Chapter 25: Finding my way

I have encountered a wall.

This wall feels terrifying, yet familiar. In my mind, I have been walking along the side of this wall, tracing it with my fingers as I explore it. I wonder when it got that tall. I wonder when it became so expansive. I wonder when it became so encompassing. I wonder when each crack formed. I wonder when each crack was repaired. I walk beside the wall and begin to cry. Why was it there? When did it get there? What is it dividing? What is its purpose? Has it been shielding me? For how long? Why am I faced with it now?

I look deeper and keep walking. I am on the verge of finding a door or making one. This wall feels important. 

I remember when I was a teenager and I watched a Swoozie animation video and he was telling a story about being guarded and guarding your heart. Even at church, I was taught to guard my heart. I feel like I took both messages very seriously. I remember telling my friend about how my heart is guarded by lasers and watchdogs and walls upon walls, and highly skilled ninjas, just to keep me safe. From what? Looking back, I'm not sure exactly. But I guess it's better to be safe than sorry. 

Maybe that's why this wall feels familiar. It's possibly a wall I built. With every experience and encounter, every day that has passed, that wall was built. Brick by brick. Every reinforced behaviour. Brick by brick. Every word that turned into a falsehood. Brick by brick. Every heartbreak. Brick by brick. Every insecurity, uncertainty, inconsistency, and unresolved conflict. Brick by brick. Every hopeless moment.

Brick by brick. The wall was constructed to keep me safe, to close me off, to make me colder, to make me wiser, to make me sceptical, to make me see the worst, to make me expect the worst, to have unrealistic expectations of myself.  To not trust others. 

This wall holds so much of my inner child and I am being called to face it. To keep tracing my hand across the wall. To feel it cracks, to remember. To remember the painful moments, the heartbreak, the endless tears. To remember each moment where hope failed me. To remember. To remember that the wall is no longer needed and that I have safety within myself. To remember that being safe doesn't mean keeping out the world.
There is a world beyond myself and I want to be part of it. 

I thought my heart became hardened by life so far. I thought I was the problem. I hid behind this mask hoping no one would see the little girl with social anxiety. Hoping to not be judged. Hoping that if I feigned confidence enough, eventually I would embody it and truly become my authentic self.

Looking at the wall feels like I am looking at a mirror. I see this little girl and she... she is alone, looking for someone to take her hand. The wall is too heavy.

I guess I am asking myself: what type of adult, what type of guardian do I want to be to this little girl looking at me? What can I do for this little girl? How do I take her hand? How can I nurture her? How can I make her feel like she no longer needs this wall?
I am certain that I should not be adding to this wall or I'll be walking forever and that little girl will be stuck for who knows how long.

I understand that our bodies respond in a way to keep us safe. This stored-up trauma once served me and protected me. At some point, it even made me stronger. Now, it is just a wall and it no longer serves me. My inner child is longing for safety and to be loved. 

Now, when I hear the phrase 'guard your heart', it implies that I should have healthy boundaries and learn to know when it's time to stay or walk away. 

Today, I am faced with a wall. Brick by brick. I deconstruct the things that once kept me safe. 

Brick by brick.