Until now I think the excitement of this journey and the ‘getting to know myself’ path that I’m on, has felt somewhat out of my hands as to whether I have a choice about it. In my eyes I didn’t. I was teetering towards the floor, I spent a whole summer swimming in serious suicidal ideation, I desperately grasped to therapy that winter and then in the springtime I overdosed. In my eyes this meant I had no choice but to unravel this stuff, heal this stuff, discover the hidden bubble-protected stuff, heal myself, give myself all the attention, devotion and love I have, and learn ways to find a shed load more of these three things, in unconditional supplies, that I didn’t know was there. This felt necessary for survival, it wasn’t just because I ‘felt like it’. My entire life was there before my eyes, blinding in a way that I didn’t think I could have looked anywhere else. But I could have. I could have stared vodka in the face every day and started my waking moments with a shot. I could have snorted crack til it came outta my eyeballs and numbed the pain. I could have done what a lotta people do. Okay maybe not the crack, but definitely the alcohol. I could have taken up the two last self destructive coping methods that I had never tried. But I didn’t. They were never an option for me or a decision that I needed to make, in my eyes, but I still did. I chose not to, no matter how subconscious this decision was.
The last six months a friend has often said to me that I have a choice and I made a choice and am constantly making that choice – the choice to follow this healing path. I have always looked at him as though that’s a load of total bollocks. I’m not. ‘I have no choice, you don’t know shit’, I have desperately want to reply, because the thought that I have CHOSEN this path just makes me want to vom. It makes me want to curl up with embarrassment at the thought that I decided to do this. I decided to put myself through hell when things felt shit enough.
But gradually something inside me has shifted and I am realising that this choice is the biggest gift I can give myself. Like, it’s the ultimate act of self love – to heal. And it’s mega exciting too. I’m getting to know ME! It hasn’t really clicked until today, but this is self discovery that I’m doing. That is fucking cool.
After realising this, the enthusiasm that has been there beneath this all, can blossom and shine even more. Until now I’ve struggled to not just feel demoralised by what I’m doing, and weirded out by how I have enthusiasm for it. I shouldn’t, should I? How lame is that. I’ve felt battered down at how relentless this healing game is. Resentment and a hatred has burned so strongly through the clouds of self care and self love, leaving me sunburnt in a way that turns pink instead of a beautiful bronzed brown.
But I think it’s because I’ve been seeing this time as healing. Just healing. Don’t get me wrong, this has also filled my heart with such warmth that tears flow and flow when I finally realise I’m getting the chance to heal. Something I’ve needed for about 23 years. (I’m only 26). But maybe I’m not just healing. Today I realised that I have been seeing this time as so focused on what’s happened in the past, that’s led me to this point. To be fair, that is totally legit because in that IS what’s led me here. But now I want to see this journey as also as self discovery too – getting to know myself inside out, regardless of the past stuff. The past is just an added
gazillion layer to sort through amongst this journey. I feel battered and bruised and torn when I just see it as overcoming my past and healing my past. Not to mention the “UNFAIRNESS” that rips me at the seams. But I’m healing my self, my whole Self now. And the parts within that are wounded from the past. The actual past can go fuck itself. I’m healing what’s here now because what’s here now sure is wounding from the past, but it isn’t actually the past. The past is done for. I’m left with my beautiful, battered, knackered, wise and wounded, beautiful self.
This might sound obvious but I’m getting to know myself. I’m doing what all those wise owls do. I have struggled to see why on earth I would spend all this focus on, and time with, myself when it’s just me. Plain old me. Why can’t someone else get to know me so well and I get to know them in return? Deal?
But I’m doing this for me, I’m not doing it for anyone else. And so noone else can do it for me. I’m so shiney and brilliant that right now I don’t want to share myself with anyone else. I want to dive deeper into me and keep on discovering all this territory that’s never been found. I want to walk bare foot on shores that have only ever been kicked up in a frenzy from some trauma before. I want to put on my stilettos (I need to buy a pair first) and strut through the corridors of my inner self, owning it all. I also wanna kick the fuck outta the shitty dark corners and put a bouncy castle there instead, but I don’t know if can afford one of those. Bouncy castles are costly.
Everything I’ve done before now has been for someone else – as a child, as a teen, as a young adult – but now this journey is my own. From day one I was born into responsibility and now, as of a year or so ago, I made the decision to have all this responsibility for just myself. My rucksack of responsibility is just mine. I kicked out the items that weren’t anymore (MY MOTHER). The weight of this rucksack is mine to get to know, sort through, sift through, buy better straps for, and gradually learn a better posture by which to carry it. And I’m getting there. But first I still seem to have a fuck load of sifting. I could just hand it over to the Goodwill stores here and get drunk and snort crack but I don’t think I want to, no matter how painful this sifting and posture learning is. It’s my sifting to do and it’s my posture to learn, just for me. For no one else. Anyone else I get to share this whole-of-me with, well…that’s just a bonus.
This journey of discovery is where I am grateful for my sense of fun and humour. I have been this entire year. All the drawing of cartoons, all the mindful and playful walks in nature, all the journalling and excitement about the revelations I have and realisations I’ve put together…but I realise, I don’t think I had really set my ‘intention’ until now. Like, inside I know I’ve been healing but its mostly felt like surviving. The last few weeks I’ve noticed a big old shift happen with this and I really KNOW that I am healing. In every way. It’s like my body knows it, my mind knows it, my soul knows it, and my heart knows it. And so because of this knowledge I can allow for it more and give myself the time and the trust. This in itself is a mega hit of mega dope beauty for me. And now, as of today, and probably as of this healing revelation/shift too, I now can see this time as exciting and a right of passage and a beautiful brilliant project I’ve decided to give myself. It’s like the ultimate home work, except the only test I get is the one I constantly give myself. Thank fuck because I hate normal tests.
I have always looked at people in awe when they just so clearly are on their path of self discovery and so dedicatedly and enthusiastically doing so. They’re the cool kids in my eyes. And I realise that, if I just set that as my intention (which it so blatantly has been this entire time, I just didn’t realise it), I can let myself feel like one of the cool kids too. Because I am. And so are you.