Silent for a reason
Actually, for several reasons.
This year has been a lot – exhausting with the ground shifting under my feet and me trying not to fall. After I wrote Drowning things didn’t just unravel; they exploded all over the place.
Earthquake time!
Instead of lava there was a flood of trauma I didn’t realize was still stuck in my body, nervous system and mind. Some days my mind took the lead with my nervous system following closely behind and my body all out of breath trying to catch up.
Some days my body ran amok, and my mind and nervous system ducked out of the way, only to help calm it down later.
Some days my nervous system shut down, and my mind and body sprang into action to get it back online.
Sounds tiring?
You bet!
I’ll write more about what happened and how I got there, but for now I just want to let you know why I’ve been quiet.
Today feels like the first day this year where I’ve actually had space to breathe.
I’ve been working on finding myself and healing those deep trauma wounds for about six years. Two years ago, I decided to write a book about that ongoing journey.
But wow, did I underestimate just how far from “done” I was.
I had come a long way. I felt better in my skin. I was happier. I thought I had reached the deep layers.
Turns out I had barely scratched the surface.
I’m not here to knock any approach that promises healing or relief. If it works for you, that’s amazing.
But for those of us with CPTSD, the journey back to ourselves is just as complex as the name suggests.
There are so many layers.
There is so much shame.
There is so much pain.
You’re literally drowning in it – without realizing it. It becomes fully entangled in your personality. In my case since birth or as I just found out even pre-birth.
Like the water I later almost drowned in, it was all around me – constantly.
It’s a bit like a potato slice dropped into hot oil to become a potato chip. Good luck trying to separate the oil and the potato after the fact.
I love that I just thought of that example. That’s exactly it.
Now you just need to add a bucket of shame and dump it on that one potato chip. You know, that potato chip that never wanted to be one. The one that was born happy to be a potato.
That one.
Not its fault, you say?
Well, thanks. That’s kind of my point. Yet here we are having to defend ourselves for all that oil we were fried in - and all those wounds it caused.
I was able to lift that blanket of shame and check what was underneath.
There was anger. There was sadness. There was fear. There was disgust.
All neatly covered by shame and other secondary emotions.
And just like our little potato chip, it wasn’t easy to get out from under that thick blanket of shame.
But I did it.
And now I’m locating and gathering all those other chips that once formed that potato.
One by one, they are daring to show themselves, and the reunion has been great.
Will we get back to being a happy potato? I sure hope so. We’re looking good - just missing a bit of skin.
Stay tuned.
I’m adding this picture that has nothing to do with anything, but I like it. And just like the sun, I’m tired and in need of a good night’s sleep.
Hugs 🌻 Love that sunset