Bigness

“Bless the largeness in me, even when I fear it.” Sue Monk Kidd, Book of Longings

My husband, Shawn will often say, “Amee,” in a disapproving voice whenever I do things that he deems accidental or foolish. I’m not the most graceful person so accidents occur quite often in my life.  It’s not unheard of for me to stub a toe or drop a glass.  Since retirement I have more time to slow down and pay attention to things but that doesn’t mean I have a natural inclination to do so.  It’s not unusual for me to leave the house, lock the door, get in my car, and realize I don’t have keys.  When Shawn uses that tone of voice while saying my name it’s  always grated on my nerves and, depending on my mental or hormonal stability of that moment, I’d let it go or turn it into a full-blown fight. 

Recently during therapy it was revealed to me why it bothers me so much!  My mom would say my name with a similar shameful tone whenever I did something displeasing to her. This “Amee-ing” occurred often as I’m not wired to be small. My mom preferred that no one would ever notice any member of our family and, if notice came upon us, it was because we were doing something completely normal – not exemplary, not shameful, but completely normal. I had and have no problem being the loudest or funniest person in the room. I’m not afraid of debate and, in my younger years, found it entertaining to debate something oftentimes taking the side of devil’s advocate.  I have no problem being noticed. I’m big. My voice coach once said to me as a teen and it’s stuck with me all these years, “If you make a mistake in competition – make it loud.”  During my college audition into their vocal performance program, the head of the department commented that she’s never seen someone so poised at eighteen years old.  My childhood was challenging in many ways and one of them was having my mother’s seemingly constant disapproval of everything about me, yet, I wasn’t able to control myself.  

During my late teen years many people would comment to me that I was fearless and brave and, based on my big life, obviously didn’t care what anyone thought about me.  I lived that persona but, with a secret. Whenever I was noticed and someone disapproved (whether it was warranted or not), I felt shame down deep in my soul. For all my bravado I cared deeply what others thought of me and would spend many nights trying to go to sleep ruminating in just how much of a screw up I was that day. I had a constant dialogue with myself every morning that today was the day I was going to be small and stop being too much for people, and everyday I’d be big and cry myself to sleep.

Through my twenties and thirties I figured out how to be smaller.  I got married, had kids, and found a home in a religious community.  It wasn’t hard to be small when blindly following someone’s rules of what’s good or bad.  I still had fun and said inappropriate things but a lot of my bigness was channelled into singing with the band at church or teaching children’s religious education.  Both of which were “acceptable” forms of bigness.  Every once in a while I’d question something and become big, but I’d always run into the same “Amee voice” from someone and would inevitably take on the shame they were throwing my way and become small.

Somewhere along the way I started to use busyness to channel my bigness. It is effective! When you don’t have a moment to think it’s an easy way to stay small. Tara Brach writes in her book “Radical Acceptance”, “Convinced that we are not good enough, we can never relax.” I was sure I wasn’t good enough and, if I slowed down any, I would begin to feel the shame that was perminating my body. In 2015, I helped launch a new crisis intervention program for our local rape crisis center. It was a big task and every ounce of my bigness was used and depleted. I soon was working 50-60 hour weeks with hundreds of hours of on-call time. It was a noble task and one I loved doing. It fed something good inside me and I was good at it. I was still taking care of my family as a good Christian should do, but I wasn’t taking care of myself at all. During the years of 2015-2018, I used food, smoking, and alcohol to cope with the demands of my life. Several good things happened as well, one of them being I started seeing a therapist during this time. The good work I did in therapy helped balance the scales of my emotional and physical health. I don’t mean for this paragraph to sound as if my life was horrible. It wasn’t! In fact, I’d say building the team and then running it was some of the most fulfilled times of my life.

The middle of 2018 there was a lot of upset and turmoil at work.  Some directly involving egregious lies told about me by someone I was extremely close to in my “real life” and some things that didn’t have much to do with me.  This turmoil upset the delicate balance of my life.  Due to the abrupt departure of someone at the office, I was promoted to second in command of the office with more responsibility.  I loved this upward move.  This gave me a chance to prove that I am worthy of love because I could do this job.  It came with a steep learning curve but I love a challenge and believed that if you throw enough time and hard work at something you will be successful — and I was.  December of 2018 memories started to surface that I didn’t know how to process.  These memories – on top of working 60 hour weeks for the past four-ish years – on top of eating and drinking like crap brought me to a halt.  I don’t remember too much of the month other than I know the static in my head was so great that I met someone toward the end of the month and, while shaking their hand, couldn’t remember my own name to introduce myself.

Before this time taking a vacation or PTO from work really just meant I worked remotely, but I took a true two weeks off around the Christmas holiday.  I drug my broken spirit into my therapist’s office more times than I remember and we slowly started to piece together my shattered soul.  And, I rested, truly rested.  I closed ranks and only saw or interacted with my immediate family and therapist.  I also happened upon a copy of “I Thought it Was Just Me” by Brene Brown.  Due to my misguided religious ways, I thought it was only acceptable to read “self-help” books by Christian authors.  Brene Brown was the first personal book (a book outside of education for my work as an advocate) I’d ever read.  It blew my mind.  The author of this book gave voice to the many thoughts in my head and allowed me a glimmer of hope that maybe the bigness in me was permissible and not something to be quashed down.  It allowed me to dream of a future not dictated by shame.

I quit my job in February of 2019, and I started my own agency with the thought that I would be in full control to only work 40 hours a week. I also gave my agency the freedom to see any victim of crime and not be restricted by funding to only work with sexual assault. I was successful at both of those things. I continued to dig deep in therapy and brought all the shit in my head out for contemplation and examination. Early 2020 I discovered that I found peace in nature and started taking long hikes at the National Lakeshore. I started on a diet program and, while making healthy choices, started on my way to an eventual hundred pound weight loss. I didn’t make a conscious choice to slow down my client load but, I also wasn’t hustling, as a result my client load dwindled down to just a few clients. When the COVID quarantine happened I was working mostly in our Superior court and, when the court shut down, the majority of my active work stopped as well. Even though my life was getting slow which allowed a lot of thought time, it terrified me to completely stop so I started doing home projects that had been neglected. One day during quarantine, while sitting on my living room floor painting a baseboard feeling a peace I have never felt, I asked myself, “What would it look like to retire?” Shortly after, during a hike with my daughter, I brought it up to her and she helped me flesh it out. Then, I retired.

I now spend most of my days reading anything I can get my hands on, riding my bike, and watching the birds, squirrels, and rabbits in my backyard.  I practice mindful meditation and when someone tries to shame me I don’t accept it.  Instead I breathe in, “Calm,” and I breathe out, “I am calm and I reflect things with no distortion.”  I still talk with my therapist weekly and we continue to peel back the onion of my life.  And … I’m big.  It’s still scary to be big.  That’s why when I heard Sue Monk Kidd on Brene Brown’s podcast and she talked about the line from, “The Book of Longings,”  “Bless the largeness in me, even when I fear it,” it hit me down deep.  I am meant to be large, and I’m okay.