Hiatus . . . and an epiphany
Updated: Mar 1
Spent the last week getting my little man over the hump of an illness he then, so kindly, shared with me. There was lots of coughing and sneezing and sleeping. All while trying to learn my role in a new job.
We party like rock stars folks.
While he was gone for the weekend, and I slept a TON, I had some epiphanies. Although are they ACTUAL epiphanies when they happen during sleep? Yes? No? Does it matter?
Anyways. I am embracing the fact that I have had trauma in my childhood and the remainder of my life. It is a constant storyline with every therapist but I don't think I've ever embraced it. I talk about it, write about it, own it - then back into a corner. Like this and every other blog. And I hang onto shit that I know does NOTHING but weighs me down.
Where does that leave me? Glad you asked.
I have decided I no longer want to be THE VICTIM of my trauma. That's a big thing to own and carry and it really defines me and everything in and around me and my life. I am "A" victim of trauma. One of the millions that have walked this path before, and will come after me. I can no longer use that as an excuse or a scapegoat or any other kind of ill-advised crutch.
Brilliant, you think. By golly, I think she's GOT it. My therapist will be proud in ten minutes. But what does that REALLY mean? That means no more bullshit excuses. No more hanging onto dead-weight people I should have dropped off the door YEARS ago (that's right, there's room but you gotta go Jack). No more hanging on to the painful memories, the letdowns, the poor choices, and allowing them to define my next idiotic choice or move.
I am better. I know better. I can DO better.
Maya Angelou once said - when you KNOW better, DO better. And I have quoted it . . . and promptly ignored the shit out of what it really meant. Shit I've known better since I was a small, small girl. But there is some iota of comfort in the pain. The depression sleep is better than any drug or drink or ride or dopamine rush I've ever had. Staying locked in my house is safe and comfy ... and isolating and boring and lonely.
I said goodbye to what I thought once was the love of my life. Sounds like the start of every sappy novel and Lifetime movie you've ever seen, don't it? But I really did. And the back story of the whole thing would leave your head spinning. Would really make you question my intelligence.
I need to stop living in the past or, alternatively, two months into the future. I just had a great therapy session and she pointed out my inability and discomfort in just being in the moment. I never really thought about it. My brain is always so busy and, truly, so pessimistic and worried about how I'm going to spend the time because I might somehow lose it - well I ultimately burn it.
And my mania is a WEE BIT HIGH right now so I'm taking everything with a grain of salt.
Ultimately - I want my past in the past. I don't want to spoon-feed my trauma or continue in or return to situations that should have long ago been done. I'm ready to move. I'm ready to find community and not live a life being shelled up alone afraid of wasting time - only to realize I spent my free time worrying about wasting time.
If this blog entry was everywhere and nowhere all at once - well, welcome to my brain. I need to start writing at night when I have GREAT ideas and the words just flow.
A new chapter of my life - let's do this shit. To the past - thank you for all you've taught me. It's been, well, something.