Trust, such a loaded word, floods you with many different emotions, scenarios, and flashbacks even. I was meditating this morning when a memory peaked into my mind.
When I was around 11, me and my brother attended this little after-school/ daycare program. One day I was leading some kids in a guided visual meditation. I remember it vividly and fondly. This little white girl laid on a bench in front of me; while I sat in a small chair behind her rubbing her temples and guiding her to envision herself at a beach, listening to the waves and feeling the warmth of the sun on her skin. The meditation lasted for a good 5 minutes. After it was over, she jumped up in awe ecstatically shouting about how it "really works" to the group of kids watching intently from behind me. One after the other they screamed for a turn.
After a while, in typical white people fashion 🙄, the staff came over to see what was all the commotion and quickly condemned my "witchcraft" and forced me to stop. Later that day, when my mama came to pick us up, they told her what I was up to, and don't you know, she agreed with them! 😒 And just like that, my guided meditations came to an abrupt halt.
As I reflected on this memory, I couldn't do anything but smile, smile at 11-year-old me. Who had no idea what guided meditation was but honored the knowing within me? I first started doing guided meditations on myself, not quite sure what I was doing, I just knew I enjoyed how it made me feel, and amazed by how I could transport myself to wherever just by rubbing my temples and focusing.
I've been on the search ever since to find that bold trusting young girl.
At the top of June, I finally moved to Atlanta after many months of contemplation, I finally lept. I had been planning to move since my graduation in 2020. I knew I didn't want to be in charlotte but wasn't sure exactly where I was headed. Then 2021 came, and I decided on Atlanta. Telling myself at the end of the year I would go, but that was a lie. Fear and self-doubt flooded me daily with worst-case scenarios and constant pessimism. I didn't have a job, where would I stay? I didn't have enough money saved or anything lined up to fall back on, I would be alone. These thoughts kept me bound, but we thank God for therapists and little sisters!
I'm not sure exactly where in my life I abandoned that 11-year-old version of me that was bold and that trusted herself without a doubt. Was it on the playground at that afterschool camp? My dysfunctional home where my feelings were invalidated? Or the societal pressure to shrink myself into a grain of sand? I'm not sure, but at the top of this year, I finally faced the mirror of fear, and staring back at me was my reflection. The fact I didn't trust myself wasn't news to me. I had put a lot of work into believing my facade. But something within me was over it! Ready to shed my fearful skin and my put-together persona.
Now here we are, a month into this self-trust journey, slowly calling back that 11-year-old girl, asking her to teach me how to jump without looking—learning how to recapture that boldness. I'd love to say my move has been a complete 180, but that's a lie, and there's no need to lie to ya'll. This move has me calling on the 11-year-old iteration of me daily, as I endlessly search for a job I enjoy and a place to call my own. As anxiety and regret try to drown me in worry I call back to my remembrance the many times I've leaped in my adult life and how God has always caught me. Because at the big age of 24 if I don't learn to trust myself now, when will I?
May this next season bear the fruit!
P.S.
In what ways are ya'll reclaiming the self-trust of your youth?
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