Sometimes the thoughts are all consuming. An indescribable, overwhelming feeling. A movie reel playing over and over in my head. A succinct reminder of what was. A reminder, I wanted something I wasn’t ready for. I wanted to thrive in the fantasy it provided me and that was never going to be real life. It was filling a void that I was feeling. An addiction, just like any other. It highlighted the most toxic traits within me. I am who I am because of you. As I reflect back, I think about what the biggest fear I had and that was that if I acknowledged that I wasn’t ready, I would lose this thing that meant so much to me. It was lost anyway. And I sigh at the discomfort that still brings. The love was real, the love still exists, I just wasn’t ready for it. I couldn’t accept it.
I am who I am because of you seems like a lot of power to give another human being and yet I relinquish it willingly. My intention is to highlight that me before you had no idea who I was, what I needed, and what I was missing. In all honesty, I am still trying to sort that out. Looking in the mirror constantly and only seeing me now as the driver of my life. I feel like I am on the verge of a change, in fact, I need one. I have been neglecting myself. Unmotivated to do things for me, claiming I don’t have time. I have time. Emotionally and spiritually, I have not been feeling well at all. Tired, longing, missing components that bring me sustenance and life. It’s a cycle that seems to come and go. I can’t seem to crack the code on it just yet. Maybe I never will. I need to look inward and find my way.
My body has been betraying me for what feels like an eternity. The reality it’s been months but feels like I can’t catch a break. My body just hurts. Each and every joint. I’ve been contemplating the idea that at the ripe young age of 43, I am in some state of perimenopause. At least that is what my mother wants me to shove down my throat. I think about how she would’ve responded if someone had tried to shove it all down hers. Either way I am not sure if I am but the recent pain, I am having with thus far no known cause could possibly be related to this transition in my life. It has however, brought up some feelings about my childbearing year and what my future holds. I had closed the door on the idea of another child a long time ago, at least that is what I thought. And yet there is a nagging feeling in the inner recesses of my mind telling me that I need to acknowledge the feelings that keep resurfacing. There is a void. I can't disregard that. A deep void and time is ticking away and there is no opportunity to change the reality that I am not in a position or in a partnership where children are in my future. Harsh reality. How do you reconcile this part of your life? My friend who lost her daughter a year ago, is in a contentious relationship with her partner due to her wanting another child and him being all set. I don’t say this flippantly, he has shared his boundary. He does however think she will eventually stop wanting another child and that they will resume unaltered, unchanged. She however, is growing more and more resentful. I will never know what the true impact of infant loss is. All I know is the loss of a dream. That loss, ever painful.
It feels heavy to acknowledge that. It feels passive and fear based but the reality is that the moment I agreed to stop so many years ago, I changed the direction of my life. I didn’t realize then what the implication of that would be. I had imagined the outcome so differently but I was nowhere near prepared for what it would mean for me and for others. It wasn’t just my dream. I couldn’t acknowledge that for so long. I was broken and harmful to myself and others. I was desperate to get my way. Desperate to dig my claws into the flesh of others, to not let go. My wounds, my need, took up the room and left no room for anyone else’s wounds. Broken souls trying to find their footing, trying desperately to create their dance. You can’t create beauty from that space or at least not from my experience. I feel that beauty has been created in the pain of it all. Ripping open the wounds, exposing the trauma, acknowledging my toxicity. All of that has created beauty with in me and in my world. Healing from codependency.
Acceptance has been the one thing that has brought me significant peace. I am at peace within the land of acceptance. This kind of experience isn’t for the faint of heart. It was grueling and painful and awful. I however, am steady in my resolve. I will forever be committed to growing myself. Change is essentially the key to any forward movement. I have often asked myself if we could have done it parallel to one another. I will never know. I mourn the loss of all the things that could have been. The things I sabotaged from the very start. Friendship, an extended, chosen family. My impulsive nature striking again. I have forgiven myself, I think but have not moved passed all the things that could have been if I had just slowed the fuck down.
I don’t know if that is helpful or useful or even necessary but it is a part of my process. I am all about processing. Processing myself, my world, my actions, all of it. I am responsible to myself and others. I am committed to maintaining my integrity and being consistent each and every day. My truth is what I am responsible for. My truth gives the other people all the information they need to decide how to engage with me, to move forward with me. My expectation is that there is reciprocity. Two whole people, coming together, to work towards a common goal. I welcome unhealed parts because I have them as well. I am not interested however in playing those unhealed parts together.
This post has been weeks in the making. I keep writing a little bit at a time because my thoughts are truly all over the place. I am sorting out how I want to make changes in my life. I have reached a place finally where I am beginning to feel comfortable with my new life. I say new because the last months have been in a constant stage of evaluation and adjustment. Constantly adjusting my mindset, my heart, my mind, and my being. It can truly be exhausting to feel like I have to make adjustments to myself all of the time. I suppose I am hyper focused on not reverting back to my old ways. To the ways in which I land in resentments and anger. I have to check myself constantly, I still over function. I still need in many ways to keep myself busy. And so, the work must continue.
Clients ask me all the time “how long does healing take?” My answer is always the same, the moment you can sit in your discomfort long enough to be alone with yourself. That is when it begins. I think of my journey and I think of the milestones and sometimes I am mind blown about the amount of time that has passed. It has been 17 months since I have experienced touch. 16 months since we uttered words. 13 months since I sent my last email communication. All of that time represents my healing journey. None of that was easy. I sat alone for so long questioning myself in every way imaginable. There were so many times I wanted to quit. To numb the pain. I replaced the desperation I felt with healthier coping mechanisms. My God, I was so desperate. I felt hopeless, broken and needy. Today, I am filled with hope and my broken parts feel put back together. The scars remain. I am proud of them in fact. They represent the battles I’ve endured. They represent my healing journey. I am committed to stay the course and while I am hopeful for the future, the recent past still informs my decisions.
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