Goddess as possession; Goddess as beloved
I have been called “Goddess” by not just a few people over the past few years, especially. I am still in denial about the adoption of that title. However, there is something about a woman who can possess her body and soul in a way that shows who she is in an instant that is exciting for people. Those that cannot, live vicariously through those that can…until something happens. And then, suddenly they can. That something happened to me at age 42. And everything had to change. I realized how I had shortchanged myself through settling in every way inside my marriage. I realized how I had never given myself the time of day and denied my worth by doing so. I realized that my children were watching and I was responsible for stopping the pattern, immediately.
Yes, the change was quite sudden and violent inside me. There was no going back, either. The realization that my marriage was keeping me small, denying me air to breathe, and would never allow for the blossoming of my soul forced me to make hard choices. 4.5 years later, yesterday, the divorce was final.
The man I am dating occasionally calls me goddess, in text or in person. He is not messing with me. He loves my curves, my strength, and my sass. He loves that I do not take “no” for an answer and will do anything for my children’s health and safety. He loves my cooking, my bossiness, my jokes, and my work in the world. But he also loves my mascara-streaked, tear-stained face, my deep grief and fears, and my messy hair in the mornings. This is a different kind of love.
My ex always professed his love to me. He said he loved me and he loved my body. He never talked about my heart, except that I was too nice and let people run over me and shouldn’t (when he was the one I let run over me). He thought my thoughts were scary and controversial and made sure to tell me how I needed more information and, conveniently, he had it. He is an overeducated man with BPD. He said he loved me, but I didn’t feel it. He said he loved my body, but why did he look at other women and comment about theirs as well? He never called me goddess, but he did call me a perfect storm. I was intelligent enough, pretty and friendly. He never talked about how he admired my drive, my intellect, my passion for truth and openness, and desire for healing for all of us. There was only shaming and gaslighting about all this. We only needed healing because I was a mess. I needed to get it all taken care of. But when I did that, it took funding and that…that was shamed as well.
To be a possession-to be used and discarded repeatedly-is a part I learned and performed well. What I am now learning is how to be the goddess that others see in me. As I own more and more parts of myself, I stand taller. But, I also know how to lean in. I do not walk away from pain anymore because there are lessons to be learned there for myself and others I love. I will ask my village to support me and grow through their nurturing. I will continue to push away the lies that I am small and insignificant; that my words do not matter; that I am not intelligent enough; that I should accept less than absolute adoration.
To be beloved-to have that adoration and learn to expect it-is a role I want to remain in. To be given grace and mercy; to have forgiveness on the table at all times; to be protected from emotional harm as well as physical; to be told repeatedly that I am more beautiful-inside and out-than I will ever know…is a place to be planted.
I have been loved before. Friends, family and a large community taught me what love was. But to be beloved; to have a person dedicated to me, my happiness and truly interested in my becoming, is new and exciting. To be a goddess is something I will continue to reach for. Creating beauty from the ashes of hardship, pain and grief is the work of the goddess. Living in strength, knowledge of my worth, and joy no matter is where we find her.
