Facing my Demons

We all have those parts of us that we don't like. It might be something physical or it might be a characteristic or maybe some of each.

Over the years I've come to terms with these little bits and pieces that make me me. I don't like the fact that by the time I was 25 years old my hair had turned gray. I wish I could lose some weight.  I have small boobs and lots of stretch marks from giving birth seven times. Whatever!  I also kill plants and small animals. I do to many things at once. I cry all the time. I'm painfully shy. This is me.

We also carry our wounds, our fears and insecurities. Those memories from our past that tell us we aren't good enough, aren't lovable, aren't worthy. I've made friends with those parts of me too.

But what happens when you bump into a part of you that you find absolutely abhorrent?  I'm not talking about a little bit uncomfortable.  I mean, when you see something that makes you turn your head away in disgust. I mean, when the idea fills you with fear and makes you sick to your stomach. What then?

I think the comfortable thing to do is to bury your head in the sand, look the other way, pretend it didn't happen, doesn't exist.


Wasn't me!


Didn't do it!


A complete and utter denial of a part of myself that lives and breathes and exists inside me.


Rejection of the self.



How long can one go on in denial? A lifetime I'm sure. But is it healthy? Is it right? What kind of damage is done to the self when a part of it is rejected and denied and perhaps even hated.

I don't know the answer. I'm still in the space of rejection, denial,  disgust.  I can dye my hair but I don't mind the roots. I accept the stretch marks on a body that carried and birthed seven times. It is okay for me to be quiet and shy. I've stopped trying to garden. I've gotten rid of the fish tank because I think it is wrong to kill a new fish every week. I've come to terms, accepted and embraced what makes me me. I acknowledge that I am special and wonderful...

except...

There is still this part of me that I deny.

Not me. No way.

It's not a bad thing. I didn't do anything terrible.

But there is this demon that is a part of me. It lives and breathes and grows ever bigger in my mind as I reject it.  Running from my fears, refusing to acknowledge it.

Not me.

Eventually, unless you want to spend a lifetime in hiding you need to stop running, stop denying, stop rejecting those parts of yourself that you don't like. Not just the little things but the big, ugly, disgusting things.

Stop!

Pause.

Turn and hold your hand out to the demon within.

Name it.

Feed it, stroke it, offer it love, compassion and acceptance.

Perhaps, in time, it won't be so scary or foul.

Perhaps, in time, you can make friends with this demon.

You never know unless you take the first step.

Turn and face the demon within.