I haven’t posted for a few weeks because I wanted my blog to be a happy place. Last semester it was full of sad stories: I hated living alone, I got a bad grade, I missed my family. But the thing is, my blog isn’t a ‘place’– it’s a reflection of where I am. And to be honest, I’m NOT in a happy place. Sure, my grades are great, my job is amazing, and I have a killer group of friends. It looks like everything is wonderful, but that is far from the truth.
You see, 2013 was supposed to be a fresh start. Everything that I was holding onto that rattled my brain during my sleeping hours was supposed to be flushed. I wanted to be DONE dealing with ugly memories from my childhood (and the past few months). I was over it impacting every second, every breath, every ounce of my being. But just like I wasn’t in control of my childhood, I’m not I’m control of how the past is impacting me (which royally sucks).
I’m sure you’re wondering, ‘What happened?’ I wish I could scream the truth from a rooftop for all to hear, but I can’t. My heart doesn’t allow me to hurt people in the ways that they hurt me. What matters is that some people and events have lead me to such a dark, heartbreaking place. And I have to deal with it.
I think it’s less hurtful if I explain where I am with someone else’s words (maybe I’m cowardly?). So, I stole some from my favorite blogger’s, Sarafina Bianco, post “5 Things an Abused Woman (this woman) Wants You to Know”:
“I won’t get over it…soon.
I can’t get over it because my life has been forever changed. Downplaying the severity isn’t helpful; it’s denial. Acknowledgment and acceptance are necessary.
Some days are easier than others; I know it’s getting better. Yet there are days that I’m crying before I get out of bed. I don’t want to leave my apartment. I’m angry and sad and scared. The world isn’t one that seems to hold opportunity on those days. It’s a place that swallows me whole. On those days I have to remind myself that I was in such a devastatingly bad place a year prior. I have to allow myself to cry in the shower, so that I can keep it together during the work day. I have to be angry on the way to work, and I have to remind myself that I wasn’t allowed to feel anything for two years of my life. I wasn’t allowed to be human, so how can I expect myself to act like I am human?
Every week I feel stronger, even though I’m digging into the issues further and further in therapy. I do feel better…but just because my recovery doesn’t fit your needs doesn’t make my small steps any less significant for me. I am moving forward. If you can’t handle the pace, then just don’t say anything at all. I will get there. Your doubt and criticism prolong the recovery process.”
That’s exactly where I am.