Lately, when I think about My Kitchen Table something doesn’t sit right.  There seems to be something different.  Something I can’t put my finger on – but clearly feel.  The figures and the setting all look the same.  But something is definitely peculiar.

Then the other day all of a sudden I saw it.  There is actually a new Karen at the table.

While I know that there are a few original figures I haven’t really explored yet –  sitting in the shadows, behind the curtain, waiting for recognition – this new Karen has surfaced quietly but so swiftly that I am eager to share her.  At first, when I realized that there was someone new at the Table, I panicked and thought, “WTF?  ANOTHER one?!?  How many are there for God’s sake? ”     The idea that new characters might just keep popping up caused a bit of anxiety, to say the least.  I mean really.  How much self-awareness does one person really need??
Finally, I came down from my angst over the thought of having to understand yet another part of myself and began to see how and why my Kitchen Table has recently grown.

This post introduces the newest Karen, Karen7.  Not to worry I’ll get back to the others.  This is just a brief intermission.  Well, as I re-read this, it’s not really so brief . . . .  Nonetheless, here she is.

Today, I was involved in a conversation with a friend when another friend who was nearby popped up said to me, “Why are you wearing all that armor”.  It was not said in so many words but was clearly implicated in this person’s reaction to something I said.  As I stared at her wondering what the Hell she was talking about, she looked at me with one of those “All Knowing” looks.  A way that said, “Yes.  I see you.  I see what you are doing and I get it.  But you don’t need that shit anymore.”

In that moment I stalled.  I was a bit taken aback by this person’s perceptiveness because really, I knew just what she meant.  Nonetheless, after I recovered I went about my business, not really thinking too much about it. But the look in her eyes and those words kept coming back to the forefront of my mind and stayed with me.

Then just when I was moving nicely along with my day, I heard this (or something like it), “When you are exhausted, sweaty and have expended all your energy, drop what you no longer need.  Let it fall to the ground and shatter.  Empty yourself of the shit that no longer serves you. It’s easier to do when you are breathless. So, when you find yourself drained, leave it on the floor with your sweat and maybe some tears, and return with a new version of yourself.”

Since apparently, I wasn’t going to be able to avoid it, the message I got came in loud and clear and I immediately saw my Kitchen Table, vividly but with a twist.  What I now saw was myself standing guard and covered in chain mail and armor.  The kind of armor normally worn by a knight when preparing for battle.  The funny thing is that all the other figures were going about their business as normal.  Nothing new to see here folks.  I wondered where she’d been hiding.  They obviously did not.

As I looked her over, I started to actually feel the weight of the armor.  Clanging pieces of metal so heavy I had to drag my feet.  My head lowered from the weight of my helmet.  Aside from the freakishness of this imagery, all I could think was “Wow, is all this really necessary?”.  And then I heard the words again, “You don’t need that anymore”.  My head snapped up and my eyes shot around – because of course, no one was really there to have actually spoken those words aloud.  Despite the silence and my being on the edge of hysteria, I began to see my armor – my knight’s protection – fall to the ground.  Or at least most of it.    

In that moment, I understood that losing the armor left me open to risk, exposure, and vulnerability.  I know that this has always been patently unacceptable to me – to be exposed and vulnerable that is.  Hence, the armor.  But dropping the armor let me glimpse the freedom of moving along without all that protection and the joy that might result from being a little bit vulnerable.  Risky yes but maybe worth losing all that metal.

Interestingly, as I saw it fall, I noticed that I had retained a bit.  My left arm was still covered in armor.   It was so strange for me to see most of my metal on the floor while continuing to feel my arm weighed down by the armor.  I guess I am not quite ready to let go of all of my shields.  Maybe I can shed the rest someday too.

As I thought about all this I asked myself why I have all this protection in the first place and realized quickly that the answer was pretty simple.

Fear, sadness, anxiety, jealousy, self-loathing  . . . .  and the list goes on.  These things are fairly common to most women I know, some men certainly, but mostly women.  In my opinion, this is because of our inclination to lead with our heart and, of course, the overwhelming importance of body image instilled in us by the world and breeding the resulting disdain we have for our own bodies.  I am certain now that I shield myself from feeling these things by wearing my armor – loud and proud.  After all, that armor is pretty damn strong.  So strong that it can push these unpleasant emotions – and the people that come with those emotions – away.  It is much easier to put up a shield, cover yourself with metal, and stomp forward than to let difficult emotion shower down on you.

Although not without a bit of sweat and tears, in shedding my armor, or most of it, I think I hit a “reset” and made room for a new self.  Someone stronger.  Someone more accepting, more open, and more peaceful.  This is someone I have feared but maybe at the same time have been waiting for.  So, I dropped (most of) the Karen that held onto the fear and anger and just let her go.  What I found beneath was a new Karen who was more gentle, more peaceful, more loving.  Even to myself.  And oddly, she is more girly –  NOT a word ever associated with me.  I even see her wearing pink frilly skirts – accessorized with the remaining armor I’m not quite ready to shed.  So unlike all the other Karen’s who are so very boylike in their manner and look.  It’s almost as if a more feminine Karen has come to the surface.  As I consider that she’s probably been under all that armor all along, I think about what or who else might have shown up to help release the armor and let her rise up – pink ruffles and all.  And for this, I am grateful.  Plus it doesn’t hurt to drop a few hundred lbs . . . .

All this has led me to see how big my Table might really be.  It is expanding as I change and grow, experiencing people, my environment, love, success, failure . . . .  life.  And hovering around all of that are those who show up at just the right time to help unearth who I really am.

So, let’s hear it for Karen7.  I’m really glad she showed up and I hope anyone who has suffered the wrath of the original Karen7, fully armed and dangerous, is too.