GIRL IN THE DIRT

Superwoman is wise to remember her origin story.

The true one, the one told from the beginning of time. The one unmarred by blemishes, wounds and the nagging questions of doubt. The story exists, but often must be found.

In the middle of a sprawling meadow there sits a magnificent oak tree, its branches wide and sturdy, its presence welcoming and safe. And beneath the shade of its amber green foliage, nestled in the dirt below, an etching in the cool dry earth - an outline of a little girl. 

Drawn as if with the tip of a fallen branch, her stick outline is simple, strong, somehow innocent and full of possibility all at the same time. She sits motionless and yet she speaks, the very shape of her form echoing the words etched on the deepest fabric of our hearts.

Precious.

Free.

Of incredible value and worth.

If we listen close enough, she speaks.  

I cross the meadow in my mind sometimes, the path of my bare feet set on the tree, relishing the respite of its branches, searching for the treasure that lies beneath. 

Searching for the little girl.

When I first started my journeys here her image was deeply buried - covered by leaves, rocks and debris, encased beneath the unkind moments of life, hidden by the “rest of her story.” But one day a wind blew, exposing a hint at her outline, and so the return trips began.

We are wise to remember our true origin story, find the very words that are the deepest etching on our hearts and cling to them when every part of our life and body and mind screams otherwise. 

Precious. Free. Of incredible value and worth.

It is the true origin story, but it must be sought after, fought for, and practiced over and over again.

I have moments in time that I am thankful that no one else sees. Moments when I sit, body full-enveloped in sobs, head wrestling back and forth in my hands wondering how one person can be such a mess. Hormones, life, disappointment, hard times - I try to rationalize it all, but in the end I am way beyond an ugly cry and far past the line I believe any superwoman should dare to cross.

And in these moments, when the mind calms long enough to allow the heart to speak, I cling to the memories of the girt in the dirt. I cling to the words that I know speak my true story, regardless of what I feel.

And in a sheer and powerful act of will worthy of those willing to reach deep, I force myself to speak.

“At this moment you have absolutely no less worth. Right now you are of exactly the same value.”

Still precious. Still free. Still the girl etched in the dirt. 

Despite what my emotions are screaming. 

I welcome you to try this - words are powerful and the mind and heart know this full well. Speak the truth of who you are. The thoughts will flood to remind and reassure that what you seek to utter cannot be the case.

But say it anyway.

The heart only needs to hope to believe it is true, the mind can object all it wants. Volume doesn’t matter, conviction can be lacking, but let your inner voice speak.

On a journey to heal superwoman, often the healing begins within.