tears of sadness upon us. But as we begin to slowly process and let go of those dark places, rays of sunshine will pierce through, offering us hands of hope for the future; a future where our truest self has reawakened and is no longer fearful of being seen.
