“You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.” ~Anne Lamott
“Don’t start none, won’t be none.” ~African-American proverb
My jaw hurt.
The left side, specifically – that usually welcoming and receptive yin part of me that’s all “What’s that you say about freedom-yearning huddled masses?” had been vacillating between mildly irritated and big mad for several months, the reasons for which I was keenly aware but unprepared to confront. However, given my knowledge that physical ailments always possess an energetic component (and because I could pay them in-kind) my initial consultants were members of my witch tribe.
“What are those rocks you’re chewing on?”
“I see marbles in there.”
“Whose teeth are in your mouth, because they’re not yours.”
“What aren’t you spitting out?”
“Bitch, you’re a truth teller. Tell your truth.”
I’m not certain why I felt compelled to be quiet about the cause of my suffering, but I do know the compulsion wasn’t serving me. After all, Auntie Zora been told us: “If you are silent about your pain, they’ll kill you and say you enjoyed it.” And thus: in the spirit of authenticity, new moons, Libra season, closure, vibrating higher, and honoring auntie wisdom, your girl’s about to get loud(er).
My jaw hurt because of a feast of falsity my then boss (whom we’ll call “Tyke”) was attempting to feed me, which I was refusing to consume. Seems Tyke decided it was vital to keep me in a “place” by trying to shovel shit down my throat right after I established my first real professional boundary with them. I put it up around my worth after going unpaid for weeks due to “organizational transitions”, a period that was followed by a persistent pattern of late compensation caused by Tyke’s seeming inability to submit payroll numbers on time. (That memo has been widely circulated, yes? The one that says you pay your people on schedule and/or give them notice when the case is otherwise? I thought so.) I questioned the phenomenon repeatedly, with increasing levels of exasperation, only to have my concerns dismissed.
This monetary snag was the creation of an energetic snowball that would end my relationship with Tyke as I knew it. Mind you, we were already in the storm – I just didn’t realize it at the time. Caught up in that ball, we barreled down a hill of cold war-esque frenemy incredulity that was exacerbated by dishonesty, manipulation, and major financial instability. Basically, I’d seen behind the curtain and backstage was in shambles. Basically, the more I experienced Tyke as a boss, the less I respected them as a person.
Our long fall eventually ended in the “termination” of my employment – while in the midst of rate negotiations, because of reasons* – and I finally felt justified about my barren field of fucks. Freed from any lingering requirement to play nice, I became aloof. Clipped my correspondence; started signing off emails with “regards”. In response, Tyke fired up cannons of delusional victimization: “I’ve been moving forward as a team.” – subtle undermining: “It didn’t make sense to continue investing in you.” – and blatant sabotage: “Most regrettably, we do not know of any animal psychic.” **
I could go on, but you get the idea; no need to keep bashing the horse corpse.
Where I’m from, being repeatedly dismissed and gaslighted by anyone is a feather-ruffler, so to experience it from someone who claims to be your friend, well…
“Nah,” said my jaw.
Turns out demanding fair treatment still strikes some people as “uppity”. (That’s code, btw. You know about those codes, right? “Chicago” is one. “Angry” is another. “Thug” is super popular in certain circles. “Sassy” is a personal fave, not least because it was literally one of the adjectives used to describe me in the company farewell announcement.)
But “love and light” though.
Anyway, my professional and personal relationships with Tyke were finished, but my jaw still hurt because I was furious with myself for my role in co-creating the situation. I was pissed because I presumed a level of partnership and protection that never existed. I presumed our history, coupled with my job performance (which was exceptional – don’t get it twisted; you can check my reviews) would be enough to secure and maintain some semblance of equality. I presumed that, in me, Tyke saw more than just a profit machine (I was that, too – don’t get that twisted, either.) I presumed we’d be ascending side-by-side. Tyke was envisioning a vertical line.
I peppered myself with shoulds: I should’ve left after it became clear Tyke cared more about the image of the wellbeing of their team than its actuality. I should’ve kicked rocks when they were off flossin’ on global gallivants while I went hungry, even as I repped the hell out of their brand. Fear, that liar, had me convinced that I required Tyke’s connections and reach to succeed. It told me to keep my seat, even though it was uncomfortable and unsupportive, because maybe this was the best table to which I’d ever be invited to sit. I felt shame for spending so much time and energy tossing props at a person swimming in such depths of murky goop, and I really wanted our relationship to be anything but yet another example of that fucking invincible-seeming mother wound. I was afraid that all the guidance, confidence, hope – all of everything Tyke helped me uncover had been tainted and rendered false.
“NAH,” said my jaw.
I remembered: I did all that everything. Tyke may have shown me how to read the maps, but I found the treasure on my own. Because all a true healer really does is create the conditions and hold space for us to heal ourselves, and vice versa. It’s multi-way medicine. We’re all leading each other home; we’re all finding our way in the dark.
In the end, I’m grateful to Tyke – even as I excise them from my life – for holding that space and for pointing me towards discovering how to harness the power of my light.
Because my light is bright as fuck.
Now, I’m turning up my volume to match. It’s time. As I’ve mentioned before, (and will likely mention again) stakes is high – they’ve been high, especially for some of us. So, as we come through the past week/month/year/lifetime(s) and enter new phases of what’s-next, I invite you to be loud with me, if you can, when you can. Whenever you can. Make noise. Scream when they hit you, or hurt you, or lie to your face. Howl when they enter those places they have no right to go. Wail for yourself, for your ancestors, and for those who could not – and still can’t – do it for themselves.
And may our cries help us all make our way to the light.
* Those reasons are avarice and garbage person behavior, in case that was unclear.
** Of course I’ve got proof. Get receipts, my loves. Always get receipts.
