I Wasn’t Telling the Truth

Ciao Amica Mia,

A few weeks ago, I included this photo of me in a Sacred Sunday blog.

I talked about the wonder of seeing my round rosy cheeks, thick dark eyebrows and youthful face – a long ago version of me.

The blog was inspirational, and I thank you all for your generous comments. But I didn’t tell the absolute truth.

When I came across this picture, I held it in my hands and stared deeply into the eyes of that young women.

I transported myself back in time and into her heart and soul. And then I cried.

At first just a few tears slid down my now not so full or rosy cheeks.

And then I ugly cried.

She looks so innocent and pure like the white snowflakes dusting her hair.

She looks confident leaning out the car window on a cold winter’s day.

Formidable, as if nothing can dissuade her from life.

The truth is she was struggling.

Her marriage to her childhood sweetheart had ended and she thought no one would ever love her again.

Truth is, this young woman, so filled with promise, thought she wasn’t worthy of love.

I remember so clearly as if I’m looking into a reflecting pool how sad I felt.

At the same time while I felt crushed with betrayal, I had this knowing that I was meant for more.

That may sound bold and pretentious. But it’s the truth.

Even as a child I felt there was a purpose to my life if only I could find out what it was.

These thoughts and emotions confused me.

Unfortunately, in my attempts to find that illusive aspiration I actually covered it over with “sex, drugs and rock and roll.”

A part of me grew up with the sole desire to become a wife and mother.

While another part of me believed that I had something to share with the world. If only someone would tell me what it was.

So, for several years I bounced from being a respectable professional men’s hair stylist to a wild child at night.

I eventually woke from my self-induced haze and began to create the life I really wanted.

For many years I was ashamed of that young confused and searching young girl, so I hid her in the dark corners of mind.

But if you’ve read my book, The Breakaway Girl: Secrets of a Tantric Yogi, you’ve met her.

The reason I’ve begun to reveal her to the world more and more is because she’s still a part of who I am. To reject her is to reject myself.

What’s important to know is that everything she ever did was motivated by the search for self-acceptance and self-love.

️Courage, from the French and Latin, cour – ag, means from the heart. She was and remains fiercely courageous.

The tears I cried for her when I held this old photo in my hand were not regret or shame. It was to tell her it’s OK.

Look how your life experiences have served you.

Look how your life experience have helped sculpt the woman you are today.

Look how your life experiences have helped you become a committed coach who shows up fully to serve your clients with intention and love.

I’m not a believer in everything happens for a reason. I actually think that’s spiritual by-passing and immature thinking.

What I do believe is that life will present us with a myriad of circumstances. And it’s how we show up and move through them that’s important.

Sure, some day’s we make more skillful choices than other days. But we’re always doing our best.

We will stumble and fall- that’s a given.

But never ever do we need to be ashamed of our past. It doesn’t serve our growth or transformation.

Instead, learn to take authorship of your life and write the story that’s written on your heart.

You owe it to yourself.

You owe it to the world.

With so much love, xoxo Paulette

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