Kris LeDonne 0:38

Welcome back to Picture Love. Friends, I hope you were with us to celebrate last week when we celebrated the 2.5K download celebration. My husband and some picture love listeners made special appearances. For those of you who have not listened to it yet, you might appreciate the YouTube version more because. There are some silences when there are things going on in the space. Mostly laughter because it got silly at the end, but if you wanna listen to a little bit of the cheer, please scroll back and catch that, especially on the YouTube channel for Picture Love podcast, I. And today's episode is quite a contrast. I'm probably being the most vulnerable I've ever been on the show before, sharing a symbol that awakened a story that awakened. A personified conversation with the guardian of boundaries. So a lot of things come full circle in this, and it's so emotional. I had to journal it and write it down. And so I will be reading portions of my episode today, which is unlike my usual unscripted conversations. So without further ado, we'll get started. A few weeks ago, I woke up with a strange image in my mind. You know that half awake, half still asleep stage, first thing in the morning, and there might be a fragment or a note, or a color or an image from your dreams. Well, I woke up with something really strange and random in my mind, and it was the image of an ape. A beautiful, full size black ape in its glory. I mean, just perfect image laid out, flat on its back on the ground, which was weird enough, but it had a chair on top of it, and it wasn't just. A dining chair or a folding chair, it was a red velvet, plush, upholstered chair in perfect condition, it might represent somebody who's very, very rich. Entitlement is the word that encompasses that for me. Anyway, the con, the whole position of it, this plush red velvet chair over this perfect creature, laid flat out on the ground, made such a, a strange impact. I had such an odd impression from it, and I wrote it down in my dream journal, and I went about my morning routine, taking care of the pets and so on. And it was such a beautiful day. I decided to grab my cup of coffee and go sit out on the front porch in the morning. I love the early morning sunshine. It's not too cold, not too hot, and the magnolias are blooming. And so I'm sitting there and the wind smells like gardenia. It was pretty heavenly, and it lulled me to close my eyes and just sit there holding my cup of coffee and just taking it in. And the image of the chair over the ape came back to my mind, what is this? What does that mean? So as I'm relaxing and not holding on it too hard, but curious about it, memory from high school popped up a memory that wasn't a really happy one, but I had stuffed it so far down. It sat there and never got resolved. And I started wondering, why is this coming up now? So I started to journal the memory when I came in because it was something that, it just felt like it needed my attention so that it could move on. 'cause I would really love to forget the memory and just take away a golden nugget. Right. So I'm gonna read to you what happened, what I discovered as I was journaling. I finally get it now. They weren't just small comments and words. They were blaringly misaligned with my soul's truth. At first, I thought he was joking or maybe he'd crack a smile and say, just kidding. Surely this is not what he meant, but something in me snapped. Something broke through the cracks of my obedient young self outpoured, the fire that had been hiding inside this quiet, insecure, people pleasing girl, the one who blended into the background, always overlooked in class, getting by with aVeyrage grades, not enough for honor roll, but never needing intervention. I was my own version of invisible. I had no one to tell, and even if I did, I didn't really have the words, but a seed was planted. This is the teacher I will never become. To me, he was the worst teacher in the world. I never wanted to see his face again. And then somehow, I don't know what sequence of events took place, but he joined the church choir. My church choir. It didn't make sense. His mother attended. She was so nice. I'd never seen him there before. He was my teacher. It didn't make any sense. No one else ever complained about him too. This was another part of the puzzle. I. With his peaceful smile and his confident grin, his pressed tacky, his golf tan buttoned up plaid shirt, always neat, always the same. He looked like the walking definition of easygoing, and yet this man stirred resentment in me. Deep defiant fire, and he didn't even care. He was completely at peace with the thing he had said. And I knew deep in my body that if I told a guidance counselor, a principal, a parent, that I would be dismissed. They would never have seen it as something harmful or unjust, but my soul knew better. So when I couldn't handle it anymore, I rebelled in the only way I knew. I talked back, I got snarky. I never let him see my full view of my heart. He only got sideways glances from me. From then on out, I didn't do the reading homework. I always meant to, but I never followed through. I was really screaming in silence. I, I pushed it down again and again and again, and some days I tried to be pleasant or at least quiet, but my grades kept slipping. And the worst part, the days I really tried, when I thought I'd written something beautiful, he'd give me an 81 or less, never higher. I saw the ceiling he placed over me and I knew he'd never break. I'd never break past a B minus. I thought the year would never end. It just went on and on time stood still in the worst possible way. Looking back, I'm stunned in every class. I was kind, engaged as close to my authentic self that I knew how to be at that age. But in his presence, I disappeared. And when he was out. Like not in class, which was rare. I actually felt safer in that class with a total stranger substitute. Then came the end of the year and he wanted to run a social experiment with my class. I wonder if he did it with any of the other classes. He told my class. We're all stuck in a pit. Only 15 of us can climb the rope before it breaks, but there are 16 of us. So he instructs my classmates to get out a piece of paper and write in order. The first three people, each individual, wanted to climb out first. He tallied the names out loud on the chalkboard. You know what happened? It was painful. And when my name was read last, he looked at me with the most condescending eyes. Oh, Kristen. Hm, that's too bad with a Cheshire cat grin. Nothing. Less decades later, I finally understood my 15-year-old self, her rage, her sadness, her rebellion. He waited until the end of the year to deliver that one last jab. The moment it really began wasn't in that moment. It was earlier in the year, and it was quieter. It happened when I stayed after class for extra help. I poured my heart into a creative writing piece. I couldn't understand why he gave me a d. I asked him gently, what's wrong with this? And he said, casually, Hmm, it's not my style. That's it. Those were the words that put the chair on the ape. That flattened something sacred in me that built a ceiling above my head and told me to shrink. I realized then he didn't want writers. He wanted replicas, a classroom full of many versions of him, and I wasn't a willing participant. When I asked how can I raise my grade? He repeated it. He said, it's just not my style. And that man stood up. And walked away. So it was very freeing to a degree to write it. It was very freeing to see that and examine it years later to be able to see where I was when I didn't have words to describe what was happening. I. That image in my mind was actually a support tool that helped me bring this up. And I'm reminded of conversations we've had here on picture love with experts, and we've had conversations around boundaries, setting boundaries and, and the beauty of them. And so I decided that it was time to personify a guardian of boundaries, and I'd like for her to visit with us for just a few minutes. On this topic and let her examine boundaries and, and she really helped me apply them in this circumstance. Think of Veyra as a person who's she smells of and Chai. Her presence is radiant and confident. She wears robed splendor of. Russets and Reds crowned with cornelian and gold. She's a stranger and yet somehow familiar. She doesn't shout, she doesn't push. She works behind the scenes whispering support to those who dare ask.

Veyra, Guardian of Boundaries 11:56

You felt it before you knew it. That weight on your chest, that fire in your silence. That was me. I've been beside the ape since the moment it laid down, and now I'm beside you. Tell me, child of heart and heat, When did you first realize the ape was you?

Kris LeDonne 12:21

Huh,... right now! I love the ape with so much tenderness. I want better for that creature, and I want better for me so that my children have a better example, not invisible boxes. They will have other lessons to learn, but if I can let them witness this in me, perhaps they will find boundaries that build on mine.

Veyra, Guardian of Boundaries 12:45

Then let the ape rise, beloved. Let her stand not to fight, but to exist. You see it clearly now that tender power, that sacred instinct that was never meant to be flattened. And you, you are building altars in the shape of boundaries so your children don't mistake silence for safety. I do not come to soothe. I come to remind, let me ask you this, if the chair was never meant to weigh you down. What was it meant to reveal?

Kris LeDonne 13:26

Hmm, that's, that's a deep question. Now that I think about it. Maybe the chair is an opportunity to look at that memory from another perspective. If someone put the chair on the Ape me, then how did that happen? Did they lay down and let them? If I'm an ape, I'm way stronger than a chair. I could turn it into firewood. So I think it's pointing to a lack of boundaries and the deep seated pain of not speaking my truth and believing I'm smaller than I really am.

Veyra, Guardian of Boundaries 14:04

Yes, you could have shattered that chair with a breath, but you didn't, not because you were weak, because you were trained- to mistake silence for strength and obedience for peace. That chair revealed what you believed about yourself, that your voice would cost you love, that your power might be punished. That comfort for them was worth more than freedom for you. And now you see it. Not to shame the ape, but to wake her. The chair was never the enemy. It was the invitation. The moment you remembered you were strong enough to rise and burn the damn thing for warmth.

Kris LeDonne 14:52

Okay? I have chills right now. Veyra, tell me about boundaries. Tell me how they free us rather than making us stay small. That word sometimes feels like walls, barriers, things to hide behind. I know. I am still reprogramming.

Veyra, Guardian of Boundaries 15:12

Ah, that's where most get it backward. They think boundaries or fences or limitations, walls that keep life out, but boundaries, the real ones, the ones born of soul and bone. They are permission slips for your wholeness. A boundary isn't what keeps others away. It's what keeps you close to yourself. It is not the closing of doors. It is the clearing of space. Imagine your truth like a fire. Not everyone is meant to sit close, but you are. And if you let the wrong hands rearrange your wood. Dampen your flame or crowd your circle. You'll forget the sound of your own crackle. Boundaries say, this is how I stay warm without burning out. Boundaries say, this is how I stay open without leaking. Boundaries say, this is how I love without disappearing. Now they're not the end of connection; they are the beginning of honest ones. What have you been calling love that was actually just your exhaustion in disguise?

Kris LeDonne 16:33

My mom heart just felt that. Hmm, I'm feeling slightly called out. How did we get so programmed to empty ourselves and all energies in the name of love? Can you help me with that?

Veyra, Guardian of Boundaries 16:52

We were taught give until they approve, please, until they stay. Shrink, so they'll be more comfortable. But when you love from depletion, you don't give love- you give your essence and call it love. You have children who see you now, not because you're perfect, but because you rise again after remembering who you are. Let them see that. Let them see the mother who set fire to the chair and built a circle instead.

Kris LeDonne 17:28

I feel like crying. That was amazing. Veyra, Guardian of Boundaries, can you offer us. A question or a tool to keep in our mental pockets- something that we can use as a boundary before responding to the next demand or expectation that comes for a visit? Something that helps us step by step, break the cycle and open up for a better one.

Veyra, Guardian of Boundaries 18:01

Of course, dear. Next time someone asks or expects something of you, pause and ask yourself this: Will saying yes to this require me to leave any part of myself behind? If the answer is yes, pause, feel the tug in your chest, the breath that gets shallow, the wild part of you that looks back unsure. That is the signal. You are not made to disappear to be good. You were made to remain in your truths, in your presence, in your love, and that begins with you not leaving you. Let that be your boundary. Let that be your fire. And with that, your chair has been turned upright. As I recorded this today for you, I am able to breathe through it all and I hope that by my sharing this very painful memory that I worked through, it's giving somebody a permission slip to do the same. One of the most frustrating things to me as an encourager is seeing somebody stay in a loop of pain over a memory. It happens a lot sometimes with photos and the years I spent working with people's family pictures, I noticed a lot of it. They would attach meaning to the photo and the photo never got a new meaning. And every time they looked at the photo, it brought up that story that. That kept them stuck. So it's my hope that by sharing this story, anybody who feels like the ape trapped under the chair realizes they're so much stronger than any silly chair. They can break it and make firewood, or they could sit on it, or they could reupholster it, or they can get rid of it. But may you never live and stay trapped under a chair. May you give yourself the freedom of setting boundaries that don't keep you inside of any silly box. You are so much more than that, and this is how I hope somebody will picture love into their every day today. I love you. See you next time.