Carrie H. first guest posted here on Emerging from Broken in March and her post “Self Love and Navigating the Waters of Grief” was a big hit. Carrie writes with passion and beautiful emotional imagery and I am excited to publish her second post. Please help me welcome Carrie back with her second contribution here as we light the path to emotional healing by shedding light on the empowering truth. ~ Darlene Ouimet
Defined as the Problem by the Age of Four by Carrie H.
When I was very young, maybe three or four, my mom asked me to carry some glass bottles up the concrete steps leading up to a neighbor’s house. On the first trip I dropped a bottle and it shattered. My mother was very upset with me, but she let me try again. This time, I was so nervous that I would drop the bottle that it slipped through my fingers and broke. She was furious. She yelled at me. I don’t remember exactly what she said but it made me feel like she thought I had intentionally broken the bottle just to upset her. There was no way to prove that wasn’t true. It was the first time I felt trapped behind a lie about myself that I couldn’t prove wrong.
It was the first time I felt like I was screaming into the wind and my words were carried away. It was the first time I felt like I was placed into a box; a box with glass walls that gave the illusion of freedom. A box I couldn’t escape, yet couldn’t prove was there. No matter how hard I tried (and still try), I couldn’t escape that box. How could I possibly prove that dropping the bottle was an accident??? How could I possibly prove I wasn’t unkind? Eventually I adapted to being trapped in that glass box labeled “unkind” and “selfish” and I became comfortable. So comfortable that even I stopped seeing the walls.
Until one day I stumbled upon them.
I realize that I’ve been trying to prove that wasn’t me my whole life. The li