The shoe

Leaping into trust - in more ways than one

When I was about 10 or 11 my mom ordered two pairs of matching canvas sneakers. I suspect they were meant for my sister and me, but my mom ended up keeping one pair for herself. Either they didn’t fit my sister or she didn’t like them, which was a strong possibility since they were an odd shade of green, somewhere between turqoise and forest green. Despite the strange colour I was thrilled. I was always secretly worried that my parents loved my sister more than me, constantly looking for signs that either proved or disproved my suspicion. Wearing matching shoes would signal to everyone that we belonged together, bound by our identical footwear.

However, as soon as I slipped my right foot into the new shoe something was off. It felt like there was a marble inside of it, right on the inside of my arch, and I pulled my foot out and slid my hand in. Sure enough, the insole had a big round lump on it, clearly a manufacturing flaw. At that age I still clung to the idea that adults, institutions, and people in charge didn’t make mistakes, and seriously doubted that anyone would sell merchandise that had such an obvious defect. I must have imagined it. When I told my mom that my new shoes were “weird”, she dismissed it. “There’s nothing wrong with them, don’t be so fussy,” she told me. That settled it. I must have gotten it wrong. Instead of trusting what I had felt, I disregarded it.

The next time my mom wore her new shoes I wore mine as well. I ignored the discomfort, trying to convince myself that it was all in my head. I didn’t believe what my body was telling me, since it neither fit with what my mom had told me nor my view of the world. Having to choose between believing my parents and myself, I chose my parents. What did I know? I was only a kid, frequently scared, and I had already learnt that I couldn’t trust myself. My parents told me all the time that there was nothing to be afraid of, making my fears seem foolish. They’d also told me often enough that I was too sensitive, too emotional, too much of a know-it-all, too selfish, and that I cried too often and too easily. Clearly, my feelings were all wrong.

Once you stop trusting yourself you look at other people for guidance. For decades I would seek validation, acceptance, and approval externally, letting people’s opinion of me make or break me. It wasn’t until about 3 years ago that my therapist taught me to check in with myself first.
“How does that make you feel?”
“What is your body telling you?”
“Where in your body do you feel it?”

It felt alien at first, a skill almost forgotten after ignoring it for so many years. But the knowledge was still there, dormant but not dead, and it has come back. At first I needed to remind myself all the time to ask, how does that make me feel? But now it happens automatically. And even though it’s invisible on the outside, on the inside this shift has changed everything. After a lifetime of desperately wanting to fit in, I’m now at peace with myself, going where my heart leads me.
That’s why I’m sitting at the Vancouver Airport right now, waiting to fly to Costa Rica to spend a week with 11 women I’ve never met. When I first received the invitation a few months ago my full-body response was immediate and unmistakable: YES please.
And trusting it, I decided to go for it.

So here I am, nervous and excited, barely able to believe that I’m doing this - not because it feels wrong, but because it feels so right. After a lifetime of searching for belonging, I feel like I’m on the right track; by presenting my true self to the world, the right people and opportunities are coming into my life.

Here’s to leaping, trusting ourselves, and fostering belonging over fitting in!

Have a wonderful weekend,
Miriam ❤️

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