The Inner Journey
I had, for a long while, been addicted to self development. It was like peeling onion layers; more were always waiting for you to deal with. But I was determined to recover from the effects of crippling emotional baggage I’d carried since childhood.
I’d felt an outsider most of my life, especially at school, even though there were times when I was popular. I rarely felt happy inside, even though I had a smile on my face much of the time. It started in early childhood. I wasn’t as bright as my older brother and younger sister; I wasn’t as pretty as my two younger sisters. Mum didn’t actually say the words, but when she talked, and she talked a lot, I read between the lines: ‘He’s a genius… she’s pretty…’ etc etc.
There was more to it than that, there always is… But I grew up believing I was unworthy: stupid, ugly. It was all untrue and I couldn’t shake it off as I grew. I believed it at my core.
The change in me started around the time leading up to, and immediately after, my father’s stroke.
It would take a long time, and much inner work on my part, to rid me of the bad feelings I carried about myself.