Take Me Home

Giving away a pile of imperfect pottery led to an unexpected lesson in worth, healing, and coming home to yourself

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Oh, life and its teachable moments! I know we’re ‘supposed’ to embrace them and see them as gifts...and they are...but at first, it just feels like discomfort tied in a shiny bow.

The hindsight piece comes later and then of course, reveals its gift. Like a rainbow at the end of a storm, the skies clear and the understanding appears, threading it all together to make sense. Message received.

That doesn’t make the process necessarily enjoyable, but let’s just say it’s so worth the ride because peeling back another layer, learning more about yourself, finally releasing old pain you’ve been lugging around for years is a massive exhale, a breath of fresh air — and a homecoming.

Coming home to self.

Now, I’m playful by nature so I love to invoke curiosity and quietly witness life that is unfolding around me. I’ve shared how I recently leaned into a newly found obsession with pottery. Initially I thought it was about accessing my creativity, allowing myself to get lost for hours in the studio and spend precious time with my daughter True.

And while all of that is true...something else emerged...back to my teachable lessons. Sigh.

As you can imagine, after spending months in the studio I was excitedly creating an abundance of items. And they were stacking up quickly. One day, I simply stood before an entire table filled with pieces, the fruits of my creative labor — staring at them.

For context, keep in mind that I live in a tiny cottage, with two naughty cats no less, so there is only so much I could bring home. Suddenly, it dawned on me that, like my friend who donates piles of books that we give away to customers at the cafe, I could do the same.

I could create a pile with a sign, “Take Me Home.”

Initially, it made my heart smile. Yes, that will feel wonderful. I started daydreaming about all my little clay babies finding their forever homes. Then the skeptic in me elbowed her way into my reverie and reared her ugly face, “What if no one wants to take them home?”

I began judging myself. Why do we do that? Wasn’t this supposed to be about fun? Wasn’t that supposed to be a gesture of kindness? My inner critic is such a party pooper!

Sure, the pottery was full of imperfections, maybe a little lopsided like the rest of us.

My doubt got louder, “Just think how embarrassing it’s going to be when no one takes them...the shame, the rejection...maybe you should leave them where they are piled up in a mass of oblivion.”

I’ll be honest. It startled me a bit...incoming teachable moment. I could smell it, taste it, feel it — and there was no stopping it because it was time.

Time to bless and release this part of myself.

There was so much more beneath the rejection of no one liking my creations. Much deeper (isn’t that always the case).

Flashes of my childhood rose up and hit me like a wave. The panic was visceral, so familiar and so real. This fear spoke to me, “What a stupid idea! Why would you put yourself through this again.”

But I’m not that little girl anymore.

I felt that pain of my early years because it was still there. I had shoved it aside, hidden it, pretended it didn’t exist, but it was just there waiting. And waiting it did...for decades...looking for a way out at any cost.

Part of me wanted to just agree and put everything in a box out of sight out of mind. And the other part of me said, Hell No! You are a 56-year-old woman allowing a five or ten or fourteen-year-old version of yourself to call the shots here.

Because that is what we do. That is the voice of the unhealed wound.

Just recognizing this initiates the healing.

How?

I could make a new choice that would produce a new outcome. Let’s just be radical a moment...

What if it didn’t matter if anyone liked my pottery or me or took any of it home? Why was I assigning a meaning to it that didn’t have to exist? It’s actually that simple.

Full disclosure, those bold words sounded good, but putting them in action made my nervous system shiver. I was a shy kid, and my shyness was often misread, sometimes even being mistaken as a ‘bitch’. I was the last chosen for anything in school, easily pushed aside, forgotten and made to feel invisible.

I made standing in the corner my norm...with a big nervous smile pasted on my face. I told myself I didn’t need to take up a lot of space.

That shapes a young person, and it pushed me further into shyness well into my adulthood, which I know seems contradictory to how I move through my café greeting customers, but it’s true. I hid in corners. Bullying myself.

But no more. My pottery has freed me.

No longer slinking into the shadows of my life. I am safe to share me and my creations.

Clearly there are many life steps I’ve taken to here that have put me on a more stable, solid and grounded foundation. But it’s so interesting what pops up for each of us on this life journey, especially when we are ready to move in a new way.

I was stunned by how anxious and insecure I was about exposing my pieces. I know it seems silly, but I’m just keeping it real here in case there is something similar that comes up for you.

Allow it. If it’s here, you’re ready.  

Look, everyone wants to be wanted, loved, included, seen. But not everyone can do that for you, and that is OK. I need to be OK with who I am, who I am trying to be. I’m also doing this for little me who didn’t have that chance. We are both safe now.

And btw, the very first day I debuted my pieces, 17 of them were scooped up and taken home, each with my name scripted on the bottom. Don’t laugh, but I tested myself again the next day by bringing more in. Maybe it was just luck the day before.

No luck needed. No coincidence. By the end of day, 6 more pieces marched out the door! It was OK to feel proud, to celebrate. I had worked hard to get here.

It’s curious that I wrote a sign stating, ‘Take Me Home’ instead of ‘FREE stuff’. Just knowing that I made something of value that another could enjoy healed a part of me that needed to be healed...and that took me home to ME...no longer standing in the corner and now reclaiming my worth.   

A worth that was mine to declare.

Do you have anything to declare to self? My advice...go for it! There is so much freedom on the other side.

—Lea Haas, Owner, The Garden Cafe Woodstock