I’m having an anxiety attack. I know what it feels like now. My chest is tight. It’s hard to breathe. My stomach is in knots. My face is all crinkled up. My shoulders are tense and high. My mind is racing. I know this. I understand it. That doesn’t make it easy to go through. Not knowing what was happening for so many months was terrifying. Now I know. It makes them less intense, but still unavoidable. I believe the stress of my life has cause me irreparable physical damage. What a fucking waste.
Years ago, I reached pro status as a second-guesser. And not just of myself. I instinctively second-guess everyone and ev-er-y-thing!
I’ve spent my lifetime perfecting this habit. In hindsight, I can honestly say it has not served me well. Instead, it’s been a huge waste of precious time. But it’s what I know and how I’ve always functioned.
It isn’t difficult for me to realize my constant self-criticism is the consequence of deep-seated low self-esteem and shame. Traumatic abuse (there’s really no other kind) cuts deep and leaves gnarly scars.
Thankfully, scars can diminish if treated. An hour spent talking with a therapist is infinitely more beneficial than trying to push through on sheer will-power. We aren’t meant to go it alone.
Seeking help from others demonstrates we’re strong enough to recognize things can be better. We realize we don’t have the answers because no one can possibly have all the answers.
I’m an expert on a few subjects and a complete novice on countless others. Thank goodness there are qualified people out there committed to providing thoughtful guidance and support when it’s needed.
We’re all branches attached to a tree. Some trees and their branches may provide us shade and protection. While others may crowd our space and take our resources.
It’s the branches on our tree that we need to tend. Nourishing and pruning profoundly enriches our life and the lives of the trees in our forest. A bit metaphorical, I know, but stick with me here.
Acknowledging struggle is the first step. Reaching out is the second. All the steps that follow will come one at a time. But we have to start because being caught in a spiral of pain and misery is not a punishment we deserve.
We are worthy of happiness. Even when we feel worthless, our spirit wants us to remember our value.
Sometimes it’s really easy to love ourselves. But not always. Sometimes the self-loathing is like a choke-hold. It grips tight to us, physically and mentally.
When that happens, we can breathe. Slowly feeling the air enter our body and leave under our control. That’s how acknowledgement is able to happen. And then we can take that second step.
I promise, there are people willing, able, and ready to lift you up.
Seek them out. Now. It’s okay.
And do all you can to second-guess your choices and yourself a little less every day. It will make room for the self-love your soul desires so that healing happens.
Today is the birthday of my biological father. I never met him and I never will. When I traveled back to Texas for the 2013 holidays, my mother told me that he had passed away a few months before then. She didn’t want to call me with the news. Better, she thought, to wait until we were together. Just one more piece of information she kept from me until she was ready to share it.
I regret never going to see him. I knew where he worked and the town where he lived. It was less than an hour from me for forty years. Now it’s too late. I may never even get the chance to see a picture of him. I’m told I look like him. I think I physically resemble my mother, but I have nothing to compare.
It’s possible to grieve the loss of someone you’ve never met. A bit surreal, for sure, but the pain is genuine. Of course, I don’t grieve any familial connection. I grieve the relationship that never was, that never will be.
I knew nothing of his existence until I was eleven. That’s when I discovered my daddy was actually my step-father. It was another ten years before I would reach out to my BD through a phone call. He shunned me, told me never to call him again and to tell my mother to stop trying to ruin other people’s lives. As a mother myself now, I can imagine how devastating that was for my mother to see her child go through. She was willing to call him back herself, but I was done.
Yet, I kept a little spark of hope in my heart that someday I would see his face, touch his hand, find solace, and maybe answers to at least some of my questions. That dream has died along with him, another loss from which I may or may not recover.
I won’t say that it “wasn’t meant to be”, nor do I believe I’m better off not knowing him. It simply is what it is. Tragic. Sad. Unfair. I just wish I had a photo of him…..
Had a nightmare last night that I discovered my dad was molesting a seven-year-old girl. I went to my parent’s house and saw the situation. Drew conclusions based on my experiences with him and the way he was acting. Confronted him and he was dismissive, claiming they were just friends, that she was a “sweet friendly little girl”. My mother was in complete denial, angry that I would once again accuse him of something like that. It was sickening, this feeling of anger and rage. Not feeling helpless anymore, though, because it wasn’t about me. I had to save that little girl. Maybe that little girl was me and I just need to save myself. It’s left me feeling out of sorts this morning. And more motivated to help other young people who are going through what I went through. It’s been almost thirty years since my abuse, but the wound was so severe, the scars are easy to access. The tears flowing, dripping silently from my eyes, come quickly when my mind goes back to that place.
Oh my God, the yelling is too much. I accept responsibility for the example I’ve set. I can’t, and won’t deny my own tendency to crank up the volume when stressed. However, I refuse to live like this day after day. There has to be a better way.
Can I make it for a few more years? Right now, in this moment, I just don’t see how. I don’t want to be me. I don’t like me. Many times I even hate me. Like today, when I’m so fucked up emotionally and completely overwhelmed. My frustration is on overdrive. I lash out at the ones I love. The guilt that follows is excruciating.
I despise feeling bad about myself. I know how to turn off the negative voices in my head. I’ve also learned to listen a little to see if it’s more of a warning than a cristicism. Sometimes I can’t tell the difference, I misunderstand, or I choose to ignore.
FEAR SUCKS!
I’ve spent too much of my life being afraid. And almost as much time being ashamed. What good has that brought me?
I choose relationships that don’t always bring out the best in me. Repeated behavior. Patterns so obvious, the only rational explanation is my lack of true self-love.
I know & yet I choose
Not what I want
Just whatever I can get
But I am grateful. Deeply grateful . I’m lucky and blessed. I’m still trying my best everyday.
