The 5 Beliefs I Had to Blow Up to Begin Again
Everything I had to unlearn to finally feel free.
It was just another ordinary day, and a single choice that would ultimately change me forever.
That was the day I decided to begin living the rest of my life.
It was a day like any other, and a garage door that wasn’t working properly. I was running late, as usual. The kids were on track to be late for school if we couldn’t pull it together. They couldn’t find their shoes—as usual—and my daughter had gotten into this terrible habit of hiding under her bed when it was time to leave.
It was a season of my life when there were two car seats and a booster, and a diaper bag full of a million things I needed, and sometimes a poopy diaper I’d forgotten to throw away until it was too late to do much about the stench, which would later become a metaphor for my life. But I digress.
It felt impossible to get everyone out the door each morning. I felt inadequate and defeated as a mother and in life. And if I couldn’t even get out of my house each morning, imagine what the rest of my life looked like.
But that morning, I did manage to get everyone tucked neatly into the car.
“We’re going to make it!” I thought. Relieved, I gently backed out of the garage.
And then—the garage door wouldn’t close.
I didn’t have time for this, I didn’t have energy for this, I did not have the stamina for this. My (then) husband wasn’t home to help—as usual. I felt very alone. He had said he’d fixed the garage door—or was going to anyway. Yet here we were, or rather, here I was—a casualty of another broken promise.
What I didn’t know yet was that the gnaw of this loneliness reached all the way back to my childhood until I was out of my mind with it.
The collision of my current life and my childhood left me useless, melting into a less resilient, less capable version of myself. I began to weep.
I yelled a little bit; perhaps I yelled a lot. This will forever become the “garage door moment” that my friends and I refer to as the day that broke me. I promise we laugh about it now, but back then, it was very serious. This less-capable version was increasingly showing up these days. I didn’t like this version. As a mother, as a wife, as a friend, maybe even as a person.
It felt like I was raging inside. And that anger scared me. I was careful to keep it contained and not let it show. Until I’d had enough—and then it spewed out all over everyone.
I didn’t have the tools to communicate my needs, and I didn’t believe my needs were valid enough to even communicate in the first place. So I lived on the edge, making everyone around me responsible for my emotions, my happiness, and my well-being. Everything in my orbit controlled how I felt.
Maybe you can relate.
That garage door moment cracked me open. And in the years that followed, I realized five core beliefs were keeping me small—beliefs I had to blow up before I could begin again.
It took that moment to realize that my situation was really fucked up, and if I wanted it to be different, I’d need to actually do something differently. And so I did.
I began to do it differently, and all of that is a long story, and it took a lot of work (it’s all in my book!). But there were five key beliefs I harbored that needed to blow all the way up so that I could become the truest and most beautiful version of myself.
1. My needs don’t matter - or don’t matter as much as other people’s needs. I let other people justify my needs - in other words, if mine weren’t justified by someone else, were they even valid? Totally wacked.
2. I had to be less so he could be more - I was too funny, too loud, too opinionated; I got all of those messages and more growing up. When I let on that things weren’t going great in my marriage, I was advised to be less so he could be more. And I listened!
3. Divorce would make me a bad person and worse, a bad mother. My community and the church reinforced this, with little regard for how I was actually feeling. And because I didn’t hold my needs and feelings in high esteem, I let them do it. I was holding on to what was killing me, and let me tell you, that doesn’t work. Turns out, divorce actually made me a better mom.
4. Everyone needs me to save them and/or tell them what to do - This way of thinking is Codependency 101 stuff. No grown adult needs you to save them or tell them what to do.
5. I can’t handle my own feelings and emotions (AKA, I need a drink) - As I began the process of stepping into my emotional integrity, I realized how much I was numbing - with food, with alcohol, shopping, everything really. I was an equal opportunity medicator. I stopped drinking, and that is probably the best decision I’ve ever made.
Looking back, I’m amazed at how shifting these five things changed the trajectory of my entire life. And though I’m mostly there, I recognize it’s not perfect.
These things rear their ugly heads every once in a while (not drinking, but numbing), and I try to be aware and keep things in check. Today, I am sober, and I allow others to live their lives, meeting them with love to the best of my ability.
I know divorcing my children’s father was the best thing for me and ultimately for them. I’m now in a relationship that requires me to be my full self in order to maintain homeostasis. And I am a staunch advocate for my needs and feelings.
Living a free and beautiful life.
So what about you? Which of these beliefs are you still carrying? Tell me in the comments—I read every one.