I really struggled with writing this one.
For those who don’t know, I have been in a de-programming stage. I want to make something clear too; I’m not becoming reborn. I was born already and that act proved the relevance of my existence.
I am becoming that person that has been screaming to be seen and heard. Not by others.
By me. By me.
After a Friday of not feeling very well and a night of horrible blood sugars, low ones, tonight I am sitting in a restaurant in Itasca, IL, getting ready for a gig with a dear friend of mine. He’s the only person I will gig with for a variety of reasons. I got here early because I felt it was important to not rush to get ready and to relax and breathe.
My life over the last 2 years has been riddled with a lot of loss. So much loss. I’ve cried so much at times, I thought that my body would just fall to the ground by the weight of the tears. I have depression and anxiety and a recent diagnosis of PTSD. But these feelings are different.
And then it really hit me today as I changed a chapter in a book that I apparently began writing on January 23, 2013. The book is called “Me before We”, and boy it was a load of crap. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t me at all. I think I had to have known it when I was writing it but I probably didn’t change it because it was an image I felt had to be what I put out there to appease everyone else. So…
I rewrote it. And it was just…gut wrenching hard. At one point, I listed 3 pages of all the trauma I had endured from my first memory to the age of 31, and I mean I sobbed. I just sobbed so much that my tears felt like they were just recycling. As soon as they’d drop, they’d get wiped with the other tears, circle around my eyes and pour out again. I either buried it or just didn’t know how much I had been through.
And now I’m 55. So there’s added trauma that went unchecked and not managed.
But today though…it was not like it had been in years past.
Man, I cry a lot over the things I’m missing out on. I really do.
But the feeling of fear I have in my soul of not taking this opportunity to no longer miss out on myself; on who I am; on who I need to connect to and see. That scares me. That is what I’m doing right now and even though THIS SHIT IS HARD, I’m so glad I’m doing it.
Today…my husband came over by me and said “Rhonda, I am so happy to be with someone who is dealing in what you’re dealing in, and I love you. I really really love you.” And I do believe him. However…
This shit is hard.
Starting in January, my EMDR begins so that I can start to figure out where my triggers lie. I am not looking forward to it, but I am.
My mom told me so much stuff this past Friday. She had a brief moment of lucidity and she explained so much. She said “I know it seems I don’t know you, but I do. I don’t know you, but I do.” And she kept trying to get me to understand what she was trying to say as she cried. I told her I understood. I cried and told her the woman I will always know is the one who gave the last of what she had to feed a mom and her kids at McDonald’s. That’s what I told her.
And again, all of this is hard.
But, I’m sober.
I’m awake.
I’m walking through it.
I’m loving myself.
I’m starting to feel a little more free each day.
I’m using my time to focus on growth, not stagnation.
And I am loved.
And little by little, I’m starting to love myself.
And that shit is REALLY hard.
I’m never gonna get over it. I’m never gonna be cured. I’m going to live with it, and acknowledge it and work it out.
I’m gonna have really good days, and really bad days, some days I’ll be full of energy, and some, tired as fuck.
But, I’m here.
A lot of my writing is going to be a bit scattered in the coming months. Please have patience and know that this is more for my healing and those who are suffering in silence. If no one else sees you, see yourself. And even though this shit is hard, not dealing with it is worse.
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