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    Redefining Her
    Redefining Her
    Redefining Her
    Ebook129 pages1 hour

    Redefining Her

    By Georgia Wolfe-Samuels

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Redefining Her ..... I impart within these pages some of the most defining moments of my journey-experiences with childhood afflictions, trauma, toxic relationships, disruption, self-sabotage, lessons learned, and ultimately my transformation to self-acceptance, self-

    LanguageEnglish
    Publisher13th & Joan
    Release dateMar 8, 2021
    ISBN9781953156396
    Redefining Her

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      Book preview

      Redefining Her - Georgia Wolfe-Samuels

      PART I

      PART I

      Peeling Back the Layers

      The most powerful message is the one that you tell yourself.

      Georgia Wolfe-Samuels

      PART I

      Peeling Back the Layers

      Face the Past, Heal the Future

      Van Jones

      Introspection can be one of the most challenging processes in life. I used to wish my life came with a reset button, especially the ugly parts that have caused me shame, pain, and grief. My childhood was not picturesque. Neither was my adolescence, or my early adult years for that matter. In fact, it was not until age forty amid my disruption (discussed in Part II … keep reading) when the lens through which I saw my world changed. Prior to this process, there were experiences that when interpreted formed the core of my belief system of how I viewed myself, and which contributed to my unhealthy life cycles. The journey to self-love and accepting myself despite my flaws required me to face some hard truths and lies I told myself about myself.

      Thankfully, I have come to realize that I am where I am and I am who I am because of my journey, and that God was in my story all along, even when I did not believe in His existence. God’s plan is not a quick fix plan. He is intentional. He is patient. You will need patience. His process is one of eternal transformation as He, surely in His time, unveils His power within us, and who He created us to be, removing the veils of our false sense of self whether self-inflicted or inflicted on us by others.

      While the following pages illustrate the tapestry of my personal journey to the root of my becoming, the challenges are not unique to me. God is in your story as well. There is wisdom in your wounds.

      Chapter One

      Self-Sabotage

      The Personal Lie

      Take a day to heal from the lies you have told yourself and the ones that have been told to you.

      Maya Angelou

      Self-Sabotage – the personal lie is the tale we tell ourselves about who we are and what we deserve and don’t deserve in life. It is an inaccurate belief or perspective that disaffirms our intrinsic sense of worth—shame, anger, unworthiness—resulting in the outer manifestation of these inner feelings in the form of unhealthy behaviors or limiting thought patterns. Whatever the form, self-sabotage always diminishes the passion and energy we need to achieve our goals, fulfill our dreams, and to respond to the world in POWER (Perspectives. Optimism. Wisdom. Empathy. Respect.).

      The Mother Wound

      I was the youngest of two daughters for my father and the youngest of six children for my mother (four sisters, three of which I knew nothing about until age 17, and one brother). I grew up in Jamaica, West Indies for the first eleven years of my life before migrating to New York in December 1990. Nine years prior, my mother migrated to the United States, unknown to my father while he was at work. She took me with her initially, from what I came to understand was a brief moment before sending me back on a plane to Jamaica. I don’t recall speaking to or seeing my mother again until maybe age five (could have been earlier) when my father and I showed up a day late for what was either my maternal grandfather or grandmother’s funeral in the countryside of St. Elizabeth, Jamaica. I never knew my maternal grandparents.

      My mom was scheduled to depart back to the States the next morning. I recall sitting on the edge of the bed in the guest room where she stayed, looking at her in awe while she dressed and packed in preparation for her departure to the airport. She was beautiful. She was tall and slender, with caramel-toned skin, features I did not possess. I took notice. It made an impression. As she walked toward the mirror, she removed the pink curlers from her hair and began brushing the thick, bouncy curls of her shoulder-length hair, which was highlighted with streaks of bronze. Later in life, I would learn that she was a hairdresser by profession. I admired her intensely in that moment in an attempt to capture everything I could in the event I did not see her again. I was fascinated by her beauty. She brushed her hair with a silver antique brush, to which the matching comb and mirror lay on the dresser to her left. I was sad that she was leaving. Back then I longed for her, which was maybe why I asked her if she would leave with me the antique brush and comb set she was using (that was after I already asked her if I could go home with her). She responded with a resounding no before offering me a travel-size bottle of Keri lotion as a replacement. Another impression was made. Some thirty-five years later, it would be revealed that it was at this moment that Half-Pint me was born—when I first told myself the lie—I was not worthy; my mother was leaving—again without me, because I was not enough. My skin was not caramel-toned, and I did not have long, beautiful bouncy hair like she did, and therefore I was not beautiful. This is my first memory of her and would be the last time I saw her until I was 23 years old and a college student in New York. Not hearing from or seeing my mother for another eighteen years solidified this lie. The childhood traumas that followed further reinforced this lie. Half-Pint me, was the version of me that operated and responded from a tenet of fear, unworthiness and the belief that I just was not enough. Subconsciously, this experience formed the core of my self-belief and influenced the cycle of choices I would make throughout my life, including my relationship with God—that is until The Disruption.

      I often hear that in the early years of a child’s life, their brain is like a sponge, keenly absorbing all the information around them. These formative years establish the foundation of their personality and self-confidence. In the words of my dear Pastor Dennis Rouse, children are very good receptors but very bad interpreters. Children are considered bad interpreters because they lack the experiences and the wisdom to analyze events or situations. As a result, there is the risk of false interpretations. In my personal story, the issue here was not the event of my mother telling me no or her leaving me. Instead, the issue was my interpretation of why she told me no and my interpretation of why she was not a tangible part of my life. Maybe the brush and comb were sentimental to my mother, which influenced why she could not part with them. Or maybe she was just not the nurturing type. Whatever the reason, it really did not matter. What mattered was how I internalized this experience. I interpreted my mother’s absence to mean that I was not worthy to be loved. For years I longed for her, that she would visit, call, or write. I would frequently wish that my hair was like hers and daydreamed of her brushing my hair (looking back, this was the reason I continuously prodded my father for a perm until I finally got one at around age nine). Yearning turned into anger, not directed at my mother but instead at God. While at the time I was not a regular attendee at church (unless I was at my paternal sister’s house where we were forced every Sunday to drink our porridge and attend Mount Carmel Baptist church), I heard of the Divine, but I did not have a personal relationship with Him. In fact, I impressed upon myself that if He did in fact exist, He did not love me. For if He did, He would not allow me to feel the pain I was feeling as a symptom to my mom’s abandonment and from my dad’s resulting anger. As a result of this thought process, nothing I did was ever good enough, a perception that lingered into my adult years as I continuously felt that I had to be more and do more in an effort to be considered worthy, but never quite getting there. Graduating from high school

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