I Am Becoming

This will be a continuation of my last post, so if you want to catch up, you can read it here.

This week as my last words hung in the air, like an unresolved melody woven through painfully minor chords, I have been fighting this nagging urge to make sure everyone understands what I said as I meant it. This exposure and lack of control has been a little daunting, but that has to be good for the ego, right? I’ve come a long way from the scared little girl I was, but I am still IN this. Each time I dive into a painful part of my childhood, when I come up for air, I still feel it, in my stomach, all over my skin. The pain sticks with me, in smaller quantities, but evident. I am still healing, so I continue to revisit those traumas here and there. Sometimes it is to take the charge off of the more painful memories, but often it’s when I’m triggered by a relational interaction and an unhealthy pattern emerges (e.g., withdrawing, keeping secrets, shrinking down, protecting others from my feelings, withholding affection). I can trace that pattern back to the childhood wounding that taught me I need to act that particular way in order to feel safe or loved, and then I can evaluate its necessity in my present reality. So, thank you for walking alongside me as I express, process, step forward, retreat, and repeat. Your kind words have felt like some sort of safety.

“I used to think that the traumatic or trying events in my life were a seven-piece luggage set that traveled with me where I went.” – Meggan Watterson, REVEAL

For most of my life, I’ve been wary of my past. I was troubled with what it made me, like it made me some kind of sad specimen in the petri dish of life. I didn’t want people’s pity, but I did want their understanding. I wanted so badly to be known, and the older I got, the more pressing this underlying need for honesty and deep knowing grew…to the point it started bubbling over, messy and uncontrollable. I wanted so badly to be known by the people around me; the old and new friends I loved dearly, my husband, my girls, my family back home. On the other hand, I was terrified that if I allowed myself to go into the pain, to allow myself to be sad and angry, I would not be able to dig myself out. I feared that I would be lost in it forever, and everything I built and everyone I loved would leave me.  (As I write this now, somewhere on the other side of this, it almost feels overly dramatic – this fear and longing I’m describing. But let me assure you, while I was there, my fear of loss was the most real thing I knew. It controlled every aspect of my life.)

It turns out though, it’s not true. Not really any of it. I didn’t need people to know that little girl. I needed to know that girl. It turns out, I needed understanding, of myself, for myself. I needed to understand me. I needed to KNOW me. Allowing myself to venture down this unknown path has led to an incredible freedom and peace. I had to walk through the sadness and the hurt to stop feeling sad and hurt. I needed to express my anger in order to stop feeling angry; I needed to give myself permission to acknowledge that I was, indeed, very angry. I needed to absorb, process, and extract truth from these experiences, so as not to be doomed to forever deflect the effects of this trauma on others, onto my husband, onto my girls, onto my family.

I will be forever grateful to my EastLake community for opening my eyes to this road of healing. They have always been an advocate for seeking professional help, and not just when things get really shitty, but as a means of further understanding ourselves in order to enhance the quality of life, for ourselves and others around us. I take care of myself so that I may be a beneficial presence in the world. This last year, I’ve learned from so many people and resources; the many speakers at EastLake, psychologists, therapists, personal growth tools like the Enneagram and the Hoffman process, retreats, coffee chats and girlfriend getaways, books and podcasts, intensive therapy sessions dealing with childhood trauma and negative-love patterns, and others. These days, I am constantly processing, and analyzing; incessantly pulling meaning out of every syllable of life I can. It is beautiful, sometimes exhausting, but the only way I know to function now.

Here are some things I’ve learned (about myself) this last year:

My story can be my contribution or my prison. I can own it, or it can own me. I have chosen to extract truth and meaning from it instead of allowing it to define me. I am not what I’ve lived through or what happened to me. I choose what I hold on to and what I let go.

Everyone is doing their best. This includes every person who has contributed to my story, for good or bad. We are all doing the best we can with the limited knowledge and tools handed down to us (and everyone has limited knowledge; the idea that a person can hold absolute truth over another seems problematic and unreasonable). I believe this about myself, and this gives me an infinite amount of compassion for myself, which in turn spreads to compassion and grace for others. I know I mess up, but goddamnit I’m doing my best. I hope that others see this in me. I hope people feel this about themselves. “I did then what I knew how to do. Now that I know better, I do better.” ― Maya Angelou

If I deprive myself of feeling sadness, longing, anger, or hurt, then I cannot fully embody joy, love, or peace. There is beauty and necessity in experiencing the full spectrum of my emotions, and something to be learned living in each of these spaces. I’m learning that I travel through these uncomfortable emotions. They don’t last forever, which has made it easier to embrace them. They can also often exist within the same space as joy or happiness. When describing the emotions I feel, it’s rarely an either/or, but more of an and/both. Emotions are complex little creatures.

My emotions are my responsibility and I cannot hold that responsibility for anyone else. Once, my therapist told me that I was absorbing another person’s emotions. That has been an extremely helpful phrase that I keep in my back pocket. It used to be that instead of empathizing and being a listening ear, I would turn into a little sponge and soak up all the emotions in the room, especially if the emotions were directed towards me. Instead of saying, “It sounds like you’re really sad,” I’d turn myself into sadness, and then hold onto it for a few days for them. This type of behavior is exhausting, unproductive, and probably a little enabling.

My inner-peace, happiness, and well-being are my responsibility, and I cannot hold that responsibility for anyone else. Although I am in deeply intimate relationships with other humans, there is a place where I end and they begin. I am my own person and do not belong to anyone. I get to choose the level of intimacy I share with others.

No one knows me better than I know myself, and therefore I am the ultimate authority on what I allow into my life. I can ask for and receive guidance, but it is up to me to take this input and discern, parse out, and implement into my life.

My behavior and actions are a matter of choice and not compulsion. If things become overwhelming, or I am at a loss of what to do, I turn inward and do work there first.

I cannot make everyone understand or force them to want to. I cannot control the way people see me. I am responsible to live my life.

I cannot control the way people treat me, but I am responsible for setting boundaries.

I am becoming better at BEING in uncomfortable or unresolved situations, without the need for me to fix or proffer a false peace. I’m learning that it’s okay if things are not okay. I am and will be okay. “I do not fix problems. I fix my thinking. Then problems fix themselves.” – Louise L. Hay

I am learning to stand my ground, exactly where I am, exactly to the point of self-actualization that I am in that very moment; not one day before or after, not puffing up to protect myself, and not shrinking down to enable others.

I am not broken and in need of fixing. I am whole, enough, complete. I have everything I need to be a mom, a life partner, a creative, an assistant, a loving human to a hurting world. I am resourceful and resilient.

My body is a wonderland, cheesy but true, and I have been too hard on it for too many years. It has been a miraculous thing to look in the mirror and love the person looking back at me. I see her, and I love her. What I used to see as imperfections, I have a hard time seeing these days. Those thoughts pop up here and there, but it’s less often and with less intensity. When I’m alone in front of a mirror, just for a few moments every day, I stare into my eyes. I take time to marvel at my naked body before I get into a shower. When I make it to the gym, I sneak peeks of myself and admire how strong and graceful I am. Each time I do this, I speak beautiful things to myself, because I am, without a doubt in my mind, beautiful.

I am f’ing strong. I am brave. I am resilient. I am inherently worthy of love. I am inherently good. I am, in my truest form, patient, kind, one who sees the best in people, humble, generous, slow to anger, quick to love, empathetic, hopeful, perseverant, and curious. Because I believe this about myself, I believe this about you.

I am a peacemaker. I used to think this meant I was a pushover, but now I understand it as a maker of peace; true peace, a peace that comes with being fully integrated, my inner world with my outer world. I choose to put energy towards creating peace in myself, and letting that spill over to those around me. I choose to be the same person to myself that I am to others, and vis versa. I choose to be a shining light into my journey in hopes this will take others one step closer to finding their own personal peace, and in turn they will spread it to their circle of influence. “As we let our light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence actually liberates others.” – Marianne Williamson

So, I’m not sure what this blog will be. For now, I’ll just keep writing…and hoping; that what I say here helps you to not feel alone. I hope you see that I am doing my best. I hope you see that in yourself.