By Design
Peace has always been a challenging way for me. I find myself in a state of perpetual turbulence, even when I block out external stimuli, and focus on being still. In theory, meditation seems like a calming way. Yet it’s in that still that my senses are the most antagonized. Perhaps that’s one of the goals of meditation, to become so still that even those antagonizing forces fail to trigger us. I haven’t reached that level yet.
Growing up, I was constantly bombarded with subversive messages — I felt like a burden to my parents, a nuisance to my friends, and never good enough for anyone or anything. I even questioned if my cats loved me, as they licked the tears from my face. These constant messages flooding in, even as I slept, kept me imprisoned in a cycle of worry, anxiety, sadness, frustration, and anger. Adrenaline elevated my perceptions and kept me on edge. I existed in survival mode, easily triggered, hyper aware, emotionally exhausted borderline numb. Survival mode also meant anticipating other’s moves, cultivating 2 or 3 escape routes at all times if I needed to flee, playing the diplomat to diffuse potential blow ups, agreeing so as to avoid confrontations and conflicts, being an expert in stealth and covert maneuvers, masking and mirroring to keep the peace and maintain relationships even if they weren’t authentic. Like a cat, my senses were always at their pique, rarely descending to a normal base line or repose. It was like drinking 3 shots of espresso every hour. My CNS was always on red alert.
Because I existed in this heightened state, where survival took precedence over self-realization, I never devoted myself to one pursuit. I never discovered who I was at my essence. I was adept at mimicking others, and assuming their traits as my own, but I never mined to my core to search for myself. I was always juggling passions, exploring different ways of being, never feeling satisfied nor comforted in what I was doing, where I was, or who I was with. This fostered a wanderlust that continues to this day — if I stay in one place too long or pursue someone or something to the fullest, I grow anxious, and question my motives and the other’s intentions. I need to keep moving lest I become content.
This inexhaustible urge for motion has negatively impacted my life within relationships, professional experiences, and self-perception. Through self-sabotage, I’ve destroyed relationships when I felt they were progressing and becoming too stable. After all, a stable relationship meant that at some point I would become just the girlfriend or just the wife, and lose the attentions of my lover which I felt needed a constant and consistent fuel of spice to stay. By accepting low pay, undertaking exorbitant loads of work in the effort to “prove myself”, and absorbing negative interactions instead of deflecting and addressing them, I’ve allowed it to negatively affect my professional experiences. It has affected how I interact with myself, what I believe about myself, and how I’ll value an outsider’s opinion above my very own.
This is why peace is a challenging aspect for me. How can I embrace peace when I’m in a state of constant turmoil? How do I confront the fear of laying down my arsenal and rendering myself vulnerable in order for peace to come? What will happen if I pray for peace, yet don’t prepare for war? It’s an uphill battle to reprogram the code that was implanted in me as a child, especially when that code is constantly being reimbedded by current stimuli and constructs.
This is why I understand how integral DNA is in generational programming, and why we just can’t “let it go” nor we can “forget the past.” Growing up in a perpetual state of fear, senses geared for survival mode, cortisol in constant flux, coupled with the absence of self-reflection and actualization, how can we appreciate and realize who we are as adults? If we don’t have ancestral information or family contacts, how will we understand that many of our feelings, habits, and behaviors are generational and ancestral, a blueprint of our genes. We must explore our pasts, delve into the darkest parts of our psyches and souls, meddle with our hangups, grapple with our fears and insecurities. This is a lifetime’s work, and one that we must pursue wholeheartedly every moment if we’re going to heal.
Peace will only come when we focus on it, and nurture it as if it’s a part of our very being. If we merely allow it to become an afterthought or a side dish, we’ll never know its power. Peace is a nurturing comfort, like a warm blanket on a chilly morning. When we wrap ourselves in it and are grateful for its presence, when we gently relax into it, we’ll gradually know that blessing of still. By design, I’m not an internally calm nor peaceful person. Yet I believe if I passionately pursue peace, it will come for me in time.
