I glued my ass to my meditation mat, closed my eyes, took the deepest of breaths, and began what would become the most profound meditation session of my life.

I journeyed deeper and deeper until I was surrounded by childhood memories, passed the lies I’d told myself that my childhood had been entirely happy. I waved at gargoyles warning me away from investigating painful memories. I gave an awkward hug to a demon telling me I would definitely go insane if I kept on this self-inquiry train.

Then, I’m looking at a six years old version of myself, her sensible navy school shoes pounding across the playground as fast as her skinny legs can carry her. Behind her are about five girls shrieking “Cry baby, cry baby! You’ve got no mates!”  

I watched little Jenny bolt herself in the familiar cold, blue toilet cubicle, where she spent so much of her time at school. She’s silently sobbing, terrified and all alone. The brutal words of the bullies echoing in her head: “No one likes you. We hate you.”

And so, I arrived at the root of why I hated myself.

I listened to the bullies constant taunts for six long years each recess, lunchtime and in the primary school classroom until their words became a record stuck on repeat playing over and over in my mind. I internalised their hateful accusations. Their jeers lodged permanently in my young brain, forming a foundation of my belief system and inner-voice.

I had found the moment when I started to believe:

“No one’s ever going to love me.”

“There’s something fundamentally wrong with me.”

“Everyone hates me so I have to pretend to be someone else.”

This is pretty heavy sh!t for a kid to have hard-wired into their subconscious.

After transferring to a different high school, I was terrified of my brokenness being discovered by new children. I started wearing a smiley mask and saying whatever was necessary so others would like me. I lived in constant terror the bullying would start again.

As I grew older, I forgot I was wearing a mask and kept it on at all times. It became confusing and stressful as I wore different masks for different people. I never felt like I could just be myself. I became more identified with the different masks I wore and disconnected from my authentic self.

With these epiphanies pouring through me, I sat perfectly still on my mat. Armed with the experience of releasing the shoulder pain, I was convinced I could transmute this self-hatred.

Without getting dragged into negative emotions or reactions, I witnessed the streams of memories connected to the bullying flashing in technicolour through my mind. I watched them from a genuine place of peaceful acceptance and compassion. I felt forgiveness for the bullies who were just little kids who didn’t know any better.

Then the obvious hit me and changed everything!

What the bullies had been telling me simply wasn’t true.

New truths and loving beliefs started flooding through my mind. Looking in the eyes of that adorable, younger version of me with her passion for climbing trees, hunting faeries among sweet-pea flowers and dancing to Abba on her 80s walkman, I realised I’d always been lovable! There was actually nothing wrong with me! It was okay for me to be myself!

I felt genuine love for myself for the first time in my life. And not just for that younger version of me: the love rushed through time, flooding through my awkward teenage self all the way up to my 29 year old self sitting on that meditation mat.

I looked down at my heart and saw her gentle pulse through my skin. “After all I’ve put you through, thank you for always beating for me.” I sob loving tears of gratitude to my heart.

I’m surprised to hear my heart for the first time, “Who else would I beat for?”