"When you get to a place where you understand that love and belonging, your worthiness, is a birthright and not something you have to earn, anything is possible." ~ Brene Brown
Lately, I have been having dreams with the same theme. In each dream, I am someone who is not as highly regarded as someone else in the dream. I might be a servant or a socialite, but no matter the role, I am given the message that I am not as good as I think I am.
I grew up privileged. My parents provided me with a comfortable home. We lived in the best area of town. We were members of the country club. I loved my life. Neither of my parents had come from the life they were providing for me. My grandfathers were both working class, one a baker, the other a truck driver. My mother grew up literally dirt poor, her father a tenant farmer before he became a truck driver. Dirt was her enemy, but I'll reserve that for another story.
A few times in my life I have been told I am a snob, but there were many more times when people who might have the right to say that have told me I was not, that I was friendly with everyone. I rested in this definition of myself for many years. But to keep that definition as the gospel truth would not be living the truth.
I was a snob, a virtuous snob. I never mistreated others because they had less than I did, but I did look down on others to make myself feel better about myself. Of course, I didn't know I was doing this at the time, but with a degree of introspection, I came to realize this truth. Once I recognized my habit, I had the annoying responsibility to "see" it in myself every time it popped up, or as I more accurately describe it, "raised its ugly head". I cannot say it never shows up anymore because it does, usually when I am feeling vulnerable or weak.
Looking back, I recall a particular conversation with my mother, and it may have been several conversations over time, but if that is true, in my mind they have morphed into one indelible impression. My first love was my best friend's brother. We were both in high school at the time; he was one grade ahead of me. One day after school, he and I sat on the wooded lot beside his house, kissing and talking. I felt close to him, and I had reason to believe he felt close to me. It was a precious and innocent moment that we both shared.
Walking the short distance to my house, I floated, my mind in the clouds, so to speak. As soon as I got in the door, my mom said the phone was for me. It was him. He wanted to come over to talk to me, and he asked me to meet him at the end of the driveway. Happily I ran out to meet him, and in a few minutes he appeared on his bike. He was acting strange. He told me that we could be boyfriend and girlfriend at home, in the neighborhood, but not at school. The news hit me hard. My excitement to see him turned to anger. I curtly told him that we couldn't be either.
My mother had a way of spying on me, watching through the curtains in the living room. She knew something was wrong, and when I went inside, I told her what had happened. Immediately she said, "They don't think we are as good as they are. Your dad is not a doctor." Until my mother said these words, I had never considered that I was not "as good as they were". In my adolescent brain, I didn't understand enough about status and money to think that way. I brushed my mother's comment off and went to my room to have a good cry.
My mother's comment planted a seed in my brain. That seed took root. Though I never admitted it even to myself, I was suddenly not good enough for someone I loved. I began to notice things, what I would call evidence that my mother was right. If the people I called friends didn't think I was good enough, then I didn't want their friendship. I began to pull away from the world I had known. I became classless in my choice of friends. I wanted to be everyone's friend. The boy I loved moved on to other girlfriends, and I watched, heartbroken.
Thus, over the years, that spot in my psyche sometimes still raises its ugly head, as it has lately in my dreams. True to form, it happens when I am feeling particularly vulnerable or dealing with feelings of fear. But what I have now to counter those feelings is something powerful. It is truth.
No one person is better than another person. How do I know this? I know because we are all gifted with life. Life flows through us, each of us. What we own or do can never negate that the beauty of the universe is flowing through us every second of every day. We may be in darkness at times, not aware of this divinity, this gift, and we may do things that cut us off from our own magnificence, but all the while, we are living and breathing life. If I am alive, I matter. I am here. I have a place. I have a purpose.
So when I wake up to one of these dreams, I take a deep breath and remind myself of these truths. I, also, have a little talk with myself about being afraid or vulnerable. It's okay. I am worthy because I am. No other reason is needed. That is for all of us. I wish my mom would have known this. She was loved by so many, but underneath she felt less than. I am happy for us both that I know that could never be true, about her or anybody else.
Just think what the world would be like if we all knew how precious we are just because we exist.
What a beautiful world that would be.
