I forget sometimes that writing is very therapeutic for me. I have loads of files on my tablet containing drafted letters, random feelings, ideas, lists, goals, plans.... So I need to remember I have a blog and share some of it here. A little space dedicated to the very few who dig deep enough to find it, but mostly just a space I can get things out of my head to release it to the light of day. Why does that help? I don't know. But it does. Sometimes just seeing something in print gives it validity, solidifies it's existence even if its just thoughts or feelings. I think that's important for a girl like me. One that has felt like she's always had feelings that have been inconvenient, she's too emotional....had "wrong" feelings. Stuff it down Wendy! There are people in the world that have it much worse than you! The emotional equivalent to being told there are starving children in Africa, so clean your plate and quit whining. Well, to that I call bullshit. Sorry, but it has to change for my sanity. No more shame. It's been here too long.
The majority of people I know have no clue how much I have, and continue to battle with depression, anxiety and PTSD. And those that do know, really can't know to what degree, because I don't tell them. Not even my husband. Not that I don't trust him with that, but because it's all a lot to bear. He has a wonderful and caring soul, and I know how empathy can sometimes be a blessing and a curse....a blessing because it helps you to be understanding, a curse because you take some of the pain yourself. This is why I've paid someone to listen to my dark ramblings, real fears and personal demons. I've been at it (therapy) for more than 2 years now, and I'm not done. I DO feel better and more positive, although I discovered a very painful trigger to the PTSD recently. A trigger I didn't think could happen. It turns out I could and have forgiven the people who caused my initial pain, but I've discovered I still have work to do. And that makes me vulnerable to certain personalities...I lost one of my only close friends because of this. Cue the shame, guilt, feelings of responsibility for other people's emotions and lives.....double UGH. At my core I believe every single person on this earth deserves compassion and love. I truly do. But I can't always be "hands on" with that feeling. I just can't. I lose a huge piece of myself in the process. This is the curse I talked about earlier. I take on pain in the process of caring about them.
Some people believe in a God, the goddess, the "force", the universe, science, nothing....whatever grand designer of order or chaos in this existence you choose. Personally I've come to trust the Light, and it is pretty much God or Love. These terms are all synonymous for me. In my last therapy session, we did another imagery exercise. In this exercise I was asked to imagine myself now, me at the age of trauma (which is about 8 or 9) and God, all having a conversation together. It all sounds a little like a split personality exercise from hell, right? Well, it's not. I find myself gaining a lot of insight from these exercises. Anyway, I sat quietly in this visualization, and asked the Light to help me with this situation with the triggered PTSD I'd come to find myself in. Immediately I imagined a puzzle before me. It was explained to me that this is my puzzle. The outer edge was done, as were a few other parts of the puzzle complete, but there were still a lot of pieces left to join together. The next image was of a different puzzle that had been partially put together, but the only available pieces left for me to see were perfect circles. No matter how I try, they will never come together for me. I drive myself crazy with, and am consumed by trying to figure out just the right words or things to say to "help". It's a futile process. It doesn't work that way. But my brain has to be reminded from time to time of that, because it can feel maddening and I can forget or be convinced it's different this time. Even if I have the perfect words, actions..... Ultimately, I have no control over anything in another person's life. They do. I am not supposed to put anyone else's puzzle together, even though that's actually what I was trying to do recently even though consciously I didn't catch that. Wow. In essence, trying to "fix" the cause of my trauma so long ago. Change the outcome. But it's impossible to do that. The ONLY person who can put your puzzle together is YOU. I know this for myself, but why didn't I see what was happening? See my vulnerability to this played on right before my eyes? I guess the dark finds ways to crawl and writhe it's way back in. In insidious, cancer-like, goading and mocking ways causing emotional warfare. GTFO dark. I will no longer welcome you into my life. I'm rebuking that shit. I gotta stay positive in all things. It's literally a fight for my life.