A few days ago, I called my Aunt to wish her a happy 84th birthday. We had not spoken in some time, not by phone. Life gets in the way, but we have a great bond that began many years ago with a letter.
I was 19 when my Grandmother, her mother, passed away. My Grandmother was a writer and wrote to all of us often. I can still see her secretary where she wrote those letters in my mind. Photographs tucked into the woodwork and glass above the desk. She wrote to the people in the photos. She wrote to me at times when I needed it most, although I never knew how she knew that I needed her. Losing her was this first time I had experienced a profound loss.
My Aunt, her daughter, took up her place as my supportive pen pal. Not often, but the timing was always just what I needed. I am sure my father had something to do with this. Over the years since, my Aunt Nancy has always been there in the background, when things were tough reminding me of who I was and that I would find my way. She was at my wedding, telling my husband that he found a good one. She was there to remind me to believe it too. She was there in letters, when my diagnosis of Bipolar Disorder in my twenties both rocked my world and saved me.
She said, “you sound so good honey.”
It was more than just a statement. I knew she felt it through that connection on the phone. I am happy. I did make it.
We talked about writing and how hoped I would I help someone else as much as she and Ma (my grandmother) helped me. I am the current generation of “the writer” in our family.
As I was working with a client a few weeks ago, I knew that she too was not trusting her intuition. I had traveled this path and could see it clearly. She had one persona for her work and the other that was just there in the background if you read between the lines. Her truest self was there, but it was hiding. She needed to know that those subtle pieces of her soul did reach her audience unless they were really paying attention. It was hidden in the very few photos on her blog with her family. This was a huge part of who she was, but she had separated it from her work. She needed to serve the others and herself, by letting them see it too. She needed to trust herself.
Here is a little of what she wrote back to me, “…you really hit at the core of me… I want to say thank you though. You care so much. And you help me think about myself in a new way. ..”
The ultimate betrayal is when we betray ourselves. Worst yet, we cannot share our best work with the world if we are hiding the very pieces that define us. Those pieces when you can feel joy over a phone are the ones that are the truest part of you. Just talking to my Aunt reminded me of how far I have come, and how much I have to share.
We are always on our right path, but somewhere along the way you muted your intuition, you stopped trusting it.
This is what Jeane and Nancy would say…”you are strong and gifted. You can move mountains. You just need to trust your gut.”