Writing - Making Sense of My World & the Projectors (BONUS TMI Story)

Hello, you absolutely amazing person, you. How you doing? Welcome back to my channel. If you're new here, thanks for checking this out. And if you've been on this journey with me, I love that you're on this journey with me now. If you have been on this journey with me for a while, you know, the last little while has been a journey. I've been unpacking. I finally got my office clean. Look, nothing on the floor. I'm so proud of that. But as I decided not just to unpack this time, to actually go through things. See, does it still serve me? Do I still want it? Do I still need it? All of that kind of stuff and a whole bunch of people are going to enjoy the stuff that I'm giving away that I no longer need. But in case you didn't guess yet, I was that 8 year old with the diary. I was the teenager with the journal. I have been writing as the way to make sense of my world, to support my reflection and growth for as long as I can remember. In fact, for years I've been saying it would be easier for me to give up breathing than writing. So what I discovered is a whole bunch of old posts. And today I actually wanted to share two of them with you. So one is written in January 2015 and the other one in August 2021. So for one, they have something in common. The unpacking, the looking at what other people taught you about you and getting to that wonderful stage in your life where you decide, wow, they were wrong. I don't need to believe this. I can put it down. So I have a question for you today. I want to share these with you, but I like I said, the first one January 2015, the second one, August 2021. Have I changed? Has the woman who wrote the blog post in 2015 changed and grown by the time I wrote something in August 2021? These posts have never walked together before. I find that kind of exciting. So let's talk about it. Hi everybody. My name is Sandy Boucher. I'm Red Thunderbolt, woman of the Loon clan, a proud member of Seine River First Nation and Treaty 3 territory in northern Ontario. And I have dedicated my life and energy and time to Indigenous Canadian reconciliation. I spend a large portion of my time working with non Indigenous business entities, nonprofits, government ministries and departments, helping them to. Helping them by sharing our perspective, an Indigenous perspective, so they can understand why their initiatives aren't working, and then helping them to tweak those initiatives so that the time and effort and money they put into them actually reaps the results they hope for. And the other half the time I still support, encourage, love and guide first Nation individuals who are doing the marginalization, who are trying or who are marginalized and are doing the process of unpacking that realizing that our value is not determined by someone else. Even though we were raised in a country that tried to tell us it did, helping them to realize that another person's vision problem is not our value problem. That that just because someone else can't see your worth doesn't mean you have worth. That your worth was gifted to you on the day you were born and that no one can take it from you unless you give it to them and you or give them the power to and that you had value before that person walked into your life. You'll have value after they leave as well if that is what's going to happen. So I've been on this unpacking journey for years. I now consider myself a very empowered person. I'm a confident person. I'm also a 10 year domestic abuse survivor. Please don't believe that that was a constant in my life. I worked really hard to get here and a lot of that process was this unpacking that I'm talking about today. So as I said in the opening, I want to share two blog posts with you and let's see if I grew. Let's see if I changed the first one I absolutely love. I know that might sound like an ego trip, but I was. I did a good job with this one. I can celebrate that. It's called Bad lighting. And again, it was written by me on January 26, 2015. Here it is. She was beautiful. So tiny, yet so chubby. She spent her days laying in her crib, playing with her hands and toes. She was warm, she was fed, she was happy. Her world was beautiful. But in no time at all, babies are lifted from their cradles. Outside that warm and safe place, they meet others, others with opinions. And the images start. Daddy saw her as beautiful, intelligent and strong. She was his little lump of sugar. And to him she was perfect. And soon, that is how she saw herself. Yes, she could walk on water. Yes, she could become anything she wanted to be because she was willing to work hard enough to achieve it. Daddy, as it turns out, was her first projector. And in the warmth of the light he cast, she forgot to be real, to look at her own hands and toes. She began, became the image he cast. And the world was beautiful. For 17 years she stood in that Light basking in the love and comfort that his image of her provided. But all too soon ended and his lamp light went out. With no projector, she disappeared into the crowd, into the masses, without any definition whatsoever. Or so it seemed to her. But she so desperately wanted to be again. So she set out to exist, to find another projector. He thought her useless, stupid, lacking in any worthy values. And for five years she stood in that light. And deep inside she began to believe. And then another. He thought her stupid, arrogant. Arrogant. Someone who needed to remember who she was. And for five years she stood in that light and truly began to fear it was true. And then yet another. He thought her intelligent, accomplished, not his type, but definitely worth learning from. And for seven years she accepted the image he cast upon her. She shared and she loved and she prayed that one day she would be so much more to him. Seven years. But it never happened. Looking back, it is obvious to all how the light cast by those projectors defined the woman she was, the goals she set, the life she led. But one by one, she walked away from those that would cast such negative images. Something didn't feel right after all. It was time to find out. So one. One ordinary, yet not so ordinary day, she set out to find herself in a strange new world with no projectors. She remembered her hands and her feet. She remembered she had long, beautiful legs and great eyes. She remembered her intelligence and sense of humor. And she began to love the image. She finally saw the image in the mirror. And now she dances in her own light, comfy with the opinions and images cast upon her by others. Some of those images she likes, some are so far from the truth to not even be worth considering. But none define her anymore. For now she clearly sees her own image. An image designed by creator, gifted to her at birth. She is beautiful. As beautiful as she has always been. Even in bad lighting. Do me a favor before I share this next one. And before I forget to say this. If you know someone who is struggling with low self esteem, perhaps someone who has survived one of those relationships, do me a favor and share this video with them. Please. Just. They don't need to watch it publicly in the privacy of their own home, on their phone, in a quiet place. Place. Don't be surprised if they start crying. And please don't stop them from crying. Crying is healing. It's just a sign that you're ready to release this. And for the people that need to hear that entry, they have stuff they need to release. So as mentioned, bad lighting was written on January 26, 2015. The next one is a short poem, and it was written on August 11, 2021. And I'm writing this to a potential new dude, you know, some guy I might consider dating. And that's the emphasis. That's the word to focus on, I guess. Consider. I guess. The entry doesn't have a title. I wonder what I would call it. What would you call it? Here it is. If you look at me and see my flaws, my tiny wrinkles, not nails, but claws, the extra pounds, my voice too high, my height too much, my chest, like a guy, tell me, please, I need to know. Not because I'm unaware, not because I'm slow, but because I need to hear. Not yes, ma' am and yes, dear, but what you really see so that I know you're definitely not for me. Dana. Nana. So, my friend, are you still struggling under the weight of other people's opinions? Or if you have. Or have you finally started to dance in front of that mirror? I caught myself. Here's a true story. This is so tmi. This is not even funny. But you know what? It's something I would have never done before, and I love that I did it now. It's probably about six, eight months ago, and I. Okay, I just got out of the shower. I was just about to get dressed, so I was like, au natural standing in front of the mirror, and I caught myself jiggling my belly. And it wasn't. I wasn't covering myself up in disgust. I wasn't like, oh, God, I'm so fat. I was laughing at the fact that I have a tummy. And that is what I would wish for every single one of you. I'm dying to know. What did you think? Bad lighting? What would you call that second one? Did you see any growth? I really think I'm going to turn that first one into a nice graphic print. I really like that one. The projectors. Watch out for the projectors. Be your own projector. Doesn't matter the image they have of you. What's the image you have of you? Because, as my mom would say, you're the only one that's going to be on this full journey with you. Make yourself proud. Enjoy that image. Until tomorrow, my friend. I love you. Take care. Bye. Bye.