When I reflect on my life in times of crisis, I wonder was happening inside of me that I could not find a way to change.
I realize I’m a stubborn person; I always have been. I'm also impulsive, preferring to jump in head-first and worry later about what would happen. My mom used to say, “from the time you were two-years old, I knew you were going to go your own way.” I wasn’t sure what that meant at the time, but it always felt like an exasperated insult. As if since I was going my own way, I was somehow less worthy. It was implied, but also spoken more than once, that since I would not or could not conform to what others were doing, it was wrong. If it was wrong to be myself, then something was wrong with me.
My feelings and thoughts didn’t seem to matter. Being constantly compared to everyone around me made me feel small and insignificant. I was not allowed to express my feelings, but if I did, it would be met with contempt or worse, silence and dismissal. Impulsivity made my life more difficult; there is no doubt. Stubbornness kept me there. It kept me from admitting I was wrong thousands of times. In my career, it kept me from admitting my fault in the situation and working towards better resolutions with those around me. In relationships, it was easier to play the blame game rather than to look inward at what I needed to change in myself. I dug my heels in, determined to not only be right, but to give detailed explanations of why I felt I was right. I closed my ears when others talked, waiting and formulating my response instead of really listening and absorbing what others were saying. I was, what I call a “right- fighter”.
I grew up in a middle-class family. Middle child. Middle America. I never felt like there was anything remarkable about me. I never really stopped to think about it much, either. I was just trying to live. Through circumstances in my life, choices others made for me when I was young (and choices I made for myself later), I sadly didn’t have a clue who I was. So much focus and energy was needed to survive, it was all I could do most days. I just hoped and prayed that the next day would bring some sort of epiphany about why I was the way I was, and most importantly, how I could magically change it.
Did you have any alcohol or drugs? Oh yeah, I would be there. If you were a boy or man that wanted to pay attention to me, I'd do most anything you wanted. Pills for anxiety and depression and insomnia? Yes, please! Something pretty and shiny to buy, even if I couldn’t afford it? Let me grab my wallet. What about something delicious to eat? Yessss. Give me enough so that I am so full I can’t move! Then when I make room, give me some more. Anything to kill the pain. Anything to fill that hole. When it didn’t work anymore, I ran to the next fix.
The depression became exhausting. The anxiety was crippling. There were times in my life when I felt absolutely paralyzed with fear. I would sit in my bed, or on a chair, at my desk or in the car and wonder how I was ever going to get myself to move. I would tell myself to just swing my leg out. I would scream at myself in my head, “JUST DO IT. What is wrong with you!?” Sometimes I succeeded to move. Many times. Many times, I didn’t. Each time I didn’t, I logged that in my head and told myself what a failure I was. I compared myself to others. Hating myself every minute I couldn’t do what they did, or look the way they looked, act the way they were able to, or have what they had.
There are many “reasons” for my actions. Yes, I have had traumas and disappointments; more than some, not as many as others. I have been diagnosed with cyclic depression and anxiety. I have been to more therapists and psychiatrists and have been on more medications than I can recall the names. I just needed to get through the day, whatever it took.
If you have been a victim, you are not alone. You are among a large percentage of the population who have experienced serious traumas in their life. Perhaps you were abused (verbally, emotionally, sexually or physically), suffered from discrimination due to the color of your skin, or religious beliefs, your appearance, sexual preferences, age...the list is long. I personally don’t know anyone who has not been traumatized in some way. Whether it was during childhood, the dreaded teen-years, or as an adult, I now believe as adults, we can choose to be in control of our own destiny. I realize we can’t control everything, but I do believe we can control our actions; and our reactions to the actions of others.
Today, I’m trying not to drag myself down with what I should have done, could have done, or what I would have done “if” the circumstances were different. It has been a long road to get to where I am, and I am not where I want to be - yet. Changing perspective is difficult stuff, but now I believe it can be a transformative process and that it is possible. I hear that damning voice every day, but I’m a little less likely to beat myself up about what I haven’t accomplished. Each time I am able to flip the script on myself is a big win for me.
I am trying to learn to quiet that dark voice in my head. Maybe it will go away entirely someday. Until then, every day, I stick that leg out and tell myself I can. Every time I succeed, I find I am closer to my peace. Every day, I choose to live with an open heart. To listen and give grace to others that I was not able to give to myself or wasn't able to receive from others. What you are reading is part of my therapy. Maybe we can learn something from one another.
Have you found your way to your best life or are you just surviving? Did you find journaling helpful in the process or was there something else that helped you?
I'd love to hear from you; please drop your comments below!
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