A Walking Wound

When I started the therapy process, I was hesitant to admit any of my past wounds. I wanted to focus on the present–find strategies to overcome all of the panic and anxiety I had been suffering from.

However, my amazing therapist had other plans. She knew that the reason I was experiencing panic and anxiety in the first place was because I had some kind of underlying trauma–even if I didn’t want to go there.

And then, despite all my hesitation, my panic led me there. I wanted to run and hide, but the expectation of possibly having to spill out my past threw me into a whole new level of panic. I found myself back on the phone, back in her office, much more quickly than I expected.

Seeing the cycle

Mom issues rarely happen in isolation.

Don’t get me wrong–if you struggle with an unloving mother, or an abusive mother, or a narcissistic mother–or a mother so unlike that of “popular” culture–YOU feel isolated. YOU feel alone, unloved, and unlovable.

You look all around you and see other moms and daughters–shopping, having lunch, traveling together–and in YOUR heart, you feel a pang of sadness, regret, and loss.

If you are anxiously attached and seek relationships–ahem, ME–you might seek out other women as role models, letting them mother you as much as they can and also fearing the day they might take their leave.

But, maybe, one day, you will also transcend some of the pain and loss and bullshit. Maybe, one day, you will work your ass off in therapy, erect the strongest boundaries you can muster, and learn that you can be loved–and some people will continue to love you even through your less than stellar moments.

Calm versus Chaos

When I first started this blog, my emotional health was at an all time low. I was a DISASTER (thus the blog name). But, bravely, I continued to pursue healing and therapy. Day after day, week after week, and month after month.

Progress occurred, but in my mind it was slow and hard. Therapy is hard work, man. It is deep, soul-wrenching, earth shattering, WORK.

Luckily, I was graced with the most amazing therapist to guide me through the process. Oooohhh, the patience this amazing woman had/has for me will never cease to blow my mind. I challenged her, I clung to her, I pushed her away…always so sure she would abandon me, too.

Through her steadfast faith in me, I grew. I, slowly, began to heal. I began to need her less and less, and gained faith in myself and my other relationships.

Healing work will never be done. That is something I learned the hard way. There will never be a magic day where I wake up and realize, “I am healed!” 

No…life is a spectrum, and I will always have some struggles–but, I can say confidently that I am on the other side of the spectrum.

The Power Deferential

I am a thirty something woman.

My whole life, I have struggled to please others–especially the bosses or influential people around me.

I crave their approval. I want their validation. I want to know I am good enough.

“I HAVE to love you, but I don’t HAVE to like you.”

I teach little people every day. Seven and eight year olds, to be precise. This year, I have one friend who can be particularly challenging. He is a boy on the spectrum, not in control of his emotions and easily overwhelmed by sensory stimuli and frustrations.

He feels best right next to me. Getting one on one attention. Holding my hand. Hugging me. Being up in my bubble. Each day, I do these things for him because he is also a child of poverty and neglect and it is my job to love and take care of him while I have him.

The other day, we were walking together. He had been having a rough day, and his signal is yelling, “I hate (whatever is bothering him).” Often, it is me, or a friend, or school, or his mother. My response is typical–“I’m so sorry you are feeling that way right now.”

After having numerous breakdowns that day, he held my hand and calmed down as I led him on a walk. He squeezed my hand hard and asked me, “Do you like me or do you hate me?”

I looked this sweet boy in the eyes. He held my gaze for a second, and looked elsewhere, uncomfortable with direct eye contact, as I said to him, “I don’t hate you at all. I love you.” He took a deep breath and relaxed, ready to go back into the classroom.

Time

Time has been a good thing for me.

While in the very midst of counseling, time felt like a foe. Each and every day was a battle. Nights were long, full of anxiety and worry and overthinking. Each minute stretched out endlessly and I would focus on just trying to make it through another day, until I could reach the safety of my therapist’s office once more. 

Reflections

Do you ever have a moment of clarity, where it becomes impossible to deny how incredibly hard you are on yourself?

I had that moment today, as I had a conversation with a treasured friend.

More Me.

I’ve been avoiding writing lately. Why? I do not know. Other than, it is always easier for me to write–or really, necessary, for me to write, when I am depressed or hurting.

And, perhaps, that it is it. I am not depressed and hurting any more.

Don’t get me wrong. My stress level as of late has been pretty incredible. There is no tired like end of the school year tired. My days have been a blur of field trips, field days, graduations, assemblies, parties, and behaviors.

It has been EXHAUSTING, and I have been in total survival mode.

And suddenly, I am there.

A week ago, the most amazing thing happened to me.

It was so empowering, so moving…that I haven’t even been able to write about it until now. I had to keep it–secure, and close to my heart–just to me.