Once Was

My name is Colleen.
I once was brightness and effort.
Impenetrable. Ambitious rebel. Strong coffee.
But I was also sadness wrapped in a smile.
Guarded, even from myself.

I know the ache of great loves lost.
I know the rebuilding from ashes that still smolder in the shadow cast by my own becoming.

And yet, even shadows require light to be given form.

This light, relentless and sacred, has once again illuminated the shape of a pattern. A soul-pattern. One I have danced with lifetime after lifetime. One you, dear Soul, may know in your own way, because none of us arrive untouched by contrast. We are all here weaving our shadow into light.

 There is one, in-particular, I speak of now.
A pattern, with its deep ache and sadness.
The one where I draw to me exactly what I fear most: abandonment.
The illusion that when I need someone the most… they disappear.
They freeze. They run.
They stonewall.
And I am left in that ear-piercing sound of silence.

Oh and when it lands ~ when I find myself in that desperate frustrated space, in pain; raw and real ~ there’s nothing. No reaching back. Just the icy silence of stonewalling.

And that’s when something in me snaps.

It hits like lightning. Oh and not usually the graceful kind… you know, the one that seems to dance in the clouds. Nope, it’s the kind that burns. The kind that fuels the anger of my inner child who screams: Can’t you see me?  Can’t you hear what I’m really feeling?

This is my fire born of being ignored one too many times. Of learning that big feelings aren’t welcome. Of being met with silence (the stubborn quiet) when I am screaming loudest for ‘safety’. 

This is the fury of the little one who held it together for too long.  The one who tried to be the easy one, the reliable one, the one who doesn’t ask for too much… until the pressure builds, the ignition gets sparked, and the lightning cracks her open. 

But this ~ this is the moment.
The sacred pause.

The place I usually let slip by because I’ve been seeking connection in places that can’t meet me.  Not because I run from myself, but because I forget to choose me. For so long I’ve been reaching forward, looking for something that may not even exist there ~ and in doing so, I’ve left mySelf behind. 

This time, I do a FULL stop. I press my back against the wall of my own fear.
I stay. I stand still in the blur, in the sting, in the blackness…
And I finally see, it’s me. Still me.
A forgotten version of me, begging to be brought into the light.
It is the place where I’ve abandoned mySelf—before anyone else ever could.

The reflection in this shadowlit space is her.
The little one.
The brave one who decided long ago that only she could keep herself safe.
Because her Dad, her first mirror, was gone more often than he was there.
Sometimes even in his presence, she felt the ache of his absence.

So she built the story.
She wrote the rules.
She entangled herself with people who would validate the narrative: that she was too much to hold, too inconvenient to stay for.
Even an emergency room visit couldn’t change this story. (You’d think the first ER wristband would’ve taught me ~ spoiler alert!: the Universe issues reruns until we get the message loud & clear!)

And yet, even as I unravel this ache, I feel compassion ~ for the ones who run, who freeze, who stonewall ~ the little boys who slam doors with their silence. They, too, are responding from the echoes of a child within. Their silence is not always cruelty, but often an unspoken ache of their own unmet needs. We are all mirrors, reflecting each other’s wounds and wisdom alike. And so it becomes each of our sacred and high responsibilities: to gather the little one within us, to offer them love and safety—so that what we reflect into the world is not our unhealed fear, but our hard-earned light. ✨

The ache that’s been long-carried, the one that’s shaped so many stories, is softening now.
The wild is still wild… but she doesn’t face it alone anymore.
Because the girl ~ she is here.
With me.
Awake. Eyes wide open.
Listening deeply now ~ to her own heart. 
Unbridled. Befriended by ‘fear’.

She is bright. She is impenetrable.
She is tenderness and grit.
She is seen.
And she is safe.

How do I know?

Because she is me.

And in the love that she is—there is only safety.
Only wholeness.
Only light wrapped in the wisdom of having known the dark.

She has proven to her inner child that she will never be left waiting in pain again ~ because she stays.

Her arms are raised now, not in defense but in praise.
Gratitude to the souls who do show up.
To the ones who stay when it’s messy.
To the ones who see her needs and don’t run.

Because this is how we break patterns ~
By recognizing what is new.
By recognizing what IS being offered to us.
By choosing not to abandon the parts of us that we pushed aside. The parts of us we weren’t fully loving.

Eyes wide open, I receive the reflection:
Of love.
Of presence.
Of care.

Of I matter.

Yes, I matter.
My needs matter.
I am allowed to be held.                                                          

And maybe, just maybe, so are you.

Big Love 🖤