I told myself I can’t go to sleep unless I blog, and I know exactly what I need to share with you all, but it’s still hard.
In the past, I would send myself deeper and deeper into a shame spiral over my inability to write. I spent a really long time hating myself for what I now know were… are coping strategies.
I’m not “a procrastinator.” I put off things that make me feel emotions I don’t want to feel.
I”m not “lazy.” I process emotions in a non-linear way, and processing trauma is exhausting, so it requires rest.
Listen, I don’t know how long or informative this blog post is going to be. It’s 11:50 pm, and my contacts are getting blurry. But I told myself I couldn’t go to sleep until I blog. Because I know I’m finally in a space where I can. Because I know the catharsis of saying to myself “SEE? You did it. It’s done,” will be a beautiful release.
If you’re thinking this is going to be some kind of juicy confession, I’m sorry to disappoint.
The only thing I have to share with you all, for now, is that a year ago I literally HATED myself. I hated every single ounce of myself. And now I don’t. And I think I know why.
When I was a young mom, in the abyss of a postpartum mental crisis, I would imagine – over and over- my car flying off the side of an overpass, and it horrified me. Last year, I imagined that over and over, and it felt like relief. An escape from myself and all the ways I hated me.
And what I want you to know is that there is a REASON behind every single thing you do and every way you react or don’t react. There is a REASON. You’re NOT lazy or flaky or angry or despondent just because that’s who you are as a person. Every single thing about yourself that makes you feel ashamed or trapped is probably just something you’re doing to stay alive. Or something you learned to do to stay alive at another time in your life.
So over the last year I began to peel back the layers of my shame and self loathing. And I’ve excavated a woman who is still processing rape & sexual assault trauma, whose anxiety responds to overstimulation – like the noise of 4 feral children- by shutting down and tuning out, who is working through so many tender and fragile emotions that she must guard her wellbeing – sharing less in the moment with a world wide audience she can’t entirely trust.
I haven’t written much in years. For YEARS I have opened this dashboard and wondered if maybe I just can’t do this anymore. I know now that that was a symptom, and not the problem. It’s not that I’ve been too lazy or overwhelmed or uninspired to write. It’s that I’m trying to protect myself.
Everything that you hate about yourself is just you trying to survive.
Love yourself for staying alive.
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