Have you ever noticed how we all seem to act according to the rule book in our heads? We acquire a set of ideas about how we are supposed to be, what we are supposed to say, how we are supposed to feel. Then, like a theater piece, we act out our lines, memorized through years of personal experience.

That’s when the trouble sets in.

As we live out our customized scripts, we end up having internal dialogues with ourselves when we think we are actually talking to the other person.

What we’re mostly doing is talking to ourselves or — at most — the first person with whom we had a similiar experience.

Let’s look at a workplace example.

Your boss comes into the office, grumpy as hell, and scowls at you. His face reminds you of your first grade teacher, the one that scared you so badly you actually peed in your pants. Now, back at the office, you have that same feeling and you spend the rest of the day recovering from the embarassment you first experienced at the age of six. Your boss’s behavior has nothing to do with you, but it triggered a memory that burns in your mind to this day.

Many of us operate from that child-like space inside. We forget that we are now adults who get to choose things from a broader view of the world. We aren’t at the mercy of crazy adults anymore.

But how many of us actually liberate ourselves from the thinking that was formed when we were?

There are no “supposed to’s”. Sure, we have traffic rules and rules of etiquette at dinner parties. Most of it is based on honoring the higher good. Somewhere along the line, however, we tend to bastardize those rules. Once meant to keep us safe, they morph into a haunting series of behavioral adaptations that leave us twisted, corked up and completely divorced from ourselves.

Weird, isn’t it? The very thing that is meant to make us happy and well-adjusted leads us down a path of self-inflicted sorrow.

We can reclaim our power by recognizing when our past conditioning kicks in. It is as much a part of us as our heartbeat is. It is what makes us tick.

Believe me when I say: You are beautiful just as you are — peed pants and all.