The Carcass In The Web

By: Leahanne Woods Smith

All the years of not using my voice I’ve been caught in a web.

The web was of all the things I accepted as truth that were just part of the noise of fear.  The web was made of the social construct I was born into.  Those who I trusted told me the web was real.  The web was made of those perceived limitations that I held like cement within.  The web was made of obstacles that I had taken on as permanent holding walls.  The web was things I unknowingly kept as secrets.  I watched others thrive.  As a school girl, I sat still accepting my death comfortably.  I knew I couldn’t act because I knew I couldn’t speak.  I was a trapped animal within.

But, I understand why I got comfortable sitting still.  There is so much to benefit.  You get to take in a lot of life through watching others.  Through allowing yourself to sink in and be still, you understand and feel a lot beyond what is said to be necessary for living as a human child in society.  You become a beacon of compassion.  But, you also become a confused bucket of fear when it comes to action.  I got so nervous that it would cause me to be sick when I knew I would have to play baseball in physical education class.

For the first half of my life I have been paralyzed by fear.  I’ve stepped out to do certain things.  But, anything that would take a lot of communication with others I’ve mostly avoided.  I didn’t know for a long time that much my avoidance of life was due to the voices in my head, which repeated in their own unique way.  The voices told me that I wasn’t good enough, that I wasn’t like other people, and that I wasn’t capable.  I did the world a favor and stayed hidden and quiet.  I lived apologetic for my being.  As I grew older, into teenage years, people’s words and actions continually hurt me.  I was a mere dehydrating moth floating into death in the webs of others.  No one saw me.  I was glad.  It was more comfortable to be alone if I had to be that vulnerable and die that way.

There were times in my younger years that I was so dried out and hopeless.  I remember realizing that I had no personality of my own.  I just reacted in the ways I saw that was considered to be normal or polite when people spoke to me. I was so afraid of my own voice, so afraid that it would cause me to be rejected.  I’d much rather that they just stay guessing at who I was.  And, I’d rather have quick moments interacting with people, and then be left alone instead of trying to have meaningful conversations.  It’s no fun to keep talking when you’re pretending to be OK.

That was then.  This is now.

Now I practice sharing my voice with whomever is around me.  I’ve shared my voice enough now that the right people wind up around me to hear the messages that come from me, from deep in my soul, from spirit.

I dare myself to dig deeper, to find more and share it openly.  It has become a fun game to play.  Life has opened up to me wider each time I break an old agreement of unworthiness and share my truth.

I’ve found that others were going through the same things that I have been through.  Both the good and the bad are beautiful now.  There’s no need to hide and feel ashamed of truth.  It helps others and myself whenever I dare and share.  It opens doors into life we never knew was there.  Life feels limitless and loving now that I love myself and all of life unconditionally.

Over the continuing markers of my true voice appearing to me, I am realizing that I am no longer a dead carcass hanging in a web.

A breeze came.  After I let go of the life I thought was mine: my sufferings, my shyness, my need to hide, my vow to stay silent and hidden, the breeze took me away.  My carcass remained as a marker of where I had been.

I was taken away by death.  I floated into life again.  Within the same body, in the same lifetime, I am new.  I am full.  I am well and able.  I am my true work which is love/light.

Instead of waiting for others to ask me a question before I speak, I now share my stories, my experiences, and spirit that moves through me.  I love my life.  I love my being.

My grandmother used to tell me, “Leahanne, you have just as much right to be here as anybody else”.  She used to worry about me being so shy.  I get it now.  I thought I got it years ago, but I didn’t, not the full message.  I got the message now, much fuller, in my own unique way, in my own sweet time.  I got it the only way I could- through befriending, and freeing, my voice.