Calloused Auras.
Or callused auras? Some gratitude for adaptations my energy had to make.
I think the part I miss most about teaching is being around uncalloused auras. When I was working as an educator, being around the children was the best part of the job. They were undiluted energy, resilient and adaptable to the world pressing in on them. They reminded me what authenticity was on a daily basis. Be it a grumpy or joyful mood, they were real. How precious it is to be real.
It made me think of how our own energy leaves that space, and what causes it to become hardened, and muted. The traumas, the need to fit in and the constant pressure of those around us inundating with an endless need to want, to wish, to be something other than what we are - it consumes us and leaves us - calloused. From the get go, when we are totally fine in our own energies, the institutions in all shapes and forms tell us how it's not enough. There is always “something” to work for, strive for and achieve. Some “other” which is the end of this supposed journey. A promise of “happy” once we get there and an insinuation that we weren't ever there in the first place.
And so, little calluses form. Reactions to having a sensitive energy without any barrier of my own to protect it with. The only choice to harden a part of my aura, my sensitivity, in order to plough through. A dulling of senses, a numbness, a feeling of disconnect. An avoidance.
The callused auras we have, the ones which live on the outskirts of our energy now, they can feel tough. They are our protection, our necessary roughness so as to survive. They have hardened in places we needed them to. And like a callus, when they brush up on something soft, something authentic… they can catch a bit. Remind us we had to hurt, to harden, and we can’t be soft anymore. Remind us we lost a place where there was no barrier between joy and our very essence.
But I love my aura calluses. They kept me safe. I am thankful for them. And I am thankful for the times they catch, the times they remind me to dig a little deeper, and remember when a feeling wasn’t frightening, when an experience was just a moment in time. When I was safe, when I didn’t need a hardening of my aura.
Where are your aura calluses?
The symbolism that often comes to me to reflect parts of my journey is watching a flower start to bloom; petals open - and then BAM! - a hand comes down and makes a fist around the petals, closing them back up, causing some rips and tears along the way. What immediately came to mind for me as to where my aura calluses are: how my natural inclination seems to be speaking freely by asking questions and sharing open and honestly. A callus seems to have been formed to curb that expression, to say "no no", you cannot share so freely with everyone. Why? Because, especially as an unaware empath, that allowed others' energies to crawl up into mine and then I felt being "me" was wrong and causing difficulty for others. So I became more quiet. More cautious. More "don't rock the boat". I am still working to heal and shed these energies that were never mine or to transmute them if they are too ingrained to be shed. The calluses now say "don't let just anybody in - save those parts of yourself for the ones who care to understand, and who appreciate the beauty of what they see."
I’ve been thinking about this in terms of social contracts. I’m drawing a lot of connections — calloused auras feel allistic/neurotupical — the learned skills needed to “fit in” to society.
The fluffy and uncalloused energy seems neurodivergent in its directness and authenticity. That does not mean unintelligent or lacking — just not coded.
I’m back again to the social contracts. How does this connect with people pleasing? Unlearning that type of fawn response is so hard- especially for women. When we work to get back to the unfiltered, direct, authentic communication — is it like giving our callouses a much needed exfoliation?