Too big for your boots?

I don’t know how many of you heard this expression growing up.  “Now don’t go… getting too big for your boots… getting a swelled head” or other such ego joyfilled deflating comments.  “No one likes a boaster” and so you learned to stay quiet about your achievements and try to fly under the radar as much as possible so as not to be noticed or draw attention to yourself.  But secretly a more knowing part of yourself may have thought.. well I did a fairly good job on that or I’m proud of it but shame came to be associated with such thoughts or ideas so you quickly learned to cut yourself down to size.

And there can be something said to having a balanced or well proportioned opinion of our selves, of our strengths and weaknesses but never the less having cold water thrown over your passion, creativity or fire can be so disabling and it can make you fear ever shining a light or standing out from the crowd in any way.

I was prompted to write this post after reading back a couple of my earlier poems from this year and feeling a sense of pride.  “That’s a pretty good piece of writing,” I thought and for once the critic didn’t answer me back.  However at the same time as I had that thought the expression I opened this post with came into my head and I had an inward smile to myself as I remembered growing up how one of my favourite songs to sing and dance to was Nancy Sinatra’s These Boots are Made for Walking.  

My Dad had a grocery store when I was younger and sometimes after he shut it I would dance along the counter singing it.  When I think of the collapsed hidden inside person I became in later life, who could only sing and dance if she was drunk it strikes me as sad.  According to my family I was overly dramatic and needed to be taken down a peg or two but I know my sheer joy in being and expressing at that time never came at other’s expense.  It was never an attempt to feel better than or shine brighter than anyone else, it only came out of the sheer joy of expression.

It’s probably why when I went to see Mama Mia Here We Go on Tuesday with my sister I was smiling and felt a spark lit deep within me.  I just loved all the sheer power of teh unbridled expression in it, as well as the colourful costumes, sets and signing and dancing.  At the same time I was also aware of Nun in black robes on the sidelines dissing the out and out extravagance and rampant self expression of it all.

I have a lot of grief for what got cut off in my life all of those years ago when I was young and could only burst out when I was addicted (drenched as I came to be in toxic shame for just being alive).   Its a tragedy that inner spark or flame of creativity and joy which I possessed so often had cold water poured all over it, but I also know that was not the end of the story for me.  I hope to reclaim some of that sheer joy that got lost and start to live closer to my creative fire less stuck in a box by the dissing energy of an internalised inner critic that lacks a sense of joy, fun and sense of humour.  For me it really is time to start living and let the grieving go knowing that I only have to stay as trapped within old conditioning and prohibitions as I allow myself to be.