A long time ago, I was painfully shy and horribly quiet. It often meant being overlooked. It didn't help that I am not a tall person either. In the last couple of days my little school in the middle of the sticks had a Facebook page, sharing an upcoming 125th celebration. I began to see photos from my childhood place. A significant place in my story and sense of shaping as a child and young person. We had moved there after a couple of short term stints elsewhere once my family had come home from the Northern Territory. |
In my school photos, I'm always on the end - that's where the shortest one goes. I was the only female in my year 10 class - there were five of us - who didn't have a leadership responsibility in the school. It stuck as a sore point for a very long time. Did I have something to offer? I was just too shy and overlooked. It's felt like for all my life I've needed to heal this sore point. That something was supposed to validate that yes I "should" have had something to offer. I had thought that various things were supposed to make it better. But really, that hasn't been the case.
In recents weeks I've had reason to wrestle with this part of my story. But it's in the touching of a life reality from a long time ago, and the seeing a journey since that I'm now recognising the healing, the peace finding in this sore point.
I look at what I do now. I talk in front of people all the time. I hold together lots of things around multiple communities a behind the scenes all the time. I give direction and guide processes for others to do their work for their community. I have worked in teams of people to bring together major events involved hundreds of people, and stood up in front of people reciting or telling stories. I've held the hands of people who are dying and stood in spaces of care for family as they've said goodbye to their loved ones. Sacred space holding that one. I've shared my thoughts in a meeting of a couple of hundred people where I felt ver vulnerable, but brave. I've stood up to those who've held power out and attempted to hold others down with it. I've held space in community as it wrestled and felt angry with sudden and surprising news that brought great grief.
I still get a little nervy - the arm pits sweat, and tummy churns. That's probably a good thing. It keeps me real to the people before me. That little sore point in my childhood story, can sit at peace. I have had something to offer, I have brought much to the world, in a way that has helped others to be their best selves and do their best work. It's rare for a group of people to walk away being disgruntled, more often than not they are so glad for the time together.
I look at that small little shy quiet girl sitting at the end of the row in a school photo and think, she would never have imagined the way life has actually turned out. Not in a million years could she dream of what has emerged. I think if she had known she would have run a mile or more. And she wasn't a runner either! Short legs don't go far fast. . . . .
So young Denise, you can put that sore point down now. Be proud of where your story has gone. Celebrate the gifts it brings to so many people. Continue to be courageous beyond your wildest dreams. And quietly keep becoming who you are being shaped into. Cos it's looking a bit spectacular.