The most terrifying question my six year old self could be asked is one that probably wouldn't cause many to think twice. And yet, with the years I have come to uncover the secret shame that had warped my perception of success and my relationship to it.
It was 1992. I remember riding in the car with my friend and her parents, when all of a sudden, it happened;
"Katerina, what is it that your dad does again?"
Sinking into my seat, I prayed for the traffic noise to mask my hesitation and pounding heart. You see, even though I knew that "business man" was a legit title, I never really understood what exactly my dad did for a living. From simple observation though, I knew that whatever it was, it kept on changing.
As a result, my impressionable mind reasoned that since my father was not a doctor, or baker or banker or a lawyer or teacher or pharmacist (or allllllll the other one worded titles that would have made my life so much easier) that something must have been wrong with him.
As children we do this; attempt to make up for the perceived shortcomings of our parents. We internalize their struggles, many times even mimicking them as a subconscious coping mechanism.
And that is exactly what I did.
I became frenemies with success; idolizing the struggle as the utmost testament of courage and endurance; because after all, that was what father did best. Success might have eluded him, but boy could he put up a good fight.
I share this very personal story with you because underlying every problematic pattern is a simple glitch of perception.
Something untrue we once believed and accidentally kept believing; like a thorn embedded on the inside lining of our shoe. A belief whose infliction is so regular, it becomes our reality.
Ask your Higher Self to make that belief known to you.
Dedicate 5 minutes to write out what this post made you think of, let yourself simply express your thoughts.
Now, back to '92,
I took a few minutes to gather the description I had memorized, the way you would for ahistory exam and mumbled my best response.
"Oh he's a pilot, that's so wonderful!"
"Ice cream, ice cream!" my friend would seconds later blurt out --- god bless her--- getting everyone to quickly avert their attention to dessert.
(I never did correct them.)
Increasing my self-awareness on this blind spot has taken time. Somehow the ego likes to cling to any self-limiting belief;
Daily "tune ins", however, have weaved in a sense of compassion that now act as a soothing balm for that wounded little foot :)
Clarity is ours to claim.