Chewing on the Taste of My Shoe
Turning Social Blunders into Pathways of Understanding
I will never forget this moment. I was about 14 years old, at my first stay-away summer dance camp. I had a few friends I got along with, and we had gone to a museum for fun as a group outing. There was a scale in one of the exhibits—see how you weigh on different planets. We, of course, all weighed ourselves. One girl was visibly upset by her results compared to the rest of us. She started to get hard on herself about her weight. We all tried to comfort her. Now, what I should have said was something more like, “You’re not fat, don’t let these silly numbers rattle you.” But what I said instead was, “Maybe you weigh more because you have bigger boobs.” She was immediately insulted and told everyone else what I had said. They were all horrified by it, and yes, they stopped talking to me and shunned my friendship for the rest of the camp.
Now before you start to judge me, let me explain where I was coming from. This girl who weighed more was physically more mature than any of us other 14-year-olds. She had a C-cup chest and a womanly figure, while the rest of us were either non-existent or a small A, basically prepubescent. Had I been aware of her self-image issues about her more mature body and the fact she had to wear a bra (or 2) under her leotard, I would have said something different, but come on, I was 14 years old and didn’t have that perspective. My intention with bringing it up was to communicate that her weight had nothing to do with what was in her control. She wasn’t fat and ate no differently than the rest of us. She had bigger boobs simply because of her genes and hormones. Her weight was not her fault, so she shouldn’t be so hard on herself. I had good intentions, but as the saying goes, “the road to hell is paved with good intentions.”
Anyway, I bring this up because recently I was reminded of my “foot-in-the-mouth syndrome” that I seem to be cursed with (courtesy of a natal Retrograde Mercury). I feel this old story arise in the past weeks, and I struggle to hold it with loving compassion. I feel the tenderness and fear of saying the wrong thing even when I mean something different. I feel this curse especially strongly with other women. Anyone else out there with sister wounds? Many of us show pleasantries to one another’s faces, but behind closed doors, other feelings stir. And as a highly sensitive person (HSP), I feel these things. I can see body language and facial responses to my energy like a hawk—programmed from a childhood where it was a means of survival. Watching carefully for the smallest of hints to determine whether I was in danger or safe. And yes, I accept that there is a certain amount of projection from this old wound onto others’ reactions to me, and yet my mind struggles to believe otherwise-that my judgments upon myself can be no different than what the person I am speaking to also believes.
I am a writer because the blank page is always patient with me and gives me plenty of space to gather my thoughts and then communicate (and of course, revise and edit). But in large groups where you must respond quickly to be heard at all, this is when I find myself tripping over words with my “foot-in-mouth.” My default then rests in saying nothing at all. I become the quiet one, reserved, the wallflower - boring, with nothing of interest to say. As a teen in large social settings, I was either too intense or vying for attention. So I did the opposite, shrunk myself down so as not to be seen.
Inside, I was begging to be noticed, pleading with the universe that someone would ask me anything, anything at all beyond the small talk of “how are you?” Invite me to speak and share my thoughts directly, otherwise I may not dare to take up space. It seems every time I open my mouth to speak, someone else jumps in before me. And when I do find the space to speak, the topic is now completely different. So I curl up in my own mind, having conversations inside, saying my peace from safety. Yet my desire as a kid is still present in the now—a desire to be seen and heard.
To be seen or noticed was a dangerous place for me. I bore the brunt of criticism from everyone, it seemed, growing up. And now, at 33 years of age, I see how this is reflected in my inner critic. And how I have this burning desire to be seen for who I am. Perhaps that was my secret wish in writing my book—if you really want to know me, read it from cover to cover. I am a multi-faceted creature, thanks to my Gemini moon. I am so much more than the surface of a pleasant disposition. I have depth and feelings aplenty—I have traveled into the dark night of my soul and walked through to the other side. Rarely will I judge another, yet why is it that I judge myself so harshly? Why is it so hard to believe that I am likable as a friend, that people want to actually spend time with me? I know I cannot be liked by everyone, yet I acknowledge I have a heartfelt wish to be seen clearly, without judgment. Yes, I may say what I mean all screwy, but maybe that can be endearing?
Reflecting on this, I realize how important it is to hold space for others, and for ourselves, without judgment. Our words and actions carry weight, often more than we realize, and can profoundly impact those around us. The desire to be seen and heard is a fundamental human need, yet it can be so easily disrupted by misunderstanding and haste. By cultivating patience and empathy, we can create environments where people feel valued and understood. This not only nurtures our own sense of self-worth but also fosters deeper connections and mutual respect in our relationships.
As we navigate our interactions with others, let’s take a moment to reflect on our own words and actions. How can we be more mindful in our communication (body language and verbal), ensuring that our intentions are conveyed with clarity and compassion?
I invite you to try a simple exercise: stand before a mirror and look into your own eyes. Speak to yourself with kindness, acknowledging your worth and the unique qualities you bring to the world. “You are LOVED. You are SAFE. You are WORTHY. You are WHOLE. All of you is WELCOME here.” Consider the ways you can extend this same kindness and understanding to others.
Share your experiences in the comments below or reach out to me directly. If you would like to go deeper with the potency of mirror-work, I am available to hold space. Let’s create a dialogue about how we can better support and truly see one another. Your insights could be the key to helping someone else feel heard and valued.
Always in all ways,
