Two weeks ago I was bitch slapped by my shadow bag. It started when I discovered a loved
one’s lie. Naturally, I felt
indignant, hurt, and betrayed. How
could they do this to me?! I confronted my loved one calmly,
but with a quivering lip and a tear in my eye. Once the fault was admitted, I switched to ranting and
raving. I expressed my hurt
feelings. I instructed them about
the impact their actions were having on me. I stomped and shook my fist. I all but demanded an apology. Then, in the middle of my grandiose drama, up popped the
thought, “What does this say about me?”
Oh, crap! The dreaded
taking responsibility for my contribution to the situation. My righteous anger deserted me as
quickly as it came.
Life would have been so much sweeter if I could have played
the injured victim. I could have
basked in the glow of my loved one making amends for the hurt they caused
me. Unfortunately, I was trying to grow spiritually. “What did this situation say about
me?” The thought was there and I
couldn’t deny it. Slap! I couldn’t ignore the bag I was
trailing behind, after all, it had smacked me in the face. I grabbed it and shuddered at the slimy
dampness of it. Wondering if I
were opening Pandora’s Box, I carefully grabbed an end of the sharp, rusty
barbed wire and began to unwind it from the neck of the bag. I held my breath as I reached in. My hand shook as I searched the bag for
the offending cause. I grabbed a
hairy tail and something squeaked.
A green-eyed monster? No,
that wasn’t it. Ahh. Out came the truth. Not glittery and perfumed, but fetid
and oozing (that’s what happens to things when you keep them in the dark). I was codependent. There I’d admitted it.
The God of my understanding was bringing my shadow to light. Weeks before I uncovered my loved one’s
lie, I had bought Ashley Judd’s book All That Is Bitter & Sweet. I stumbled across the book at our
local bookstore when I was helping my daughter get her AP summer reading list
books. I randomly thought it would
be interesting to read about Ashley’s life and felt compelled to buy her
book. Days before the lie bomb
went off in my face, I started reading Ashley’s book. She wrote about her recovery and working the 12 steps for
trauma she had endured as a child. It was all beginning to make sense.
Now the God of my understanding gifted me with
guidance. I was at our local
library searching for books about blogging and internet marketing when I came
across Recovery- The Sacred Art:
The Twelve Steps as Spiritual Practice by Rami Shapiro. I recognized the hand of universal help
and grabbed it. Later that day, I
was on the internet trying to find a local spiritual teacher when I found Paul
Hedderman’s website (www.zenbitchslap.com). On his site, Paul wrote about his
alcoholism, working the 12 steps, and reaching enlightenment. Both Paul and Rami said we all are
addicted to trying to control life.
Slap! I wasn’t
perfect. I grabbed the dreaded
shadow bag and searched it again.
My hand brushed a blunt object and a glimmer of recognition hit my
brain. I could remember the very
moment I started to believe I had control. Paradoxically, it was at a moment in my life when I felt
completely powerless. I was only
10 years old and being forcibly held down by someone I trusted. I feared for my life and with good
reason. I desperately prayed for
someone to rescue me…anyone. A
knight in shinning armor, an angel, the hand of God…no one came. Miraculously, I survived the
incident. But, I was faced with
continuing life as I now knew it.
It came down to believing I had control or going crazy with fear. I chose to believe.
Thirty-six years later and wiser, I admitted I am powerless
over life and others. A heavy
burden fell from my shoulders and I breathed a sigh of relief. I still struggle daily with reminding
myself I am powerless over life and others. Whenever I start to feel perfect, I can count on my shadow
bag’s strong right hook. What’s in
your bag?
