Are You Searching for An Answer?

Do you know the answer might appear where you least expect it.

I search for a higher good in my art and writing. A purpose. A why to what I do. An answer to how I can benefit others.

I ask and I wait for an answer, knowing answers can come in various ways.

An answer came in a response to one of my posts.

Barbara, you’re a transparent vessel showing us all to just love ourselves… exactly the way we are. I keep wanting to say sorry for the pain — but you’re teaching me to say, — I’m glad you are who you are with all you’ve been through and have accepted… Amazing talent from the moment you were a young lady! Thanks for sharing with us!

Could it be that simple? Just be who I am? Share myself with others? Be transparent?

Yes, maybe that’s my answer. My ability to share my experiences. To let others know they can survive their pain. To look beyond a terrible situation. To learn from it. See choices.

Natalie is so right: Pain has made me who I am today. So why feel sorry for what I’ve gone through? It’s made me who I am.

Instead, gratitude seems more appropriate.

I’m grateful for what I’ve survived. Grateful I’ve been able to transform my pain into something positive.

Our pain. Our hard times. They can all be teachers and provide us with great insights if we allow ourselves to feel and be open to learn. To not stay stuck in the same old ruts that keep us unhappy.

To become whole, we need not cut off half of ourselves. I think of Yin and Yang, the dark and the light. Together they make up the whole. Complete a circle. Not one without the other. Not shying away from facing darkness. It is often the darkness that gives light the most meaning.

Look for those small glimmers of hope. The hidden treasures.

As a child stuck in an abusive home, I trusted my inner guidance. Found small pleasures providing hope and joy in my dark surroundings.

For me, it was creativity. I loved colouring books. The ability to choose which crayon to use. To stay within lines, or colour outside them. An activity where I had some control. Where I had choices. Where time did not matter.

Then I learned to draw. Again, I entered that timeless place. I felt calm and peaceful there. Noise and confusion couldn’t enter.

Books. Reading. It also allowed me to discover worlds beyond my own. To know something different was out there.

A rented house was two doors down the road from my childhood home. It became a magical place. A place where people came from away. People, so unlike my family. Opening my eyes. Giving me hope that not everyone in the world was like my family.

But as I grew older, the trail got twisted, and I stopped listening to that inner voice. Desperate for love, I sought others like me. Hurt young people looking to ease their pain.

Alcohol seemed like a magic potion. But it truth, it held poison.

Alcohol gave me a false sense of power, watered down my choices, allowed me to me wallow in my sadness. It dimmed that inner voice I’d once listened to. I lost hope.

Running from my pain took me to darker places, both within and outside myself. I created more bad situations, accumulated more pain, and believed I was unlovable.

The lesson is not to run. Or try to hide from pain. But to learn from it. Let our pain guide us to that voice within that knows what’s best for us.

To love our self. All parts of our self. The dark and the light.

To become whole again, as we were when we first entered this world, before people who couldn’t deal with their pain passes their wounds onto us.

Ask the question. Ask for what you need. Get back to following your inner guidance.

Know that answers can appear in various ways. A book. A symbol. Words in a song. Or the response on a Medium post.

What you do matters. How you treat others matter. Share your authentic self. Be transparent.

Be kind.

Please share what has brought you a sense of hope. Share if you trust your inner voice. And how have you received answers to your questions.