This week Mindy shares an experience of growth she had dancing on a tennis court. Mindy is prone to dancing to the beat of her own soundtrack and this week the beat delivers. She delves into the experience of holding all of herself from some of her earliest memories to her present and she shares how holding all of herself she finds healing and the understanding she’s sought her whole life.

This week is a a call to look inward, to acknowledge our own complex tapestry of selves, and to extend towards them the understanding and acceptance we often seek from others. It's about the discovery that the most profound understanding comes not from external validation but from embracing every part of our journey with compassion.

In sharing this piece, which began in a moment of openness and optimism and was revisited in a time of readiness. If it resonates with you embark on your own reflective journey. Perhaps, like me and Mindy, you will find that the understanding you seek has been within you all along, waiting to be acknowledged and embraced.

–gonzo

On being seen

I wrote this piece at the end of January. I was feeling optimistic and open. Then David and I had possibly our hardest fight ever, and I no longer felt as optimistic or open. So I shelved this piece. This week I felt ready to share it. 

In November while at a retreat, with the assistance of plant medicine, while dancing on the tennis court on the back of the property, I had a sense of being trailed by all the past versions of myself. The Mindy of every life stage, accompanying my present self everywhere I go. Each with her own story, her own small triumphs and personal joys, but also each with her own secret hurts and lingering pains, each with her own burden of shame. The shame from the loneliness of not feeling seen or understood. What if I’m not understood because I’m wrong somehow. I’m defective in some key way that makes it impossible for others to understand me. Maybe everybody feels misunderstood, but maybe it doesn’t bother them so much? I don’t know, because I’m trapped in here. All the Mindys of the past with their collective yearning to be understood. Showing up as a desire to over explain  and make a case on my own behalf because maybe it will bring the understanding they/we (me!)

are hungry for, and that will bring the acceptance and sense of safety and home that has always eluded her. (You’re just going to have to forgive any grammatical confusion here and roll with it.)

But as I danced with the trailing Mindys it occurred to me that no one else ever could understand. Even if it were possible for them to watch all of those experiences unfold right in front of them, like some sort of Life of Mindy movie, while listening to a narration done by me of how I was feeling about it all, even then, they would be processing it all through their own lenses, through their own life experiences and personal frameworks. And that still wouldn’t be the understanding that I was longing for. Because it turns out what I really wanted was not understanding but acceptance. I hoped that if someone understood where I was coming from, they would see how even at my worst moments I was trying to Be Good somehow but that it just got kind of twisted up and confused and couldn’t you see that I was trying so so so so hard? And I saw in that instant that there was only one person in all the cosmos who could give me this understanding that I wanted, that I needed.  And that person was me. I’m the only one who has been here all along and understands what I’ve experienced and how all those experiences shaped me into the person I am today, both the sparkly and the messy bits. Was it somehow possible to show up for myself in a way that I hadn’t before? To give myself what I needed? I’ve been doing this gig for forty-plus years and hadn’t figured it out yet. But maybe…. 

Fast forward to December 12th (12/12, for those of you like me who like fun numbers). I’d scheduled a session with an energy kinesiologist whom David had done a few sessions with back in 2022. He’d found the sessions to be incredibly helpful, probably the most helpful intervention in his healing journey, even though, to use his words, he doesn’t believe in any of that stuff. 😉 By the end of November, I was feeling painfully stuck and felt like I could use some help. I didn’t know exactly what would come of it, but felt desperate. 

“Okay, now I want you to get  in your jeep,” he said, “and drive to your childhood home.”  As I was laying on a massage table with my  eyes closed, I understood that this was to be a journey of the imagination. But I have driven that route to Meridian, Idaho in my Jeep a few times, and I know those roads leading into town and to my parents’ home so intimately that it was an easy task. I felt myself enter the neighborhood and could see the houses I’d passed hundreds of times on my walks and bike rides as a child, and later during the comings and goings of a teenaged driver. More vibrant than the sights of my childhood neighborhood were the feelings that arose inside of me. Approaching the door there was a catch of anxiety in my chest, I stood a little taller as I braced myself for whatever I would find on the other side of the front door. I  wasn’t sure what I would experience here. After entering, I walked back into the living room, and glanced over towards the wall by the piano. I could see her there, kneeling on the floor, toys set up on the lid of the extra large toy box one of my brothers had built in a high school shop class. A little block house and some of her favorite small plastic toys, acting out whatever scenario she’d come up with. Oh, she’s so small. Her little six year old body stiffens, sensing that someone is behind her, watching. She was playing quietly, all the dialog for the various characters existing only in her head, so she knew she wasn’t disturbing anyone and had thought that she would therefore escape the attention of anyone, yet here I was.

“Let her know that you’re here for her, just to be with her. Let her know that she can tell you whatever she wants to tell you, or show you something, or just think about it and you will know.” Okay. Deep breath. 

What do you want? 

She wanted me to feel what she felt. 

Oh, oh wow. The feelings and physical sensations poured into me, never mind that they were nearly four decades old, I was there again in an instant. I was right where she was. I was her. But now I had concepts and words to assign to all of these feelings, to make sense of them. 

Trapped. She feels trapped. 

And then I was drowning in a sudden deluge of images and feelings and thoughts from my childhood. It was cacophonous and unsorted, a sort of stream of consciousness that could only come from a child with an as yet unformed sense of self, trying to figure out how to navigate the world and find her place in it. I saw distinctly that little Mindy didn’t feel safe to express herself in this home. The spankings and the yelling and the “Stop crying or I’ll give you something to cry about,” were too much for her very sensitive and tender self. With an insight beyond her years but borne out of a place of fear and pain, she decided at a young age to fracture, and she split herself into parts. And one part would be the ideal daughter, the gifted student who excelled academically. This part would apply her same bright mind to understanding the religious framework that was so important to this household, and she could become expert at that as well. It turned out these were pretty easy tasks for her and she did an admirable job, going on to get straight As until graduation, and also holding almost every church youth leadership position open to her. I remember the end of year assembly for seventh grade, when I was awarded the Outstanding Student award in three of the five subject categories awarded, for the entire grade. I walked up to the front three different times and I felt amazing and special, even though there was a part of me that was uncomfortable with all of the eyes on me.

I absolutely excelled in school. When I took the ACT as a junior, I got the highest score of my class, and I was kind of a class legend. My peers celebrated and also teased me a bit. But I don’t remember getting any celebration at home. My dad retired when I was in middle school and was around a lot more, and he would get after me if I was watching television after school and check if I’d done my homework. I felt the righteous indignance that only an adolescent can feel, but I also felt deeply unseen. Doing well in school was my life, and it was my lifeline, too. It was where I found myself. Where I could have an identity that meant something to anyone. An area of my life that I could show up and at least one part of me could feel seen. I’d been doing my homework without supervision, reminders, or even parental help, forever. Obviously he didn’t understand me at all if he thought that I needed some sort of parental oversight in this area. 

Young Mindy did just what she set out to do—she excelled at both school and church. But those successes didn’t do what she hoped they would do, which was to give her a sense of being seen or accepted. They did keep her safe, though, by sparing her a lot of additional unpleasantness, especially with her dad whose reaction to too many things was loud and angry. 

Standing here, witnessing little Mindy in my mind’s eye,  I saw clearly for the first time that part of me that fractured off. The pages and pages and pages of journal entries over the years. The countless crushes on different boys all through elementary, middle, and high school. The tears cried alone in her bedroom. The challenges and hurts that went unspoken, unsupported, and unseen. This was the private side. The side not for public view. Don’t let anyone know about this side. 

I could see how I grew up and never felt safe to express myself. Not that I always knew what that meant or how I would want to do that, but I did know that speaking up and drawing attention was not rewarded in my family. Do things Dad’s way and stay out of his way. I remember when my parents would go out for the evening and I’d be home alone. I would put a CD in the stereo, turn up the volume and I would dance. It was amazing. I was free. I never dared do this when they were home. I’m not sure what would have happened. Maybe they would have gotten upset at how loud the music was. Maybe they’d have made some comment about my dancing. Maybe they would have even ignored me. But it was a risk I never took. This was a special thing, just for me. And I wasn’t about to let them ruin it. 

“Does she want you to stay with her here, or does she want to leave?” Oh, she wanted to leave all right. Since we weren’t limited by the confines of reality, here in my mind, I knew just where to take her, this lovely little person who loved animals and nature (yet another thing that wasn’t really celebrated in her family). I took my little self to the Amazon rainforest, a place that adult me was fortunate enough to visit. Twice. Freed from her prison, little Mindy blossomed. She was so so so excited about everything! And she was even more excited to be with an adult who was just as excited as she was. And knowing the adult was her made her feel so happy. She couldn’t believe she would get to do this cool amazing stuff when she got older. Wow!!! Here she didn’t feel the same need to be quiet and not draw attention to herself. She could be loud (if she wanted to) and could dance and do whatever. The animals didn’t care. And whatever she wanted to do, I joined in. 

“Let her know that you’re always with her and she can be with you whenever she wants. She’s not alone anymore.” 

When I eventually left, a part of her stayed there, feeling empowered to face the challenges in her own life knowing she didn’t have to do it alone. But part of her came with me, so happy to be included and freed from the place she felt so inhibited and trapped. Since then I’ve found it pretty joyful to have her around. Sometimes she likes to take over control and delight in doing the things that adult Mindy gets to do. Dance with friends. Take her dog on a walk. Drive an amazing firecracker red Jeep. Play games with her children. Feel the love of her husband. Having her with me has taught me a lot in the past month. I didn’t know how much I was missing before. How showing up for myself with understanding and compassion would start to change everything inside me. I feel a growing sense of safety in myself. A fuller self acceptance than I’ve ever felt. I feel more courageous. But I also feel gentler and more tender. Able to look at people (including myself) with more softness. I’ve realized that part of why it’s been hard to speak up for myself sometimes is that I was looking to others to validate my feelings and experiences. I didn’t trust my own assessment. But if I spoke up and they disagreed or (gasp!) thought poorly of me, where would I go from there? It is a normal part of development to create a reflected sense of self–we orient our own ideas of ourselves based on the feedback we get from others. But there comes a point in our development when we can’t grow any further until we are willing to own the entirely of our story, the triumphs and the defeats, and to hold it in our own heart with compassion. No longer looking to others for validation because we know, at our core, that everything about us is valid, even if it isn’t understood by others. There are limitless ways to be human, and our way is one of them. 

—Mindy

NEAT!

• My friend Jon Ogden is a lovely, thoughtful person. I’ve enjoyed reading his words over the past decade or so and wanted to share his latest piece. 

• What’s the Rush. Listen to this song in the car and see if you don’t feel at least 10% more chill. 

• Make This Leap. Lately I’ve taken a special delight in the poetic aspect of songs. It occurred to me that even though I love poetry, I’m unlikely to read a favorite poem multiple times in a week (or a day). But listening to some songs feels like a way to swim in poetry, and I absolutely relish it. 

  I can see, I can see, I can see a sunrise

  Call me out from the dark, cause I'm broken inside

  I can see, I can see, I can see a sunrise

  Call me out from the dark, cause I'm broken inside

  Up above the static

  And up above the racket

  I hear your voice calling me out of the darkness

  Caught up like parachutes, Caught up like parachutes

  Oh how we'd fly

  Caught up like parachutes, Caught up like parachutes

  Oh how we'd fly!

SOMETHING TO TRY

"The Conversation with Past Selves" Journaling Exercise

• Set the Scene: Find a quiet, comfortable space where you won't be disturbed. Bring a journal or a piece of paper, a pen, or your audio notes app. Play a piece of music that resonates with you, perhaps one of the songs mentioned in the newsletter, to help set a contemplative mood.

• Reflect on Past Selves: Think back to different stages of your life. Visualize yourself at these times, much like the dance with the trailing Mindys. Consider the joys, the struggles, and the growth of each version of yourself.

• Write a Letter or Speak: Choose one of these past selves to write a letter to. This could be a younger version who felt unseen, misunderstood, or at a pivotal point in life. In your letter, offer the understanding, acceptance, and compassion that you wished for at that time. Acknowledge the strengths and struggles of this past self.

• Dialogue with Your Past Self: After writing the letter, imagine what your past self would want to say in return. Write down this imagined response. This can be a powerful way to connect with aspects of yourself that may need healing or acknowledgment.

• Reflect: After completing this exercise, take a moment to reflect on the experience. How did it feel to offer compassion to your past self? Did you discover anything surprising or enlightening?

By engaging in this exercise, you're not only acknowledging the many versions of yourself that have led you to where you are today, but you're also practicing the very acceptance and self-compassion that Mindy explored in her own self-reflection. It's a step towards reframing your reality and understanding the power of being your own source of acceptance and validation.

PARTING

WORDS

PIC

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That’s all for this week! If you’re into this, share this newsletter with all your friends. Connecting with new subscribers is magical! 🧚🏻‍♀️

DISCLAIMER: This newsletter is for educational and informational purposes only and is not intended as a substitute for professional medical advice.