It’s Not You, It’s Me. Really. And Always.
Today, I confronted an experience that I had been repeating.
I journaled about it, as I find that one of the easiest ways of processing.
I noticed that I had been in a bad mood, especially when I was around my partner (they/them).
I journaled — I’m bothered most when I perceive them to show me attitude when I show them attitude.
Lol, it makes me laugh just typing that. Sounds so silly. And yet the experience feels real. And so, I go with it.
To clarify, I perceive my partner to be cranky and attitudious (real word? lol) and it bothered me when I felt *they* were bothered when I was acting cranky and attitudious.
I describe it as hypocrisy.
On both sides.
But it goes deeper.
Because the issue is usually not what it seems.
I know by now, my discomfort with hypocrisy is not really the issue; it doesn’t excuse me from looking at what’s really going, the judgment operating underneath.
So I wrote and wrote and wrote.
I asked, how can someone (my partner) who does something get mad at someone else who does the same thing?
How can they keep choosing to not see that they do the same thing?
I knew the next question:
Where am I doing that in my own life, within myself?
The million dollar question.
“Our outer experience is a reflection of our inner reality.”
^ Something I’ve learned over the years and especially during the two years in the Spiritual Psychology program (where I met my partner 😉 ).
I sat with it.
And realized, it wasn’t so much that I was duplicitous in my actions and words.
It was more that I had vowed to myself that I would NOT live in hypocrisy,
that my words would mirror my actions,
my actions would reflect my words,
and I would examine my life and iron out any wrinkles in my conscience and consciousness.
I realized, I was holding myself against that rule, the internal standard.
And by holding myself to this rule, I was holding myself in continuous judgment.
And everytime I perceived someone to be hypocritical, I projected my internal world in the form of disdain, accusation, indignation, etc.
It wasn’t so much that I was being hypocritical, but because I had condemned hypocrisy within myself, the experience of hypocrisy was very much alive in me.
And my poor partner, they got the hit with the same judgment, and my own bad attitude and discomfort.
I realized, at some point, I had judged my younger self for all the ways she had not been true to her words,
saying things she didn’t mean, so she could gain favor of people,
doing things she didn’t want to do, so she could gain the things, reputation, image that would inspire people to like her, respect her, want to be around her.
I threw her in prison and paid for her “sins” everyday by living in condemnation in present life.
I sat with that.
Was she truly to be punished?
Or was she doing her best?
Best by her standards, which is the best there is?
Was she truly insincere in wanting to live a life she wanted to be proud of?
Was she knowingly bullshitting the world and herself about who she was?
Or was she doing her best?
Yes, she was.
She always had been.
She always is, as she is today.
She filled out her capacity for life, for love, for truth, in every single moment.
Not one moment of her beautiful existence was wrong, tainted, punishable.
How could I judge that?
How could I rebuke and reject her?
How could any of it be wrong?
How could she ever be wrong?
I sat with it…
and sat and sat and sat…
I have been so mean to her.
I have been so ungiving,
I was *forcing* her to be integrous, demanding it, calling it law in her life, in my life.
And I expected that to translate into a blemish-free life, one of true integrity and truth.
See the contradiction?
Dare I say, the hypocrisy?
So why the attachment to living a blemish-free life?
Why the attachment to absolute integrity?
I journaled, because, if I was always in my integrity, if I was always living by what I knew was Truth…
then I could never be wrong.
And if I was never wrong…
Then I would be always right.
Lol, bear with me.
And if I was always right,
Then, no one could say anything about me.
Not a person, not God, not anyone.
And if no one could say anything about me,
Ah, there it was.
The source of it all.
I wanted to be safe.
I wanted to feel safe.
I wanted to feel fully embraced, taken care of.
I wanted to feel that I would not be punished, smited, ridiculed, rejected.
Safe from all of that.
Because, if I’m safe, I can relax.
If I’m safe, I know nothing can hurt me.
If I’m safe, I can be all of me.
I can breathe.
I can be free.
Mind fucking blown.
To recap, I thought that being perfect/integrous/without blemish would keep me safe.
And the experience with my partner was the arrow that pointed directly to it all.
Thank you, Soul.
I journaled further, writing down my self-forgivenesses,
about buying into the misbelief that I was not safe,
that I need to be protected,
that there was anything I could do to be protected.
I forgave myself for buying into the illusion of separation from God, universe, Life Force, Infinite Intelligence, etc.
I let it go.
I let myself go.
And I came face to face with myself, with that girl, so distraught with her shortcomings and failures as a human.
I saw her for what she really really really is:
Motherfucking grand perfection.
And the words that flowed, seeing my reflection:
I am Perfect.
I am Godly.
I am Holy.
I am Sacred.
I am a Wonderful Magical Child of God.
It is GREAT to be ME.
It is PERFECT to be ALL of ME,
to be SEEN as EXACTLY me.
I am Safe.
I am Safe because I am Loved.
I am Loved because I AM Love.
So it is.
And to my partner, thank you.
Thank you for your love, patience, presence.
Thank you for moving through my crankiness and attitudes with grace and compassion, as always.