Calling yourself Out: Having the Cajones to Embrace your own Stuff
When was the last time you were really authentic with yourself and called yourself out on your own stuff? When were you willing to look behind the door at whatever dark, stinking stuff you may have stuffed there, and acknowledge it, and embrace it? Have you ever called yourself out on your stuff?
Pardon the vernacular, but it takes a set of cajones to do so. It is a practice for one who is willing to step upon and walk the warrior path.
Last night, I shared an incredible co-versation over dinner. At one point during the meal, I said, “I think a lot of people are addicted to pain.”
The person I was sharing this co-versation with said, “You think a lot of people are addicted to pain? You don’t believe a lot of people are addicted to pain?”
“Yes. No.” Why? A part of me, or several parts of me, in that moment were quite clearly saying “Bullshit. I don’t believe people are addicted to pain.” Why? Here’s where it gets interesting…why does a part of me not believe people are addicted to pain?
In that moment, I realized, part of me does not believe people are addicted to pain because that part of me is addicted to pain — a part of my Self was trying to keep hidden in the dark recesses of my awareness aspects of self that I have yet to embrace that are in pain. Dark, festering pain. And, I called myself out on my stuff right then and there. Over dinner. No holds barred, after a few minutes of meeting someone, I slipped the lip and called myself out.
It’s taken years of practice to get to this point and now, before I’m even aware of what I’m doing, I’m calling myself out on my self-authenticity.
I don’t know what that pain is yet, if I will know what it is, or if it’s even necessary to know what it is, as much as it is to purely allow myself to feel it, to express it, to allow it to flow through me. And that’s okay! One thing is for sure, I will be spending time with that part of myself, compassionately, and with loving kindness.
It can, at first, be terrifying to even think of acknowledging your stuff like that in front of other people, especially someone you practically just met, but it is incredibly freeing. It’s raw. It’s naked and vulnerable. It’s real.