Meet Little Susie

One of the most significant things that came out of my therapy a few years ago was the fact that I had not been trusting my instincts. What would happen is this. I would intuitively know something, then take it and analyze it, intellectualize it, rationalize it, blah blah blah. Of course, we can't run around all crazy just going with how we feel, but I had gone way over in the opposite direction. I would even say things like, "I am just not intuitive." But I am. So slowly I began to learn to listen to how I feel. It is an ongoing process.

The other day I had a feeling about something, and I didn't like it. But I knew it was true. I wanted to apply "logic" to it, but what I quickly recognized was as we would say back in the 1970's, a "cop out." I didn't want to accept the truth of my intuition, so I wanted to slip into what used to be old default, which is try to reason myself out of it. And I didn't allow myself to do it. I made myself accept the cold, hard fact of what I knew. And I'm moving forward with it.

It was a big moment for me, because I think I have sometimes (often?) hidden behind my intellect to keep from feeling my emotions. It was interesting and helpful to see it for what it is. I think the little child that we used to be still lives inside each of us. I wrote about the little girl inside of me here in Come Out and Play. I think the things I know intuitively come from her, from the wisdom of a child. I am listening to her more and more.

A while back, my dear niece sent me a picture of what she thinks is the little girl me. So here she is. Meet Little Susie.

Susan

Come Out and Play

I grew up in a simpler, more innocent time, where kids played outside in the summertime until it got dark. We knew not to get into a car with a stranger, but we weren't afraid of the world in general. We rode our bikes to the corner store to get a popsicle. We walked to each other's houses and knocked on the door. We would ask the parents if our friend was allowed to come out and play.

Two years ago yesterday I began this blog. Happy Blogiversary to me, and to you, too, since you are reading this. Thank you for reading. I hope I never waste your time. I hope you always find a ray of light in the sometimes dark things I write about. I hope you find something resonates with you in what have become my increasingly personal stories.

I am always truthful with you. I don't tell you everything about me, partly because my stories involve other people and I will not hurt them or embarrass them. But what I do tell you, is always the truth.

You may notice that I take really large concepts, thoughts and feelings and condense them down into something very small. It is how my brain kind of naturally operates, a way I give my world some order. It's kind of like I have cut off the top of my head (not bloody at all) and let you peer inside.

As time has gone on, I have begun to open my heart to you as well. It's something that is going on in my real life, too. I am on purpose making myself become more and more vulnerable. I am opening my heart to people and to experiences. It's like I am letting the little child inside of me come out and play. One of the dearest people in the world to me told me, "It's safe for her to come out now. You will take care of her and we will, too."

So the kid who I still am comes out of the house, one of her shoes coming untied,  her hair sticking straight up as she throws on a sweater. She skips and runs and plays and sometimes falls down, but no one ever died from a skinned knee. She asks for what she needs, and the grown-up me is continually surprised at how easily she gets it and how happy it makes her. She lacks any sort of self-consciousness, and this disarms those around her. She is just who she is, and she frees up other people to be who they are, too.

What about you? Can you come out and play?

Susan