For the most part I’m pretty upbeat.
I like to focus on the good things, hold on to the hope I can find for the future, stay busy creating and being productive.
That doesn’t mean life is always good or easy, but I like to try to push my way through because nothing lasts and sometimes I feel like I just need to get through the moment and reach the next so I can breath again.
Breath through the trauma.
I do not like to compare trials with anyone. That’s not fair.
Yes, some people’s lives look easy, because ok, they probably are. BUT that doesn’t mean they are flying through life on a cloud of bliss and ease. We all have our trials – and I’m sure lack of trials is a trial in itself, and to be honest, not one I would want. (alright, you caught me. I totally do compare trials. but only the “no trials trials” 😉 .)
Anyway… whatever my life looks like to anyone else, for me, I have been through hell and back. And it gives me a lot of empathy for others who have experienced some things at a much more intense level than me (usually here’s where people say, “So many people have it so much worse that me” but that’s not being kind to yourself to dismiss your own hardships. It’s good to honestly evaluate what your experiences are and how they affect you. Because you matter. And if something is hard for you, that matters. Don’t ever let anyone tell you that it doesn’t.). Because really, we all process things differently, so what’s hard for me, might be easy for someone else, or what’s easy for me, might be hard for another.
That’s enough for a disclosure.
I went through a lot of things as a kid that have deeply affected my entire life. I learned recently how trauma is stored in the cells of our body. Do you get that?! It’s crazy! The cells of our body store the traumas and emotions that we don’t face, deal with and heal from. And we walk around with that in our cells every. single. day. No wonder we get so sick!
When our trauma is triggered, our body reacts and goes into fight or flight mode. Our instinctive tendency is to withdraw and turn inward. This is not something we choose to do consciously – it is our body reacting. We can’t help it.
When I started going to therapy, my trauma bonding and trauma association were basically a perfect score. Which meant that everything that happens around me – whether it’s trauma or not – I look at it from a trauma state. I was constantly living in a trauma state. Flight, fight, or freeze almost all the time. It sucks. It’s exhausting. It’s hard.
I’m relieved to say that I have worked through a lot of that, and I do believe and feel like I’m doing much better… I have finally in the first time in my life found peace and calm inside of me. That inner storm has settled, and I feel a sense of safety.
There have been times in my past where I felt good and safe and whole.
But the last decade and more I have constantly lived in a state of trauma, constantly being triggered, never feeling safe. and I’m tired… I’m ready to be done with this and move on.
But you can’t heal in the place where you are being triggered or hurt. Something has to change. And fortunately, something will change.
I pray that I can be ready for what the future holds.
I pray that I can be ready to take those steps that are right outside the door. Time is knocking and pretty soon I’m going to have to answer it and I won’t be able to hide from it any more.
So anyway… the point of my post is this: sometimes we keep pushing through life, the muck and the mire, and we slow down for the good times and sunshine.
Then sometimes as we struggle and move, the sadness settles in like a deep fog on a dark night, and we’re left to hunker down and feel it as it envelopes us and seeps into our very souls.
The sadness of what is.
The sadness of what will never be.
The sadness of what will be.
The sadness of reality.
It’s different than depression. It’s different than hopelessness. It’s like a reality check that reminds us that it’s not good to live in a made-up state of denial, ignorance, or self-made bliss.
Tonight as we ended our trip to the pool, Ela was exhausted and was throwing a never ending tantrum about wanting to take off her life jacket in the water. Tommy had had his own struggles earlier in the trip, and it was not the usual fun outing that we have when we go swimming.
I wouldn’t say it was hard or overwhelming, but something about it made me sad.
It reminded me that things are going to change in big ways. And that I have 6 children who look up to me to make them feel safe, who need to know that I see them, that I hear them, that I accept and love them deeply and completely.
I want to do that. I strive to do that every day. And I honestly believe that when things change and we are able to move away, that it will be so much easier to show up for them when I can be away from my own painful situation.
But a part of me is sad. Sad that life wasn’t different. That it wasn’t better. That we haven’t had the abundant goodness that life has to offer.
Though I’m so forever grateful for the kindness and love I have been given through friends – especially recently, which opens my eyes to the contrast of the past I’m leaving behind vs the kindness (and goodness and love) I can find all around me moving forward.
I had forgotten it was even there.
I think that’s the way I would define the sadness I feel:
“the forgetting of kindness”
It kind of feels like the whole world is blanketed in this kind of sadness right now.
Have we all lived so long without the sweet nectar of kindness gracing our lives that we’ve forgotten the beauty and fullness that simple pure kindness can provide?!
My take away tonight:
I want to give more kindness. I want to give my kindness so freely and completely to anyone and everyone.
Typing that out makes my sadness even stronger. But maybe that’s the way to heal… to awaken the sadness in all of us which actually reminds us once again of the kindness we’ve been living without.
…that perhaps everyone will be awakened to the memory of kindness.
Oh sweet sorrowful sadness.
Thank you for being in my life and helping me to recognize what I have unknowingly been longing to see for so long.