Vulnerable

Vulnerable

vulnerable

It’s a risk. I’m afraid. What will you think of me? What will I think of me? If I tell my hidden truth?

I feel so ashamed. How could I show you that? I can not take the chance of showing my true face to you.

The idea of bearing it is terrifying. In fact, it is more than that, it is life threatening. My neediness threatens my life. It terrifies me. I don’t want to feel it.

I must protect from it. I can not need love. I can not show how I need you. I must protect who I truly am behind my performance of independence.

Why do I feel the truth in my heart is so ugly? So shameful? Why do I feel I must cover it up?

If you knew what was in me, if I showed it to you, I’d be under threat. From me. From you. From the weight of my unbearably inconvenient truth.

Yet if I can break through my fear and allow myself to be vulnerable, what lies on the other side? Could the very thing I fear so much be the very thing to set me free?

But of course. My life is not threatened by my vulnerability. Not anymore, at least. I’m now an adult, in charge of my life. I have the ability to unlearn the faux-protection granted by aloofness and lack-of-care, and allow myself to re-access the wholeness within me. With courage, I have what it takes to face the truth in my heart. I can be me. Vulnerable. Truthful. Completely me.

photo credit: emily mucha

The Moments of Regret

The Moments of Regret

if we never try we never know.

Regret is a painful thing. We see it through the lens of things undone, unsaid, unbeen. We feel it for those moments where our head overran our heart. We embrace it when we act from fear rather than love. All these moments we regret. It is never the moments from love, but the ones acted on—or not—out of fear; these are the moments we miss(understand).

Our mind wants to protect us, but from what? What is it our mind first causes us to fear—then ask us to protect against? Sadly, it is love. Always balancing our head and our heart, we are not perfect people. Trying to protect our self from the truth of our feelings, we make mistakes we later regret. Busy thinking about how we want to feel, we miss another moment to connect.

A Taker’s Approach

A Taker’s Approach

photo credit: Heleri

When I share I practice with Pay What It’s Worth pricing, I often receive one of three perspectives: The Giver loves it and is intrigued by it; the Matcher is curious, has questions, and wants to know more; and the Taker gets angry.

It is the Taker’s perspective, for me, that’s absolutely fascinating and holds a wealth of information… Perhaps more so than the people and perspectives who are open to the idea.

Being taken from hurts. Being a Taker hurts too.

The Taker’s perspective tells so much about the human condition, and how we as individuals process and express our collective feelings of separation and of lack. The Taker is extremely victimized by their feelings of lack, and they’re not yet capable of constructively processing them. The Taker lives within each of us — we experience it in the places in our life where we have, in fear, not yet owned our responsibility. It’s more than we’re capable of handling in the moment.

In the context of money and pricing, the Taker thinks and feels it’s stupid to not set prices. Their perspective is: humans are inherently not fair, nor generous. The Taker challenges the validity of, the sustainability of, and the authenticity of not setting prices, and they challenge my own authenticity as a seller, for choosing it.

The Taker does not believe I could be truly be happy with what they give, nor will I feel it’s fair. This perspective perfectly reflects their own story about relationships, and more specifically about money and finances, and it justifies their own actions in relationship. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy, really. They ‘know’ they won’t be fair, and so they question how I could possibly be happy with what they give. In not being capable of fairness or balance in their own relationships, they project this lack onto me, and everyone else.

Engaging in emotional jeopardy.

The Taker, rather than look at their own feelings, thoughts, and actions, instead looks elsewhere, at something external; such as at me and my offerings. Rather than observe their own intentions and actions in relationship, they look for the inevitable holes in mine. When allowed, they use this vulnerable space to show their Ego that others take in the same way they do. When given the freedom, the Taker uses this space to justify their behaviour and to feel victimized by the relationship — either by assuming they must take more than is fair in order to survive, and/or by feeling that they haven’t received enough.

The Taker is not yet capable of investing in fair exchanges and balanced relationships. They lack boundaries and a sense of responsibility. And when allowed by others, like me, they will unconsciously use their exchanges and relationships as a mirror to confirm what they already ‘know’.

The Taker’s immense value.

In recognizing the importance of the Taker’s perspective, I’m being emotionally self-protective. In being self-protective, I’m enabling myself to remain emotionally self-aware and self-nurturing without being hurt or taken advantage of by others. In caring for myself in this way, I’m simultaneously supporting the Taker in re-writing their story. For I’m not engaging in the drama of their Taking, perpetuating it and co-creating it. In remaining attentive to the person, and their drive to Take, and interacting with them in realistic ways, I’m not putting myself in emotional jeopardy. I’m co-creating healthy relationships, and I’m supporting the Taker in their healing and recovery.

Creating the balance you need.

The Taker has the powerful ability to show you where your boundaries need to be strengthened and transformed, to ensure you are truly creating relationships of mutual fulfillment. Interacting with your Taker will guide you in creating the balance your relationships need.

photo credit: Heleri