The Little Red Purse

Childhood is a time of growing and learning as well as discovering who we are and where we fit in this big world. Actually, we first have to understand where we fit in our little world of family and community and a large part of that occurs when we attend school. 

There are many lessons to be learned at school, in various subjects, and the seldom discussed lessons are the painful ones that we learn on our own.  Sadly, it all happens inside our own little mind and body and we can create unhealthy and limiting beliefs and decisions about ourselves that affect us long after we leave school. If only I had known then about fact checking prior to drawing a conclusion. 

I was an extremely shy little girl and preferred to not be seen or to call any attention to myself. When I was in grade three I was beginning to feel a little bit brave and felt that I could be seen and stand out just a tiny little bit. My little wings were just beginning to sprout, so I could eventually learn to fly. 

I had received a beautiful red clutch purse from my Grandma Beach for Christmas that year. It had a cool wrist strap and it was really a “big girl” purse and the best part was that my sister received one the same, only hers was yellow. That made it even better to have a purse the same as my big sister. I felt so grown up and sooo special. 

I treasured that purse so much and quickly put items in it that would make it all mine. I honestly don’t know what I put in the purse, maybe some coins in the zipper part and some papers or pictures in the folded area. All I know is that I felt more important and confident just holding it. 

I decided it would be a great idea to take my purse to school and my Mom gave me permission to do that. Of course I didn’t make a big show about the purse because I would never call that kind of attention to myself. I remember discreetly tucking it in my desk and began my school day. 

When our mid-morning bathroom break arrived, I decided that I would take my purse to the bathroom, as all ladies do, and again I discreetly took it out of my desk and tucked it under my arm. 

We lined up and filed out of the classroom to the bathroom. My teacher, Mrs Pratt, was standing guard at the door, as she always did.  She was an older woman and was very scary and ran her class with an iron fist. She always had a scowl on her face, her lips pressed tightly together and never smiled. So I timidly walked towards the door to leave the room. 

As I walked past her she grabbed the purse out from under my arm and growled, “you don’t need to take that to the bathroom”, and she threw it across the room. 

I was mortified for so many reasons and I went to the bathroom and wanted to cry and lock myself in the stall and never come out. 

Of course I had to compose myself and shove all that emotion deep down into my body to stay suppressed and stored there for many many years. 

I did get my purse back at some point during the day, when she walked to my desk and handed it back to me, as if nothing had happened.  

Sadly my beautiful purse was now tainted in some way.  It had lost its lustre and I had lost my short lived confidence and my attempt to take a teenie tiny step towards being brave had backfired. I felt embarrassed that I had tried to “show off” and act big. I remember as kids, my siblings and I would say to each other, “you think you’re sooo big” as an insult, and in my head I was likely saying that to myself. 

Of course I recalled this memory occasionally over the years and usually talked about it with anger and calling Mrs Pratt some choice names.It just became an ancient memory and I had no idea the extent of the effect it had on me.  

When I started doing The Journey method,  we do what is called a process to connect with our body’s wisdom for emotional healing. As a session/process begins our mind doesn’t know what memory will show up for healing, you simply listen to where you are guided in your mind’s eye. 

During one such process the memory of the purse incident showed up. I was guided back to that painful moment when my treasured purse was forcefully ripped out from under my arm and thrown across the room. Only this time, as an adult,  I was aware of all the emotions that had flooded my little nine year old body. The humiliation, shame, embarrassment, fear, shock and anger that all got stored in my body.  

Also, in the process, when I slowed it all down as I went back to the consciousness of that time (only this time with my adult mind) I could hear and understand what had happened in the younger me in the seconds and minutes that followed that moment. I had told myself that if I hadn’t been showing off, this never would have happened. I judged myself so harshly and as a result many unhealthy beliefs were created within me.  Some of these beliefs were: it’s not safe to stand out and be seen, I’m stupid and foolish and it’s better to stay invisible and small so no one will ever see the real terrible me. Unfortunately my sprouting wings recoiled and laid dormant in their safe cocoon. 

During the process I was able to let the little nine year old me speak up and say to Mrs Pratt how upset I was and how much I hated her for what she did to me and how I felt as a result of her actions. It was so important to say the words that could never have been said at that time because I didn’t have the understanding, I didn’t have the courage to speak those words and mostly because speaking to Mrs Pratt in that way would most likely have ended in getting the strap from that burly and enraged woman. 

The next part of the process is having Mrs Pratt reply to me, not from ego but from her soul. It also gave me the opportunity to, in consciousness, step inside Mrs Pratt to understand what she was feeling and thinking at that time. 

What I realized was that Mrs Pratt wasn’t a happy woman inside and I also became aware that she was behaving from her own beliefs that children must be controlled and taught with that iron fist to make them rule abiding and respectful little people. She was teaching with the same old fashioned values that she had been taught with. She was doing the best she could with the resources and beliefs that she had and held with pride. 

With this awareness I was able to completely forgive Mrs Pratt. This is not condoning or accepting her behaviour, it’s understanding it mostly because I knew that I no longer wanted to carry that hatred in my body.  I wanted to forgive the soul of the long since deceased Mrs Pratt and I wanted to forgive the sweet younger me for not having the resources to heal myself of the pain at that time. 

The old unhealthy beliefs needed to be swept clean and new empowering beliefs replaced. I don’t recall exactly what new beliefs I installed and I am sure they were about it now being safe to be seen and be me, and that I’m a decent, kind, caring, intelligent person that can proudly show her face to the world. 

That day of healing took place over twelve years ago and it was just one of many processes that I experienced during my years of learning this method of emotional healing.  The beautiful end result of all of this clearing is that I have healed my physical body of rheumatoid arthritis and I have overcome the fear of being seen. My wings have emerged and I am free to soar and be me. 

The true test of this work is being reminded of old pain and checking how it feels now. So last year I was searching for  some pictures to share on Facebook of my sister for her Birthday. I made a collage and it wasn’t until I reviewed the end result that I realized that one of the pictures was taken on a Christmas morning many years ago. I looked more closely and there I was beside my sister, proudly holding that red purse.  Instead of any anger or shame there was just love and gratitude, for my sister, for our matchy matchy purses and for all that I have experienced in my life so far.  

I truly love happy endings.