When I was little I used to love dressing up, playing with my mum’s jewellery and spraying on her perfume. I would go into my room (hiding mum’s goodies under my arm, making sure she wouldn’t see I was ‘borrowing’ them), and play dress up, pretending I was a beautiful princess. I can’t quite remember how old I was when I bought my first lipstick, but I remember being told off for buying ‘grown-up things’ with my pocket money. And of course the disapproval and forbidding made the lipstick all the more desirable.
I also remember that I couldn’t wait to grow up. It didn’t feel sufficient being a child and there were too many do’s and don’ts that I wanted to be free of. As I grew into adulthood I became a beautiful woman physically, but I wouldn’t give myself permission to just accept this and be OK with it. It was just something you didn’t talk about or were supposed to be thinking about. Lipsticks and ‘beauty’ were frivolous, as was playing princess dress-ups and enjoying the feeling of a beautiful dress and how it might fall on my body. Those things were not to be talked about because they weren’t ‘important’.
I remember in my teens and early twenties being quietly sad about this. I was longing to express myself playfully, be girly and sweet, even silly, but I was afraid I would get frowned upon and told off for being stupid. I was brought up to believe that brains were far more important than anything else, to pursue a good education, and to make sure I was knowledgeable because that would be the marker of success. So that’s what I did, while I tucked away those feelings to be girly, sweet and womanly, because they would get me nowhere.
In my mid-twenties (now armed with my university degree), I discovered partying, party-drugs and a whole new culture that would now give me recognition for just being a free spirit, dancing wildly and letting myself express in a fun-loving way, the way I longed to when I was little. I wasn’t getting my parents’ recognition for this of course, but now I realised I was getting men’s attention and that people would see me, often dancing away on a podium and think I was just gorgeous.
But underneath the pretty exterior I was still a sad little girl. The nightclub and party scenes were harsh places, people would seem very friendly and warm at the time, but then as the night and drugs would wear off, everything would feel jagged and cold, and all I would want to do is get myself home, tuck myself into bed and cry myself to sleep – preferably in the arms of my then boyfriend – as I couldn’t bear to feel how lonely I actually was.
Those experiences still seemed to confirm to me that being playful, silly, sexy and just expressing myself freely were still only for a clandestine moment – a dark nightclub away from the realities of day to day life. Everyday living was all about making sure I knew enough to get me by, in my job and in my interactions with others.
Of course, this was deeply hurting me. Every morning I would get myself ready for the day ahead, putting on a front, the armour of the ‘serious, intelligent Katerina’, always rushing (and frowning) to get to places, to get things done, to impress someone or something because I never felt enough with how I actually was, naturally. It was exhausting and I felt very lost and empty inside.
So I kept searching for the answer to why I felt like this – or to put it more honestly – to make it go away. Eventually I decided that I’d had enough of the intimidating man’s world (as I saw it) of careers, corporate jobs and fast paced city life, and decided to quit all of that, move up north where life was quieter, and where there were a myriad of spiritual workshops to choose from to look for answers to my desperate riddle.
For a short while I thought I had found them. I discovered women’s circles and sweat lodges and breathed a big sigh of relief (literally). I could freely express myself! But it was very short-lived. In spite of what appeared on the surface with soft, feminine music, flowing dresses and women wailing their woes in the womens’ circles and sweat lodges, something wasn’t right. I was still living like a yo-yo, one day high and exuberant, and the next day an emotional wreck. Again, I was confirming to myself that being a woman in society just wasn’t an option: I’d be too weak and emotional and I’d be eaten alive (in my pretty frock).
So I was back at square one as it were, despondent on the inside, searching and seeking, knowing that I couldn’t really carry on like this. Even though things might have looked pretty on the outside, with a beautiful home, a partner, a large social group of friends, inside I felt so empty, and that emptiness was eating me away.
It was around that time that I attended my first talk by Universal Medicine and I came across a flyer for the Esoteric Breast Massage (EBM). I realised I had seen it somewhere before and this time I held on to it because it felt really lovely. What I read (and felt) did not purport to promise that I would discover the answers I was desperately looking for, but I could feel something else that I yearned for: Tenderness, Warmth and deep Nurturing.
So I booked myself a session, the first of which (and many more after that) was very confronting. They were confronting because I was treated with so much tenderness and respect that this was actually very foreign to me, even though I knew it to be the most natural thing I had always known. The love and care that I felt in every session was in stark contrast to how I had lived up until that point.
I quickly realised how much I had been suppressing what was naturally inside of me – this innate tenderness and sweetness. I got to feel how sweet and delicate I have always been, but how I had shunned this away, thinking it was ‘weak’. I realised I had been bashing myself day in day out for being so delicate because I never thought it was ‘enough’.
But even though this was challenging to feel, the re-connection to the delicateness and sweetness that I had tucked away far outweighed any feelings of discomfort. It was like I was meeting myself all over again, going back to the beginning, getting to know me, going on a first, second and third date with sweet, precious me and each time, going wow! I didn’t realise I am actually so sweet!
This exquisite re-acquaintance, with me, has become a commitment in my daily life. It’s not perfect by any means, but it has been a commitment to simplify my life, allowing more space and time for me to have time with me and therefore time to connect with the tenderness within. Going to bed early, waking up early, giving myself plenty of time to get ready in the morning, not rushing. It’s amazing how these simple routines of self-care can make such a difference. As I treat myself with the tenderness and preciousness I always longed for from ‘out there’, I connect and build the tenderness and sweetness that is within, so that this expands outwards.
All my life I’ve gone into all sorts of roles and identities as protection mechanisms because I felt too weak as a delicate woman in the world. Yet the irony and revelation feels so precious, because what I’m discovering is that it is this exquisite delicateness and sweetness that we all have within us that is the most powerful protection of all.
By Anonymous