I don't know why I've felt exceptionally vulnerable over the last few weeks. It's like the past has made itself a resident again lately. I have become a pro at shutting it off, but I just can't for the life of me do that right now. There is a part of me that feels incredibly guilty, like, haven't I moved past this already? I'm not a fan of feeling like I'm stuck. I am working really hard and trying to do everything in my daily life that is necessary, but the overwhelm in my everyday life is very present. Finding that letter from my mother, to being asked if I am ok because of my tears, has taken a toll. Those things seem so insignificant, but somewhere in my head, they are not. Things that I have worked so hard to overcome, and yet there is another layer of 'Oh, crap, am I doing okay?' These little setbacks have become bigger than I imagined. In this, I am trying to accept that there will always be things that come up that bother me, that take me back for a few days. Just because that happens doesn't mean I'm going backwards or not doing well; it simply means I'm still affected.
Sleeping has been extremely difficult, with so many nightmares. I remember some of them, and yet others I don't know, but the feeling of being hurt is still there, and it feels extremely weighty in the morning. I wake up around 2 or 3 each night and barely get back to sleep before the alarm goes off for school. Sometimes it's terror, other times it's dread; either way, they are disturbing and awful. Sometimes it's actually me who is being hurt; other times it's a threat that I can't escape from. It's running a marathon with no finish line; you're told to just keep running, and maybe with some kind of luck, you will make it. I wouldn't know what to do with a full 8 hours of restful sleep. I have not known that for my entire 50 years of life. I guess it's something that I should get used to by now.
Then there are the flashbacks. Some of them stop me in my tracks and take my breath away. They are so real and everything that I would like to forget. Sometimes I freeze, I know what's happening to me, and I feel far away. Other times, it is me, and those are the ones where I do anything to distract myself from remembering. I will scroll through my phone or Netflix for hours, looking for something to make the things I remember less painful, hoping that the scrolling will make me forget. There are tears, and I can't believe the things I have lived through. I was just a girl, a little girl who carried so much. Music seems to be the thing that is bringing up so much. But I love music, and it makes me angry that even something I love is so affected by what was done to me. I hear songs and know I was abused during them. The music was my happy place when things were unimaginable. Living knowing that is really hard sometimes. My skin feels more sensitive than ever, and the slightest touch makes me cower.
It is sometimes extremely hard being in the field that I am in. I get frustrated that I still have to deal with these things, like someone who is becoming a counselor should make these things easier for me. I have done the hard work and will forever be healing, and sometimes that is more frustrating than anything else. I am slowly coming to the realization that no matter how far I come in life and what I accomplish, my past will always be my past. There are going to be times when it rears its ugly head, and I will just breathe, put it to the side, and do what I was meant to do, dealing with my own heart later. I'm happy that I'm good at that, but sometimes I wish I didn't have to. It's hard sometimes, feeling like a fake because I still have work to do. We all have work, and perhaps I should be gentler on myself, but the areas I need to work on are those that bring me the most passion. What is that saying that your passion comes from your deepest wounds? I believe that with my whole heart. That doesn't make the personal side of it any easier. Healing while my heart is breaking.The things that have happened to me are here to stay. I can not change them, make them into anything different. I can say the nicer words make them sound prettier, but they are what they are. They were horrific, and they changed me forever. Maybe that is why they seem so overwhelming the last few weeks. With finding that letter my mother wrote and much of that guilt fading away about my reaction to her death, maybe that gives me space to truly work on healing Spunky. There was always something holding her back, scared of breathing, terrified of being seen, being believed. Afraid to use her voice to express herself. I am not sure if she has ever been able to speak, not truly. Maybe now this is her time. For me, there seems to be this anger that I have never had before. That I was surrounded by people who should have stepped up and didn't. Everyone was out to save their own ass, over protecting me. Everyone was worried about their own needs, and what I needed was of little importance to them. Realizing that my mother played a role, played just as significant a role as my father in my abuse. Looking the other way, ignoring, pretending all things that added to my sadness and pain. I have fought for the tears that I can cry today. Someone questioning them brings a feeling of weakness, and my truth is that it is tough. I hate living with the trauma that I have lived, but I am no longer willing to let it control me and the person that I have become. I will use those things and help others. I will forever and always continue to fight so that other women don't have to sit at their computer spilling their soul with all the words she was never allowed to speak. I will keep fighting with every breath that I have to find that happy that I was never allowed to have.
I heart your heart
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