While working on creating this website, I was challenged to take a poll to see how many would relate to the topic of discovering identity. To my surprise, not many did, but rather they were drawn to discovering their purpose. I mulled that over for awhile and came to the conclusion that we struggle with our purpose because we don't fully understand who we are. I'm in that category. I'm a life coach, but that's what I do not who I am. My purpose stemmed from my identity. Where does my identity come from?
For full transparency, when I reached my forties, I realized that I had no idea who I was or what the driving factors were behind the things I did. With the help of a counselor, I had to retrace my steps all the way back to childhood. I had to relive the memories that shaped my negative belief systems. I had to acknowledge the crying inward child who still sat with knees pulled up to her chest still hiding in fear. I had to learn how to extend compassion and love to her, so that my adult self could also feel loved. My accomplishments were put under a microscope as I came to understand that I was trying to fill a personal unmet need in my life. I'm not going to glamorize this journey, it was wretched. At times, I didn't think I'd find the light at the end of the dark tunnel. What kept me moving forward through the darkness was the need to find myself or maybe it was to meet myself for the first time. I wanted to understand my thought processes, my likes, my dislikes, my emotions, and my dreams. In order to fulfill my purpose, I had to know who I was. I had lived for so long under all the lies and labels that people had put on me that those beliefs limited my actions. They hindered me from seeing and accepting my purpose.
I am not a counselor but a coach. I've been where you are, so there is no judgment. It took several months for my counselor and I to explore the past which I thought was difficult enough. When my grief took me to the present, I went into a tail spin as I began to feel the gaping bloody emotional wounds that were a result of the past. I wondered if this nightmare would ever end. Let me encourage you, it does get better. The best way to start seeing the light at the end of the tunnel is to start dreaming again, simple dreams, tangible dreams. When I started journaling of what I wanted to be at the end of the process, I began to see a little pinpoint of light in the tunnel. That pinpoint was hope...
What does light, pigs, and hope have to do with each other? Read the next blog!
