Wearing a mask of indifference, I burned with embarrassment at who she was making me. My body ate my words and buried them like treasured bones in between my skin and muscles. The hate and fear I felt lived tightly in my nerves and cells so that it became a part of me, fueling my disconnection. Standing outside myself, I watched as she did her best to break me.
Struggling to give myself over to my inner creative, to trust that the words will come, I end up holding it all tighter, my self confidence spiraling as I face my fears of failure, rejection and exposure.
I want to scream, slap my face and say "Wake up, wake the fuck up", but I know better, turning against myself won't bring me back. Heart closed, I feel like a cold, abandoned house where everything has been stripped away. My soul goes quiet
My head is like a swarm of bees. Thoughts buzzing, self-criticisms buzzing, to-do lists buzzing, but at the end of the day there is no honey. Where is the sweet nectar of my life? Where is the joy, the peace, the reward for all the doing?
Oprah had my mom's attention every weekday at 4pm. This powerful woman, who seemed to rise out of nowhere with the message that anything was possible, became my beacon of hope as day after day she brought healing and change to ordinary lives. To me, she felt like the closest thing to God and I desperately needed God or Oprah's help.
We are inundated with information, advertisements, news, and news feeds almost everywhere we look. It's easy to lose sight of who we are, what we believe and what we want when there is so much telling us what we "should" be or "could" be buying, using or doing.