Wow. I've heard that if you can describe a problem, you can probably solve it. If that's the case, then the solution is nigh, because you described the shit out that problem, in the most engaging, descriptive, horrifying yet wittingly way. You're right: you do got this.
Just, wow. That was such an eloquent, insightful, beautifully complicated description of the trauma that pulled you away from yourself and the path toward feeling safe enough to come home to yourself again. Your use of breaking the hand and the dial was so vastly empowering as someone who has experienced abuse at the hands of my ex husband. An experience I am 3 years out of but still responding to seemingly benign situations with a trauma response. Just Saturday, I experienced a trauma response. From which I am still recovering. Mostly because I keep telling myself how much I don't want this. Telling myself how I didn't ask for any of this. And yet, here I find myself reeling for days afterward. Trying to convince myself that I am safe, that I am okay. My mind can get there. My body believes none of it. My body braces for impact to this day. It's an unlearning, a coming back to myself, that is not linear. I go back during times like this, I chew on what was, and eventually I find my way back to me. Your post, your breaking of the hand and dial, brought me to tears. That is a fierceness I can channel often enough, but have not been able to do this week.
You being able to not only write, but WRITE and get lost in the world you built, is magic. I can't wait to read it! Writing, for me, has been a series of guideposts. It's not ever a clear indicator of where I am at the time but a glaringly obvious description of where I was when I line those guideposts with the map of where I've been. I am 10k words deep into a book I started writing when I wasn't sure I was going to make it out 3 years ago. It calls me back a lot, but I have so much trouble answering that call. One day I will. But for right now, I deeply thank you for your words, your honesty, this letter. We are not alone, but lined up alongside so many others who are working to de-code, unlearn, come home to ourselves.
Oh wow Lani. This is mesmerising, the boiling frog, the curling cat, oh it takes me back to my childhood. But then there you are with your baseball bat and your therapist at your back and your strength fills my heart, a warrior seeking the dark so they can cease its hold. Your strength gives me strength. I know you can win this fight.
Oh, baby... how my heart aches for you and yet I'm cheering for you, too. You can do this and whatever time it takes, it will be worth it because you will come out of the writing, stronger, better, happier and there will be a book! Delighted you have your beloved with you and I hope you find a great therapist who will listen well. <<Hugs>>
Wow. I've heard that if you can describe a problem, you can probably solve it. If that's the case, then the solution is nigh, because you described the shit out that problem, in the most engaging, descriptive, horrifying yet wittingly way. You're right: you do got this.
Just, wow. That was such an eloquent, insightful, beautifully complicated description of the trauma that pulled you away from yourself and the path toward feeling safe enough to come home to yourself again. Your use of breaking the hand and the dial was so vastly empowering as someone who has experienced abuse at the hands of my ex husband. An experience I am 3 years out of but still responding to seemingly benign situations with a trauma response. Just Saturday, I experienced a trauma response. From which I am still recovering. Mostly because I keep telling myself how much I don't want this. Telling myself how I didn't ask for any of this. And yet, here I find myself reeling for days afterward. Trying to convince myself that I am safe, that I am okay. My mind can get there. My body believes none of it. My body braces for impact to this day. It's an unlearning, a coming back to myself, that is not linear. I go back during times like this, I chew on what was, and eventually I find my way back to me. Your post, your breaking of the hand and dial, brought me to tears. That is a fierceness I can channel often enough, but have not been able to do this week.
You being able to not only write, but WRITE and get lost in the world you built, is magic. I can't wait to read it! Writing, for me, has been a series of guideposts. It's not ever a clear indicator of where I am at the time but a glaringly obvious description of where I was when I line those guideposts with the map of where I've been. I am 10k words deep into a book I started writing when I wasn't sure I was going to make it out 3 years ago. It calls me back a lot, but I have so much trouble answering that call. One day I will. But for right now, I deeply thank you for your words, your honesty, this letter. We are not alone, but lined up alongside so many others who are working to de-code, unlearn, come home to ourselves.
Oh wow Lani. This is mesmerising, the boiling frog, the curling cat, oh it takes me back to my childhood. But then there you are with your baseball bat and your therapist at your back and your strength fills my heart, a warrior seeking the dark so they can cease its hold. Your strength gives me strength. I know you can win this fight.
Oh, baby... how my heart aches for you and yet I'm cheering for you, too. You can do this and whatever time it takes, it will be worth it because you will come out of the writing, stronger, better, happier and there will be a book! Delighted you have your beloved with you and I hope you find a great therapist who will listen well. <<Hugs>>
Lani, I'm so sorry you had to deal with the VBM. I applaud you for your strength and honesty, and for making it to the other side. ❤️
I read this while nodding my head repeatedly in recognition and understanding. I look forward to reading the book someday.