I just found this post I wrote last week but never uploaded. It’s a bit of a lengthy one. And not quite as relevant now as it was back then but I feel it needs to be put out there and shared, so here you are. 🙂
As the autumn leaves fall and the winter winds sweep,
These days bring something from which I want to keep.
They bring strength, resilience, abilities.
Abilities to keep going no matter what.
Abilities to keep faith in the midst of everything feeling as though you shouldn’t.
Abilities that I see help you grow into the being you are supposed to be.
Because all will be okay, something perhaps I am only just seeing.
Times are changing, and I am too.
Sometimes I feel I’m not. Sometimes it feels just how it’s always been, but worse.
But others I see that this is just a phase.
I have these moments I can feel myself in ten years, looking back on this time now.
Looking back with compassion and laughter and tears at what I fought through and for. At what felt as though it had brought me to the floor, yet all it did was show me I could only do more.
I see me helping someone in the place. Mid twenties and crumbling.
I see me offering understanding and comforting words, that “this too shall pass”.
I don’t know how but there is a glimpse that this might happen. That this is not forever. That all my worst case scenarios of craziness and hospital might not actually happen.
Slowly…just slowly, my efforts and strength are coming together it seems. Just as I chose with my meds, I decided they were the right ones. I decided I would cope with the side effects they might bring. I decided I would make it work. That these were right. I stuck to the tiniest of doses, determined not to take more. Determined not to try another one, as I had dabbled with so many yet they all brought turmoil. This one did too, but something was different. There was an edge to it, be it a change in me or a change in my physiology, but there was an edge that left room for error. Before this I could not, and would not, cope with that. The only edges I had were those supporting survival.
As a friend said, this is a sign of health.
The same has come for therapies. I’ve been round and round through thick and thin trying to make something work but always being left lost and longing for more. More wisdom. More opportunity. More class. More grace. More manners. Less of a motherly face.
And yet this week, I’ve decided. I’ve decided to try a lady out. For many reasons, which I won’t go into just yet, I’m not entirely comfortable with it. In fact, I’m terrified.
But I feel like I’m determined. Determined to make it work. I know that with anyone I’ve met with an attempt to work with them in a therapeutic relationship, there’s always been something. And there will always be something. And this is just the nature of these kind of things. And any other relationship in life at that matter.
I’m scared of where my life is going. I’m scared that I’m not going to get through this. I’m constantly scared that I’m going mad. For those of you that saw the last doodle I uploaded here, that is pretty much a constant fear dialogue of mine!
But who knows. Who knows what’ll happen. And that’s just the thing.
I’m terrified of how spaced out I feel at the moment. And then I have to remind myself that I’m still very much recovering from a gigantic tooth and HEAD infection, still taking the hefty antibiotics, had cranial sacral yesterday, and have just finished my period. This to anyone would make you feel weird and spaced.
Why does it always leave me feeling like I’m falling off the wagon? What if I’m just going through a big transition of feelings and emotions and states rising to the surface, to be healed and seen. And then head on their way. What if, for my entire life I’ve held everything in and down and stuffed away because it was never safe to let it be seen. What if now is my time to let this all be shown. What if, letting it be seen now is no fact for the future. It’s just a fact for now. And these feelings? They’re not fact. They’re just feelings.
I’m scared of the PTSD too. And I have been for a while. I’m scared to sit myself beneath that title, for what it might bring. But, provided I keep a connection to myself and everything else, letting this title be part of me, surely must only help things?
This fear is heightened, and potentially caused by, storytelling and judging of myself. These judgements and storytelling goes a little something like this: how long I’ll have it for; that I’ll have it forever; that it’s only going to be getting worse; how I am destined to be a mess forever or at least a very long time; that I’m not going to fulfil my potential; that I’ve failed for letting myself get to this point; that I’ve failed for not being able to overcome the trauma myself; that I’ve failed for not being more balanced and losing my ability to always be so rational; that I’ve failed for crumbling; that I’ve failed for struggling with money; that I’ve failed because I’m living with a random lady, not friends or family; that I’ve failed because I don’t have family to turn to; that I’ve failed because I could no longer hold onto the capable, coping, girl I was…etc etc.
It makes me feel sick when I sit and think of this. Sometimes it turns into panic, but generally it’s just a constant level of worry and angst, floating about. And I hate it.
And I trust that right now, the only thing I can do is keep going.
Keep going because I just don’t know what might happen. It all might start improving, it all might get worse. Or it might do a bit of both. Who knows. As I type, just the fact that I don’t know makes me feel sick with worry: just the fact that I don’t know exactly what is going to happen in my life freaks me out. And yet, isn’t this quite funny? This is definitely a time to laugh. I freak out on such a regular basis because i can’t predict things…?! Beneath this appearance of a control freak, is actually a real care to myself. A care that I want to know what is going to happen, so I can change what I do, say, am, and am becoming, so that I don’t become a mess. This is all what it boils down to:
I am so scared of not knowing where my life is going or how it’s going to turn out, in case I turn out a failure and a mess, and miss the chance to take a different route or do things slightly differently, to stop me becoming my mum or my dad, to stop me becoming crazy (like them, and like I feel so often at times right now – in the midst of anxiety & it all), or to stop me ending up wasting my life and wasting the potential and skills I have, to stop me collapsing beneath the weight and pressure and trauma of what’s been before…and on the list goes.
Basically, I would do everything I could to stop me winding up in any of those above scenarios. But that’s where I need to stop and trust that all that determination and persistence and will, is playing itself out without me having to consciously try at all. I am trying my best, at times I feel totally lost and confused and helpless and ready to completely give up. But something just keeps going – it always does. All I want to do is to trust that that part of me will never fade and never leave. And that is something I just hope, and I think I know somewhere inside, that only time will tell. Trust, in my eyes, can only grow with proof and evidence. So in a few years time, when I’m still here, I’m still me, I’m still okay, I’m living a life I am wanting to live, I am using my potential in whichever ways come, I am not crazy, I am loved, then will I trust that that fighting spirit and inner strength never dies. Until then I hope and I hold onto that inner bit of me that I think knows.
I hope you all can hold onto that inner trust and knowing too. Because, no matter how far away or deep within it or completely out of sight it can feel, it is there. I promise.