"It's not what we need to learn, but unlearn." Bill Crosby

When I was a kid, I learned to read people. I became really good at detecting other people's feelings and needs, especially those people who were hurting me. I thought if I could figure out what was going on inside them, I could somehow keep myself from getting hurt. I got so good at knowing when they were happy, what they wanted and even when they were about to blow. There was a problem though. I didn't always get it right. Sometimes I did, but sometimes it just made me crazy. I was constantly on edge, constantly afraid, constantly trying to decipher what was going on inside the other person.

I became whatever people needed. But in doing that, somewhere along the way, I lost myself. I never knew what I wanted, or liked, or needed. I had this weird detachment from myself, almost as if I was separate from me. The sensation of not being present in my skin was like hanging onto a thin thread that I felt could break at any moment.

When someone asked me something as simple as what color I liked, or what food I wanted to eat, I went into a panic. Every decision became life and death. I agnonized over the craziest things. Once I stood in the store for hours trying to decide if I liked one color over the other. A friend was with me and he tried to help me figure out which I liked. Finally, frustrated, I asked him to make the choice. I did that all the time and then beat myself up for being so stupid.

I had been taught to not trust myself. As a kid, I was never allowed to make any choices. - not about what I ate, what I wore, what I wanted or what I did. When my father was hungry or tired and I wasn't, he cursed me, calling me vile names, - telling me I was so stupid and didn't know what I needed. He knew better. If he asked me to pick out something in the store and I did, he put it back screaming it was dumb and he wouldn't spend his hard earned money on something so useless. Whatever I wore, he told me to change to what he wanted me to put on. Everything I learned told me -not to trust me.

Over and over and over he and my mother called me names - stupid, idiot, garbage, worthless, deserving nothing. I believed them.

When I began to heal from all the abuse, I realized I had learned so many things I needed to unlearn. Learning to trust myself was huge. I felt like I was in a war. Many times I fought with myself - throwing up, cutting and biting my arms - desperately wanting to make my own choices, but falling back into extreme panic - accepting the lies I had been taught - believing I was stupid and had no idea what I needed or wanted.

I needed to come home to my body. I needed to learn to live in my skin. It was terrifying. Somehow though, God helped me. He was my achor in healing. He gave me what I needed to fight. His presence, His gentleness gave me what I needed to come home to myself.