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Cathartic Shame

lajubuart

I usually journal with pen and paper, but I ran to open my laptop because something tells me my thoughts are going to be way faster than my capacity to write this by hand. I’ve painted and written about how I view my emotional world as a long hallway with an infinite number of doors, each door representing a layer of something difficult that is on my radar to look at about myself. But sometimes, like last night, the door just BAM, randomly appears and I am left looking like a deer on headlights. “This is something BIG, something I did not know that I was holding so deeply in my subconscious. I thought I was already at peace with this… maybe there were little remnants of it, but this much?”.

 

Let’s talk about shame.

 

Let’s talk about shame, but not from the perspective of us being victims of it, but more-so compassionate, wise, understanding observers. Yes, I am asking you to be incredibly tender to the parts of you that make you cringe, that may feel a kick in your gut, that may make you nauseous. The parts of you that hold so much shame that you have promised yourself to never open that door again and you’ve “mastered” to live an entire life without that phasing you, because the Band-Aids you have placed over them happen to be extremely durable.


If you do not know me personally, I will give you some context. I love humans. I love our deep capacity to transform when we are connected to the tenderness in our hearts. I love hugging, I am extroverted, and although I am not loud, I love talking to people. I rarely get shy if at all, and I feel so grateful at life for the knowing that I get when my heart is completely aligned with what I am doing. I have put in copious amount of time in understanding human emotion, in forgiving myself, in not only accepting, but celebrating myself, and in being so unapologetically authentic, that not only do I not have imposter syndrome when I write, but I also do not have it when I share my paintings. Because we are never imposters when what we are creating is coming directly from the heart. Whoever believes they have reign or authority over the wisdom, light and richness of the heart, and many do, I smile at them with compassion and keep going, never giving a second thought to their opinion or comments, because they just don’t understand. I hope one day they will. And when that day comes, their hearts and eyes will be in delight of everything that humanity has created with the vulnerability of an open heart. I also believe having imposter syndrome is handing over your power, allowing something external to dictate your worth and the worth of what you create. Who is so important that they have so much control over the gladness, joy, and beauty of your existence?


Now that you know a bit about me in my Light, let me introduce you to my beautiful Shadow. As painful and as uncomfortable it may be to look at you, dear Shadow, I am profoundly grateful for you. You have been my wisest teacher, and it is thanks to you that I stand where I do today, with an abundance of love, compassion, and trust in my heart. I feel a knot in my throat as I write this. A knot that has just turned into a profusion of tears that are about to drop from my very heavy eyelids. Tears of gratitude and a healthy expectation marked by our history together. Because the moment this door of shame “suddenly” appeared, I knew that I was about to dive into your waters and come out shining even brighter, like a flying fish out of a pond with its wet skin glistening in the sun.

 

There have been small instances lately when I have noticed shame peeking through. One I remember clearly was at an art sale. An artist I really admire was there, and years back, he was at the studio that I had just been awarded. I had reached out to him previously to ask him for tips about applying for the space, and he very kindly replied. When I saw him in person weeks later, I greeted him and made sure to thank him.  I am a self-taught artist, unlike him, so naturally, he has more knowledge about technicalities and art supply brands than I do. I picked up a brand of oils I had never heard of and, in trying to bond with him, told him that I was looking for another brand. Well, apparently that was a mistake because the brand I was holding was one of the best, most obscure brands out there, and how could I not know that. He didn’t say it like that, but that is how I received it, and that is when I noticed shame peeking through. Shame is a master at feeding our minds with magnified and self-sabotaging interpretations of small triggers that exist to show us where we need to heal. This small interaction that I am sure he doesn’t even remember, showed me that some part of me believed I was small. That some part of me believed he was above me, better than me, more worthy than me to bring art forth. That some part of me wanted to feel equal to him by having a conversation about oil paint and feeling like I belonged in that conversation. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t get to that understanding until this morning, months later. At first, the feeling of shame lingered, and it would come up through other small circumstances, in a variety of settings, not necessarily having to do with art. I do not believe ANYTHING is coincidental. On the contrary, I believe everything is energy that comes up to be acknowledged and to bring us some sort of wisdom, especially when the energy camouflages itself as a trigger. And when the energy is ignored, it will continue manifesting itself, disguising itself in multiple scenarios, until you either chose to acknowledge it, or you are forced to. A person or situation never causes a feeling; it brings a feeling to light. It was already inside you, using the opportunity of the person or situation to show you that it is still there. Therefore, some situations cause people anger, annoyance, joy, or sadness, while other people may not be too affected, but would be affected by something else. The goal isn’t to be apathetic; it is to be an observer of what comes up. We are human, our most beautiful feature is our emotions! We decide if we let them reign us or guide us.



"The Room",  Oil on canvas, 36" X 60"
"The Room", Oil on canvas, 36" X 60"

So, let’s talk about last night when the door seemed to appear out of nowhere. I say “seemed” because it had been hinting at me for a few months now, and it took what happened for me to say “oh! I see what you are trying to show me.” You could say that I use these doors as visual representations of the energy of Shadow wisdom wanting to direct me towards what needs to be transmuted.


What happened is that I was working on a painting for 9 hours. I was in the zone, but for some reason, I was having vivid memories playing back-to-back of the most obscure interactions where I felt deep shame throughout my life. I am talking all the way back to when I was a little kid, through high school, through college, through my first love, my second love, my adult life, to yesterday morning during yoga. I am 34 years old. Those were a lot of short films playing in my mind. I remember driving back home and thinking, “what the f*ck was that about?”. I was taken back precisely because of what I know my relationship with myself to be. I haven’t just read books and hoped to grasp the concepts. I literally embody what I want to transform in my relationship with myself. The reason why I am so passionate about the message behind my art and writing is because I have either felt the catharsis of those transformations, or I have lived them enough to understand the deep value in the leap of faith I am taking as I am about to embark on a transformation. And of course, I am still learning and growing and applying a lot of those hard lessons. It just took me by surprise that the freedom I feel in being unapologetically myself was coexisting with such deep-rooted memories of feeling small.

 

And therefore, I had to open my laptop instead of my journal. Because that was a hell of a discovery full of realizations that would’ve probably led to very painful carpal tunnel. I love you, hands, and I need you to be healthy for painting, yoga, writing small entries, and holding hands.  

 

What I am understanding about this priceless gift that I am receiving through these memories, is that it is time to lovingly shed that stagnant energy that doesn’t align with who I am. Writing this is a very strong beginning in growing the wings of this little caterpillar. Something that I have learned is that it isn’t necessarily about going to the root situation of what brought about the emotion, because it isn’t about the situation. And I feel like it can be very easy to fall into a victim mentality when we approach it as “all of these things happened to me and now I am this way”. It isn’t about the situation because it is about the emotion that was brought to your awareness because of it. Being a loving spectator of this emotional reaction, without judgment, with compassion and understanding, is incredibly transformative.

 

Allow me to use an example of one of the memories that came to mind while I painted. When I was in high school, I had a boyfriend that would make mooing sounds after we slept together inferring that I was fat (he had been the only person I had slept with at that time). Whether I was fat or not, is irrelevant because no one deserves that. I was in the lower- to mid-range of the weight of someone with my height and proportions, but it planted the seed for eventual immense weight gain and bulimia.


If that ex-boyfriend happens to be reading this, which I doubt because we’ve lost touch, just please know that I do not judge you. It was important for me to receive that at that time because of where I am today. You were young, with your own struggles, without the tools to work through them. I have made comments in my life that have deeply impacted people, too. I forgive you and I thank you for everything I learned from that experience.

 

Anyway, in the 2-year relationship, I never felt valued or truly beautiful. At that young age, we seek that validation exteriorly more than ever.  So, I did. I remember drinking at a house party and realizing that some of the guys thought I was beautiful. I remember kissing one of them and them being in disbelief that they were kissing Laura Buitrago. I will never forget them saying my full name because I was so surprised someone felt this attracted to me. I slept with his best friend, and like 2 other guys in the following months because I felt sexy and desired. I was still in the relationship with that guy, so when everything came to light, of course I felt shame. In any case, one of the random, obscure scenarios that came to mind while I was painting was having lunch with a coworker while I was in college, and her telling me: “I’ve heard you’ve been around the block”. What a random memory to come across- from that entire nucleus of shame, this comment years later is what came to mind as I painted.

 

So, this morning, as I remembered the sudden appearance of these memories, I realized that they came at the perfect moment. They came at the perfect moment because I now have the tools, self-respect, self-compassion, and self-love to hold myself in all those versions that experienced a feeling of smallness throughout the years. So, fierce little Laura, confused teenage Laura, jaded young adult Laura, Laura from a few months ago that felt like she shouldn't have the credibility to paint if she didn't know that particular oil paint brand, all versions of Laura: it was all part of the plan. You were meant to feel small, annoying, dramatic, like an imposter, like you were too much, because it brought you to a place where you can now value the importance of the opposite, of the truth to your core. Any small moment of shame happens to remind you of your own power, of your own vastness and abundance. It appears to remind you of your worth and right to shine in the ways you were always meant to. If anyone makes you feel like you have handed over your power, even if it is just for a millisecond of doubt, thank them for reminding you that it has nothing to do with them. Everything is perfect. Every single life, every single circumstance, every single interaction is perfect.

 

This is what it means to be a loving observer. You do not take things personally; you take things with curiosity.

 

I love how every painting happens to be aligned with my internal process. I just finished painting Amor Fati, and this is what I wrote:

 

Amor Fati, Oil and Mixed Media on Canvas, 48"x48"
Amor Fati, Oil and Mixed Media on Canvas, 48"x48"

Everything is essentially neutral- we dictate our experience with our responses/reactions. Neutrality doesn’t mean apathy. There is such deep love in this approach, because it is a love without attachment to outcomes and without conditions. It is a love of our fate, of deep trust and acceptance of the situations that we are facing and choosing to approach them with loving curiosity. 

 

This is when free will comes in. We decide- do we adopt even more suffering by resisting? Or do we transform, evolve and free ourselves by understanding that absolutely everything has a divine purpose? That absolutely everything, especially the painful parts, the parts that cause us resistance, is a teacher that appears so we find our way to our own light and shine even brighter. What is on the other side of that resistance? Of that need to control an outcome? Of that grasping tightly? Can we approach that space with love, as if it were a scared child needing our understanding? How beautiful the world can be when we approach life this way. You are so held. But you decide if you see how held you are, or if you convince yourself that you are a victim, that everyone is out to get you, and that you are alone.

 

Love your fate by acting on your free will to see everything as a gift. You are a fractal of creation.

 

 

 

 

 

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