As far back as I can remember I didn’t fit in. I didn’t feel that I belonged, even though I lived within a family - blood descent. But I felt shy, unsure, unloved. I was made fun of for my looks and deformities all through childhood and even into adulthood. I could never just be a regular girl-next-door.
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| Skitterphoto on pixabay.com |
I was awkward with friendships, let alone adult relationships. I struggled to earn a living, as I lacked confidence in whatever I pursued. I was smart and loved learning, but to believe in myself, when I didn’t think I mattered much to anyone, well that was a huge block for me.
I’ve always had a heart for the underdog. Anyone who has struggled, or been ridiculed, or outcast. I understood their pain, their sadness, their sense of isolation. And the injustices of their treatment, whether it be the low castes of India, the slaves, the Native Americans, the poor, the immigrants. I feel with them. They are treated as different, less than, unworthy. They do not deserve that. Their treatment comes from people who expect entitlement, but are insecure and selfish. This selfishness led them to steal the land, place burdens on indigenous people, rig voting rights, and passed on to the next generations the racism, prejudice, and injustices. Even to today.
I’ve always felt different. In my collective consciousness I have memories buried of the deep struggles of mankind, generations before me. I have a heart that weeps for and loves them all. I have a mind that understands that they must do what they can to survive.
I have a vision that beyond this world we who are different will unite. We will belong. We will be strong.
We are one in the Spirit. Theresa M
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| photo by Riccardo Maria Montero, flickr.com |
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