My system has been reflecting on our experiences of attempting to believe ourselves, to believe our memories, to seek out and find our deepest instincts and our nature, and to believe that more is possible than what we have experienced so far in this lifetime.
It is common for survivors of extreme and organized abuse to tell themselves, or to tell others, that they are lying, that they are making it up, or that they are untrustworthy. My system often internally hears the word “selfish” when we attempt to deviate from behaviors formed in slavery, even though this word doesn’t usually fit the situation.
We are thinking of ourselves, the lost, broken parts of us, the parts that are unsure as to whether they can believe in the benevolence that we are gravitating toward.
We are thinking of others whom we have known, who have cradled their own heads in their hands, rocked back and forth, and cried tears of mourning while verbally insisting that they are lying about it all.
We are thinking of all of the beings who were told that they deserve slavery so that their perpetrators would have an easier experience of enslaving them and lassoing their free wills.
I think it is cruel to lie to a little baby who is growing in a womb, or taking first breaths of air, or crying, or growing. I think it is so much crueler to force that baby, that child, that slave, that potential survivor, to then lie to themselves. Or pretend to.
While processing trauma memories, sometimes I hear internal voices say, That didn’t happen.
Often, while reflecting on a memory, I hear a voice say, I’m lying.
When I feel the wish to tell others about my experiences and to share my feelings, I hear a voice say, That’s selfish.
We have been trained to accuse ourselves of lying every time we come close to remembering the truth. We have been trained to accuse ourselves of selfishness every time we consider free self-expression.
It has been painful to live like this, so we are uncovering the earliest deception that we experienced, the deception that was then turned on itself, so that we would always live in conflict, in agony, folded over on ourselves so that nothing about us could flow freely outward.
While it may be heartbreaking to relive the first lies we were ever told, at least we will finally be in touch with the truth of what occurred. We will no longer feel forced to take those same actions toward ourselves, every day.
We simply wish anyone reading this to experience the peace of self-belief. The stillness of connecting to the heart’s deepest messages, expressions, and knowledge.
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