Bullied into Compassion

Life teaches in strange ways. What did she say?

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Creation. (Art by Martin Mancha)

To work or not to work.

That has never been a question.

But what’s work?

Really.

If not to create.

I’ve never considered work as work that’s probably my vice. I like to create. I like it way too much. But there is a certain way to. How do I want to create?

I like to learn. Stimulate my mind. Awaken my senses.

Hyper-vigilance state turned into art.

It’s been 18 years. Eclipse season closing cycles.

My sister reminded me of it a few days ago. I had completely erased that out of my memory.

There was a time where I used to cry myself to sleep every night

because

I was bullied at school.

For my weight.

For my curiosity.

For my sensitivity.

For my intelligence.

Kids can be mean sometimes. Especially in a hyper prestigious french school in the midst of ex-colonized country. My sweet Morocco.

And so I found refuge in imaginary dreams of creations.

of success.

of ultimate escape.

Day dreaming my way through life.

I found refuge in books.

I found refuge in writing.

I found refuge in puzzles.

I found refuge in creation.

The bullying got me sick. Trauma response. Diabetes. 10 years old. Way to deepen the experience.

Forever alone in my loneliness.

Eventually.

I lost weight. I learned to play dumb. I froze my feelings.

And.

Became the bully.

Yet

That loneliness never fade.

What a childhood I’ve had. 3 near death experiences. Bullied into a chronic illness. Angry teenager setting the system on fire. 

I’ve experienced both sides of the coin. Lived through so many lives. 

What does it even has to do with work?

My identity has been so tied to my life creation.

I don’t see a distinction between work and life. Is that bad?

I keep thinking. I keep feeling. It’s that knowing again.

Isn’t life just a vehicle for making your life’s work?

Work is such a misleading word.

I keep asking.

The person I am today.

Eventually.

Self awareness got the best of me. Perception perceiving my way out of.

Trauma is made up. Adler said it and I stand by it.

Our experiences shape us.

But

Our experiences do not define us.

Our choices do.

Be. Do. Have.

According to Olivier that’s the only way.

3rd Kriya already got me reflecting.

What shaped the Be?

Why do I Do the way I do?

Why do I Have what I currently have?

It got me wondering.

The pandora box opened. Yet again. Does it ever close?

The pandora box makes a great russian doll.

Paper dolls. Tales of beheaded barbies. Joys of growing up with siblings.

I always wondered what’s the main teaching? Why having to go through all the pain, the rage, the suffering. Now I finally get it. 

Compassion. 

It was teaching me compassion. 

I can’t lead without it. I can’t create without it. Or maybe I can. But what would it be of? Compassion is the core. The compass. The anchor. Now I see it. Now I get it. Now I’ve learned it. 

To inspire that I know how. 

To break the system that I know how. 

To be compassionate I did not know until now. 

Self image transcended.

The pieces of the puzzle puzzling together. 

Self compassion unlocked.

It only took me 18 years.

I wonder what the next 18 have in store?

But if anything now I know.

The silver lining amidst the tears.

Is always present in bliss.

and.

To feel the way I feel.

About work

About life

About myself

Is a privilege.

It is always right.

It is always valid.

It is always welcome.

As long

as it feels so in the depths of my soul.

Maybe I am different.

But.

‘ What beauty are those who do not find their place among so many people. It is not loneliness, it is a privilege not to fit in’ - Alejandra Pizarnik

And often what we perceive as loneliness

as pain

as suffering

is but

a teacher

of compassion.