Sometimes when you are on the road to becoming yourself you are so focused on arriving that you forget how far you’ve come on the journey. I truly believe it is so important as you heal yourself to take moments, hours, days, to pause and reflect. Take a break from the work. Congratulate yourself. Treat yourself for how far you’ve come. This work is really hard.
Two years ago I would drop everything I was doing if a friend called me and they were in need. It’s like I was existing to please. And they did. I took one friend in during this time two years ago, another friend expected me to take care of them for a month around this time when they were in need, after a loss of a family member. Every day they would ask me to stop at the store, bring them food, etc. They took full advantage of my selflessness. But was it really selfless? I only felt useful when I was doing things for others. And surely this would solidify our friendship. Right?
The friend that moved in after leaving an abusive relationship actually did have a few good qualities. They showed me things about myself. “Why are you apologizing”, they would say to me. I would say “I’m sorry” after having an opinion. I would say it after saying almost anything. The other good thing about the person who was living with me was they loved lighting candles. Something that to this day gave me major anxiety because my father was a firefighter. The fear of fire was passed along to me. The person who moved in with me I had known almost my whole life. They also just so happened to be the person I was with in a horrific car accident when we were 14. I was driving. Another unhealed trauma reminder.
This person knew as time went on that I was extremely nervous to tell my mom that they moved into the spare room. That was the room she stayed in when she visited. “But this is your house”, they said. So gentle with me about it. Compassionate, yet worried eyes. Not quite understanding my thought process. I was scared to even tell my mom they moved in. Scared of what she would say. Her reaction is something I could feel through my whole body.
After I was hospitalized for my breakdown and released these friends faded away. The friend I took in moved out. I was left with only myself. I was medicated heavily, and like I’ve said in previous posts I was severely depressed for six months. Because medication wasn’t going to solve my problem. I had to get right with my soul. So I got medication free and started to explore my thoughts. I thought deeply about love, what that meant to me. I did it quietly. I did it without rushing. And then I got the idea of writing a book, “How would I start to write my life story”, I thought. That’s when I realized my life didn’t start with myself, it started with my parents and their trauma. I had to let that out first.
So I wrote, and I wrote, and I wrote. I was under no timeline. I just knew that every time I wrote down a trauma I endured I felt better inside. Then it came time to start to address my true feelings towards the way my mom had treated me my whole life. I looked at the blank page and I was terrified. I started writing my true feelings for the first time. Afterwards I was so scared the journals would be found I tried to find a good hiding spot for them. Something I’m not totally proud of, I even told my son that if anything ever happened to me to please take them and make sure no one read them but him. You can judge me for that one if you want, but I don’t have another next of kin nearby. I just knew I could not let my true feelings be written down and then be found by my mother. The only way I could feel safe to continue to express them was to have a plan in place in case I died. That’s how terrified I was of her reactions inside. Those feelings were real, and they were cultivated over a lifetime of psychological and emotional abuse and control.
So today, two years in the future from that girl who would give the world to anyone but herself. I can light candles and leave the room, not a care in the world. No longer images of my house burning down if I light one in my house. I love candles so much. I’ve started using the spare room for myself, moving the bed. Making a desk for writing. Confirming with myself that if the question were ever to be asked again I would say I think a hotel would be best from now on. I haven’t heard from those friends, the ones I was killing myself to please. I wish them well on their journey. I am freely writing on the internet about the abuse I have experienced from my mother, no longer hiding my journals, in fact I am allowing myself to feel the rage I’ve always suppressed. As I’ve gone along in my healing journey I’ve also realized some pretty cool things that have happened as a result that I wasn’t expecting. I’m now calmer as I drive. I won’t say my road rage is completely gone, but the progress I’ve made and the reduction in my anxiety is unbelievable. I no longer feel anxiety grocery shopping, or in stores in general. For my whole adult life this would be a fight. I sometimes would have full blown panic attacks while shopping. Now I’m completely calm, actually enjoying the experience. I’m traveling by myself, I have a trip coming up that I planned for me and my son. This was something that was always previously controlled by my mom. I remember when I decided to plan the trip, having the knowledge of how upset she’d be that she wasn’t involved. Doing it anyway. Gaining so much confidence in myself in the process.
I still have progress to make, im not perfect. This is the journey to loving myself. I finally feel like im worthy. I can finally see from a detached place how sad it was to be the former me. Practically begging for love, only finding people that take advantage of the fact that I was broken inside. I’m now whole again. Healing wounds I didn’t even know were there. I didn’t see a problem with them until I looked a little harder. I’m becoming myself for the first time. And I love her.
The Girl Without A Face 