Peeling Onions

makes me cry.

I’m peeling layers from my own onion now. Layers that I let sit there for years. Layers that have turned a bit stinky and moldy. Layers of myself that I don’t recognize anymore. Layers I’m not always sure how to get rid of. Layers from childhood. Layers from young adulthood. Each layer comes packed with memories of that time. Things and people that hurt me often coupled with self-criticism of how I could have handled it differently. But as I peel those layers, I see it all quite differently now. I’ve done a lot of reading and research to uncover parts of my personality and how they were developed starting in childhood.

Looking at those parts of me that I may have in the past viewed as “wrong” or “bad” and understanding that they are not that. Understanding that I can now view them with compassion and discover new ways to release them as needed. The layers that I viewed in that way are the ones that have stuck with me the longest. They are the moldy ones that I’m just now figuring out how to peel back. They are the ones I dwelled on for too long, giving them, the type of attention I actually needed to peel them back and OFF. They are the ones I would brush off and tell myself “I’m ok,” “I’m strong,” in hopes that others around me might also be ok and strong beside me. A survival technique that later developed into people pleasing. A trait that causes me to often put the needs of others before my own. A trait that often slows me down and affects my mood and creative process heavily.

Peeling onions makes me cry. There’s no way around it. I see a parallel between the onion and myself here. Once the onion is exposed in its most raw form, the reaction of those around can be intense. I think most of my adult life I have kept those layers on to avoid the possible reaction of those close to me. Not wanting to bother people with whatever may be under those layers. Too raw for some to handle. Too messy (stinky) for others to understand. Too strong and sharp for others to feel comfortable and stay close. I guess the truth is, those that cannot stand it, have not peeled many onions including their own. I’m finding out that when those who find me to be “too much” “too sensitive” or “too dramatic,” it usually means they may also need to take a look at their own onion and maybe do some peeling.

I am a highly sensitive person who is just finding out in her late 30’s that she has battled with anxiety most of her life. Growing up, I would tell myself “I’m fine” a lot. I would find ways to brush things off as much as I could in the moment and then go find a corner to cry about it later. I still do. Crying was and is the only way I felt I could release the grip anxiety would have on me. It was a literal outpour of emotions that needed to come out. The result of a pressure cooker of feelings that were trapped within me. I would wait way too long to get to that point of release. I would hold on to the layers and feelings until I had no other choice, and then the tears would come pouring out, (often at some inconvenient times.) I was often told I was too sensitive or overly dramatic. I was reminded that the world is harsh, and I would need to build some tougher skin to survive.

Well now, I call bullshit.

The more I learn, the more I realize that we are conditioned to believe we need to push the overwhelming stuff away. I know better now that the only way is through. Through the emotions. Through the layers of our emotional onion. Through the tears but not without analyzing why they showed up in the first place. To sit with the onion a bit and maybe let the tears run down your face. To maybe evaluate what that layer is showing you and what lesson you can learn from it. Some of the layers are stingy. They don’t peel back so easy. These are the moments when I get extra anxious. Feeling as if I may never be able to shed them. That I may never be able to learn the lesson they are trying to teach me.

But I know that’s not true. I know some things take more time than others. I know that I need to peel the onion at my own pace. That pace that for others may come sooner and pass quicker than for me. That doesn’t make the process any easier, but I know those things and remembering them brings me little comforts along the way. Like onions, we all grow in different soil and the way we develop is dependent on our environment. Some onions just don’t grow in certain environments.

I did some research on how to grow onions and ironically enough, my research taught me that onions grow best when they have enough space around them and lots of sunlight. I can relate. The thing is we can’t always get the sunlight we need (especially when you live in Berlin) or even the space we may need (sometimes life is just life-ing.) Life moves fast and sometimes in mysterious ways. So, I guess I’ll continue peeling the layers until I have the space and sunlight to grow some new onions within.

Choosing big change (or sometimes we don’t choose it, it just comes) is usually the place where I’m met with my layers. Whether big or small, the change is a catalyst for the layer evaluation. It’s the part of life that says, “stop what you’re doing and look around.”

What is this moment trying to show you?

What is the root cause of your emotions?

Where can you shift your perspective or environment to better adapt?

Those are the questions I’ve been asking myself incessantly. Those are the questions that peel the layers. The answers to those questions are the ones that heal the layers. Never all at once, but gradually. Taking the space to ask those tough questions and allowing some metaphorical sunlight to shine on us, (the small things that bring us joy) is how we get through. That’s how we are able to plant and grow new emotional onions for ourselves.

So, let the tears roll down your face if you need that release. Find the space you need emotionally (and maybe physically) to expand. But most importantly remember to find your sunlight in whatever form that may be for you in this moment.

Peel.

Heal.

Repeat.

With Big Love,

-Nat Gilmore