I am happy… so, so peacefully & truly happy…
For someone with a lifetime of trauma this is oddly taxing in a painful sort of waiting-for-the-other-shoe-to-drop kinda way.
A few months ago we attended a talk called The Price of Admission by Dr. Laura Brown about the effects growing up with “less than adequate parents” creates. She talked about how when you grow up with trauma your brain learns to always be on alert, to be ready for the other shoe to drop. When she said that it was a total A-Ha moment for me.
Why, here I am entering my last year to earning my Bachelor’s degree, living in a location that is a dream, building a studio just for me, in a job that is a sanctuary (my partner’s term, very true), engaged to the love of my life who is also my best friend, my ptsd symptoms are becoming less violent and my flashback much rarer and, yet, still I often feel this sense of impending doom…
I’d been beating myself up about before her talk.
I’m not stoked about it, but I feel like I understand it enough to compassionately meet myself where I am even it it/me make no sense to myself.
Because trauma’s a bitch.
She’s not letting go without a fight.
The more I research the effects of growing up with an abusive, unloving narcissistic mother, the more I understand how deep these wounds are. The more I research sexual assault trauma and its effects, the more I understand how, even though it was likely only 7 or 8 minutes of my life, it continues to haunt me. The more I learn, the more I begin to make peace with the truth that I will carry these wounds to my death.
There is no erasing them.
There is only healing in that healing brings a softening to them, a quietening to those voices until they are often such soft whispers I don’t hear them unless I listen. There is healing enough so that most days I can sense *him off in the distance before a flashback can begin and (with conscious effort, but still) tightly pull my attention away from those memories and pain. There is only the healing that means when I ‘know‘ I’m worthless, stupid, too much, too me that I know those thoughts are lies – even when part of me still believes…
This is what I have come to understand healing to mean.
And so, here I sit in my newly finished studio, robins singing their evening song outside, and I acknowledge my wounds and celebrate my joys…
I think that’s enough for now.