Writing has always been my outlet. It is my way of venting, of processing…of figuring out what I am even thinking.
One side effect of this, however, is that I tend to write more frequently when I feel bad. The emotions during tumultuous times need to be let out…so I hit the keyboard.
Lately? Lately I have been feeling a lot better. Not perfect. I have noticed spans of melancholy and I can easily fall back into old, not-so-healthy patterns. But, overall, my need to write has been less.
Today, however, that need felt big again. I felt that overwhelming desire to get on my computer and start typing away. I have something to say. Continue reading
Not knowing the future is hard.
There is safety in being able to plan. In being able to predict.
My early childhood was a series of unpredictable events. Scary things that happened. Fear and anxiety from not knowing what would happen next…and what that would mean for me, a terrified little girl, trying to cope with the constant upheaval.
That fear–that anxiety–became my normal. I learned to order my world, to try to predict as much as I could, and to control every aspect that I could. It is the root of my perfectionism. Continue reading
I’ve written over the last month that I am having a really hard time. I’ve been down…dark, and depressed. I’ve been fighting bouts of anxiety and nervousness, and stomach issues that are a result of all of it, but also make all the stress and nervousness worse.
I have been feeling trapped. And stuck. And hopeless. Continue reading
Yesterday, I cracked open yet another self-help book–one I’ve been wanting to read because it is magically going to tell me how to be self-compassionate.
The very first chapter made me stop and think. This chapter dealt with our perception of pain and with it came a novel idea (to me): Pain is increased when we resist it. Pain is decreased when we accept it.
In fact, the more resistance that we feel, the more our pain amplifies and turns into suffering. Continue reading
It’s a word I’ve thrown around a couple of times. An overwhelming wave of emotion. Shockingly, however, while I can feel and name this emotion, I have really never thought to examine its underlying cause.
I mean, where does my shame come from? Why do I feel it so heavily and so readily? Continue reading
On Thursday, still reeling from my latest EMDR session, I
wrote all about the overwhelming and messy feelings that I was struggling with. It was an emotionally charged post and, un-shockingly, one that made me realize just how hard I can be on myself.
You see, I was so ashamed of myself for realizing that I rely on my failures to shape the person that I am. I was ashamed that I rely on other people’s opinion of me when setting my own self-worth. And, I was ashamed when I realized how strongly judgmental I am…no, not of others, but of myself. Continue reading
Yesterday, I embarked on another EMDR journey–this time, in an attempt to get to the bottom of my perfectionism. The journey itself was not as traumatic and difficult as some of the others have been, and images did come swimming before my closed eyes. One image–of a high cinder block wall that I was trying to scale, jump off of, and leave behind–seems especially relevant in my attempt to escape my little town, where I was known, had history, and, most likely, very few secrets. Breaking into my cliquish peer group as an outsider was never something that I feel like I completely achieved, and my experiences of being bullied, not fitting in, and then trying to prove myself and be better than some of them, certainly contributed to my feelings of inferiority and judgment.
So, while this was telling to me, these are not the moments that stood out to me during this EMDR session. Continue reading