I have frequently seen the last year and a half as a journey… A journey through painful growth; a journey through traumas, re-lived and re-processed… A journey full of transformation and an “un-becoming” of the person that trauma, neglect, and criticism made me believe that I was. Continue reading
Strength comes in all forms.
Being strong is not always what it seems.
It does not always look like a tough woman, conquering the world.
I came home from my therapy appointment today and curled up in a cocoon. Wrapped in a warm, fuzzy blanket, I lay on the couch, staring out the window…paralyzed by a brain that thinks, and thinks, and thinks.
I. am. SO. Frustrated.
I want to move. I want to grow. I want to bust out of the funk that I have been trapped in for months and months.
I have not been a religious person over the last ten years, nor did I have a very religious upbringing. I fell into a crowd of religious teens during my teenage years, but swiftly denounced much of that after witnessing what I felt was a lot of hypocrisy and hate. Plus, I went to college, and became “too smart for that.”
I’m learning my journey back to religion isn’t very unique. No…many, many people follow a similar path and, when they find that they can no longer walk the hard journey of life alone, they seek something more.
That is what I did. About 6 months ago, in the midst of yet more struggles, I decided I needed to try giving some of my pain–my hardship–to someone bigger than myself. Someone who could, I hoped, give me some comfort. Continue reading
It just came to me. Right now.
I have asked, Why is it so hard to let go of that hope of having a mom who cares?
And, Why do I feel so lonely, at times? Why do I have to NEED someone to talk to? Why is that the only thing that makes me feel better?
The last year has been so hard for me.
But, you wouldn’t know.
You know that I have struggled with anxiety and depression. I confessed this to you, bawling, in a moment of weakness when I felt broken…hoping, hoping, that you could help fix me. You told me women in our family are tough. We don’t let anxiety win…we are better than that.
You never told me that it was just okay. Continue reading
There is a part of myself that I hate, and that part of self hates me.
We are enemies, this part and I. Continue reading