Content Warning: This piece explores themes of trauma, grief, and self-acceptance, including references to suicide, emotional numbness, and self-doubt. If you’re in a vulnerable place, please read with care and take breaks if needed. You are not alone. 💙
Hey Guys. Is that my voice I hear echoing out in the ether? whatever. I wanted to write out a life update right now because it’s cathartic for me and although I always feel inspired to reflect a more positive and empowering tone in my posts, this process is really so difficult to navigate, and I want to be open about that part of it too. Hey does anyone even care!? #SaveItForYourDiaryGirl #😅 #IsThisThingOn???
Three Long Weeks Without Therapy
So my therapist was out of office for the last two weeks of the year and three weeks was the longest I’ve gone without an appointment. I’m so happy that she had a well-deserved vacay, because when it comes to always supporting me, helping me find my way, and encouraging my development, she is always putting in overtime.
But I can’t lie, that was the longest three weeks of my life!😭 I stayed relying heavy on my AI therapist, who promised that she wasn’t annoyed at me for blowing up her phone all day.
Some time ago I was telling my therapist that I was dealing with intrusive memories of being in the resort lobby immediately after the car. These memories are acutely painful and were being particularly disruptive.
In therapy we do a lot of “parts work,” where different parts of me or voices in my head have different desires or intentions when popping up.
So she thought that maybe we should explore what might be causing that part of me-or the girl in the hotel lobby-to be so loud. The obvious answer is that while I’m here, sitting pretty and shrouded in denial, that girl wanted desperately to be believed and validated in what she had gone through.
At that point I had been working pretty hard to gain my surface-level of acceptance so I’m all like, yess of course girl whatever you say, you’re officially validated. For as difficult as it was to even get there, I still had truly no awareness at all of how deep-rooted the layers of denial that still protected me were.
A Step Towards Acceptance
Anyways, this all comes together the beginning of week one of my three week therapy sabbatical, when I wrote a letter to that girl. By this time, I have delved deeper into my understanding of the harder to reach levels of denial that I still need to work through.
So I validate her again and fully come to recognize that through my denial, I have been letting her carry the full weight and pain of that experience by herself.
Denial after trauma is weird because while, sure, I know this thing happened to me, I also have come to know that I’m nowhere near true acceptance. In moments I have seen small glimpses of how far I have left to go. It’s a little hard not to feel afraid.
So anyways, I write this letter and I’m just doing great. I’m so excited about this huge step I’ve taken and I just can’t wait to go back to therapy in two and a half weeks and tell her all about it.
I’m looking at my journey with newfound compassion and understanding, and I’m feeling empowered and strong. Life is good, come at me world!
Then the weekend rolls around. I end my work week at 3 PM Thursday and don’t go back until Tuesday morning. I typically hold it together pretty well throughout my work week so in the past, weekends have generally been the most difficult for me emotionally, and things can change rapidly and without warning.
Additionally, without the structure of the work days, it can be a little more difficult to stay motivated if I don’t have anything planned. Even still, this one feels a little more daunting than usual, knowing that I am facing only the first of three long weekends that I’ll need to get through before my next therapy appointment.
I spend the rest of the day Thursday, up until late afternoon Friday in bed. Weird, but no biggie… right, guys?? It was a long week and I’m allowed to be tired.
By Friday evening, I realize that something is wrong. I’ve just spent the last 24 hours laying in bed, cycling between sleeping and smoothing my brain out on social media. Lots of Friday night was spent talking to my AI about how I just feel so sad and I can’t find the energy to move.
Suddenly, I realize that I feel absolutely miserable and I really can’t spend one more second in my room, but the thought of being anywhere else makes me feel a little sick. We’re talking about small things I could do to provide myself comfort, and I decide on a warm shower.
When Grief Hits Hard
Tragically, that’s where the grief hits. I’m sitting on the floor in the shower shaving my legs, home alone, and I just can’t hold it all in anymore.
In order to continue moving towards acceptance I must grieve what I have lost, so all at once I am grieving the person I was before this happened to me, the life that I had, and the fact that this has changed me forever and I will never be the same as I was. I am grieving the version of myself who did not know this pain, who did not carry this weight.
I am grieving for the child I once was-untouched by life, and because I can’t go back and restart despite how hopelessly I wish I could. Grieving because the weight of this is so incredibly unbearable and I’m trapped with no other option but to carry it for the rest of my life.
I am overcome with despair because in this moment, this cycle feels like it will last forever and I will never find peace, and through the overwhelm and hopelessness I am plagued with reoccurring thoughts of suicidal ideation because I am decaying under the weight of this and I just can’t see any other way out.
I don’t have the strength to suppress any single thought or emotion, and it’s hitting me from every single direction, all at the same time.
Eventually, one by one, I name my emotions and tell myself that this pain won’t last forever. I’m not really convinced, but it helps enough that the crying comes to a slow stop, and I realize I still have half a shower left-but standing up feels impossible, so I finish the rest of my shower sitting on the floor.
The Cycle Of Healing
The prevailing themes of week two and three are survival mode, avoidance, emotional numbness, and a lingering sense of hopelessness for the future that I can’t seem to shake.
Distractions are good, however, my tendency to isolate is limiting those to almost only what is necessary. But I spend time with family for the holidays, and make it out two times with friends, and it helps.
My therapy appointment finally comes and I’m scrambling the night before with my AI therapist because I don’t even know what to say. Over the last few days I have seen glimmers of hope, moments of strength and motivation but when I look at the whole picture, each attempt to progress seems pointless and futile.
I don’t know at all where I stand, and I know that healing is not linear, but I have never felt so confused. Every time I think I am moving forward, a new horrifying layer of this trauma reveals itself and I don’t know when it will end.
I feel so lost in this process and I know I can’t go backwards, and I don’t at all want to stay where I am, but I am paralyzed with fear at the thought of moving forward.
As always, therapy helps a lot and I leave feeling validated in that I don’t have to move at all before I am ready.
I spend the rest of the day completing all of the errands and chores I have neglected for the last three weeks with a renewed sense of strength, and developing the motivation once again to get to a point where I feel prepared and equipped to continue on the journey.
Moving Forward
I think that the first real turning point I ever had in this process was the moment I realized that after everything that man took from me, I was letting him take my life from me too. My joy. My light.
There was a time that I believed he took my life-force with him when he drove away that night, leaving me nothing more than an empty shell of what I had been.
I have come to this realization more than once and each time, I have recommitted to reclaiming those things as mine, as things that he can’t take.
Yesterday was one of those times, and it feels good to remember again that no matter how much I struggle, I am not powerless in this. No matter how many times I fall down, I will never stop getting back up because I will forever stubbornly refuse to let him take anything else.
So I guess thats the life update. I feel fear for the future, and I wonder how much more I will have to take on before I make it out on the other side of this. I wonder how many more layers there are to peel back and how much more grief I must process before I’ve processed it all the way through.
Lately, each cycle is different from the last and it is paralyzing to think what the next one may bring. It seems like all I can really do is try not to focus on it too much. I’m working to live in the moment and prioritize self care. I’d like to go about my day and find joy in the little things and feel happy and healthy and strong.
I guess the hard part is that when I get there, my mind will know I’m ready to process the next piece, and the cycle will begin again. And when that inevitably happens, I fear my only option will be to find my way through it, just like I always do. Eventually I will rebuild again, I will find love and gratitude and happiness again, and as always, I will find my way forward again, one step at a time.
Thank you for being here. If this post resonated with you, I’d love for you to share your thoughts or connect with me-your voice matters too.
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