Yesterday when I woke up, I had a strange feeling; a feeling I have been battling for a few days. I felt as if the world continued its march ignoring my existence, the heaviness of my emotions–the dark night of the soul which was soon approaching–triggered by things which may be called superficial by some, yet those who are familiar with trauma, resilience, introspection and shadow work, understand you don’t pick your triggers, they simply show up to show you areas which still need healing.

As I felt abandoned to my oblivion, unable to go anywhere but to remain home, I tried submerging in my readings, old and new projects. No matter how much I tried, I could feel the tears wanting to flow yet I fought them, for I didn’t want to cry over what seemed superficial at the time. Finally as I shared what I felt… my confused thoughts and overwhelmed emotions; I was reminded we can’t help how anyone sees us. We can’t help the judgements that will come to pass. It took the following words to get me to start shaking off the fear of looking in…“when souls are immature, they don’t pay attention to how their actions or inactions may hurt another. They don’t understand how hard it might be to open up. People don’t expect it to be a problem with you, because you are so open about your life and your struggles; they don’t realize there are deeper layers which you keep close to your heart. They expect you to be strong, so the idea of their actions hurting your soul does not cross their mind”.

It is interesting how sometimes we have the “right” answers to point someone in the right direction yet fail to conclude on them when it comes to our emotions getting hurt. What was said to me, was no different than words I too have expressed to those whom I have worked with, who seemed as if capable of handling anything; yet what others fail to realize is that behind the armor, is a very sensitive soul.

One feeling led me to what seemed like thousands of questions, unfinished thoughts and ideas about life. Yet because I was willing to walk through it, my dark night of the soul was brief. After looking at memories I rather would have not, I was capable of understanding why an indirect action caused me so much discomfort. One thought after another led me to a connection between the emotion and a memory. I realized I grew up being the protector, at times parenting my own mother, always searching for an approval which was never to come. I pushed myself to be top of anything I set my mind to, just so she could be proud, yet despite all my efforts I was always denied her love. There were moments when I thought I finally had reached her, moments in which I dropped my armor and let her see me: nerd, wounded, chaotic, wild, shy,sensual but still good at my core. Despite that, those times only brought forth more pain and disappointment; I felt like a ghost.

There were times I felt hope yet she would exit my life time and time again, no explanation necessary… I wasn’t worthy of one–it was my job to understand, to always be there when she would return. I finally made the connection between what seemed a superficial trigger and that old feeling of being a ghost. The voice of my mother saying–“people won’t like you because you are too intense. You need to pretend”–All my life I fought against that, I rebelled against the idea that I am supposed to play holy to be good, to play submissive and dumb so others may feel valued. I realized the indirect trigger was not only pointing out at that memory but to the hope I held on for so long…that whispering voice of life which says “she was wrong, people value what is raw more than what is fake”.

As I looked at that old wound and allowed the tears to finally flow, I felt a sense of liberation. I felt connected to life’s love, realizing no matter how different, how flawed, how raw I may be; there lies my strength, my talents, my gifts.

I am living not just surviving life. I am in love with life, not seeking to escape its many shades. It is interesting how everything and nothing were connected; my mother was my history (everything), the external trigger was superficial yet life in its wisdom gave my ego a check; not out of punishment but so I may continue developing a healthy ego vs a false one. Everything which took place did so to help me look at all my facets…to help me understand my own existence.

This morning my soul just needed to express itself in one of its many facets, so I grabbed my pen and wrote poetry. The lines just kept flowing; it was liberating and invigorating. This is why I believe in not running from our hurts, from our “darkness”; had I not confronted myself, such pain would have manifested itself eventually in different ways.

This is my life, not perfect nor will I pretend it is. I write about what I know or what I am learning; I have not discovered something new, I just simply share my perception. However, as I mentioned to a fellow poet/blogger, poetry is my gift, my passion, my life–any poet understands poetry is unique to the soul expressing it.

Despite how hard at times it felt to learn to write fluently in English (3rd language), I am glad I kept pushing through. Writing on this platform has been therapeutic; I often get messages which only fuel my desire to keep going. Some of you express gratefulness for some of the things I write but it is I who is grateful to you–I am grateful for your patience, your understanding, for seeing past a miss comma or a misspelled word (getting better and will continue to do so).

To summarize, be strong but remember to be kind. Just because someone seems strong, doesn’t mean they are made of steel. If someone lets you in, be gentle; for you don’t know just how much it may have cost them to do so. Kindness is not a word to sweeten our sentences but an action to sweeten our spirit.

Sofia Falcone

Sofia Falcone
I passionately believe one person can make a difference. I write from my own experiences and interests. It is my greatest hope that by writing about my own challenges and hopes, others may feel inspired to believe more in their inner power and to fully embrace themselves.

Reprinted on crystalwind.ca with written permission from Sofia Falcone.

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