A lot of days I feel small. On my bad days I feel sucker punched by the world. Queen of everything, dominator of the world, could do anything—yeah. In a small town. In high school. But the world has since chewed me up, spit me out and told me in no uncertain terms that I am quite small. Out in the real world, I feel humbled…to put it mildly. I am certainly not as awesome as I once thought I was, and yet oddly enough I am learning that I am more awesome still than I have ever dreamed.
In quiet moments (quiet because you’re hiding from the world because it is yelling at you about how crappy you are. And because maybe you have friends, but they’re not there because…humans fail) in those moments, you really have no choice but to just be alone with yourself. Scary. But in that quiet place, where no one sees but me, I am learning things.
It starts out kind of scary, but then… it gets really quiet. (After you stop screaming). And still. And shockingly calm. Even though you are all by yourself you don’t feel the least bit alone. I feel… held. In a friendly darkness I am wrapped in a warm peace-inducing blanket. It’s intoxicating, this blanket. You forget your Self and you’re just there with your small self. That little self is not imposing or burdensome at all.
It’s pretty relaxing—kickin’ it in the warm bath of your inner mind. In that space, where I am treated kindly, cradled like I am something precious, I begin to realize that I must in fact be…precious. Huh.
Special. If I am being treated that way.
Go figure. Oh, I like being here. And no one else has to see. I could stay here, in this bathtub, all day. Here, I don’t need or want to be big or noticed. Here, I even savor being hidden. Here, I know that I am a good secret.
Just don’t spoil it by making me come out into the world.
I guess the trick is to always be in this bathtub, even as I am present to the real world. So many conflicting voices! The world shouting so many (often horrible) things at me, and the bathtub voice is so so small.
But the world (mostly) doesn’t have much to say, and most of what it says is crap, truly. So you can turn down the volume on that without any fear that you are missing anything. Trust that the bathtub voice is all you need to hear. Trust that your little self knows what she’s talking about and is telling you the truth. Trust what she says to you over what the world says to you; she will not lead you wrong. She is on your side. Trust her. Trust her. Trust her as if your life depends on it. It does. Cause if you’re going to survive, that little voice from the bathtub must be loudest of them all.