My last therapist abandoned me, both physically and emotionally. She had a death in the family and understandably took some time off. At first she said it would be for three weeks. The next email stated she needed three more. It was a bit of a shock, but I figured if I had kept myself alive for the past three weeks, then perhaps I could do it again. What got me through the temporary loss of support was hope. I know from experience that grief has no time line, and however she needed to cope was necessary for her at the time.
When I am around people I don’t know well or strangers, I feel translucent. It’s as if they don’t see me; what I am wearing or what I look like. I feel like my tanned skin becomes like a glass window, through which anyone can see. If they do stop to glance inside, they don’t see muscle and bone, but instead, see my truths. It’s like a movie of my life is constantly running for everyone to watch and no matter how hard I try I cannot close the curtains.
Insecurity is a bitch, rearing its ugly head at the most inopportune moments. For me, it attacks in the moment, every moment; anywhere, anytime. It does not giving me a minute’s rest. Insecurity does not walk alone. It is best friends with the prevalent negative voice that replays in your head over and over. One feeds off the other.
At what point in our lives did we become so self-critical. Do we learn self-criticism or is it inherent? Why are we so hard on ourselves and so much easier on others? Did we make some huge mistake we have never gotten over? Is it something our mothers once said we should be able to do, or our fathers wanted us to achieve? They didn’t know their words and expectations would stick to our hearts like glue, haunt our souls, and make our heads spin with an image of ourselves we cannot accept.
We are a society that thrives off of adversity, and pointing out these characteristics often starts in early childhood when we begin to highlight the negatives…
Grief; the one and perhaps only word that can conjure more emotions than the word love. It is near impossible to describe. It’s like a tsunami of emotions that suddenly overwhelm you to a point you didn’t know you could reach. Your mind is caught in the eye of the storm, spinning out of control. It’s a physical pain that encompasses your whole being, tightening every muscle in your body while sucking the air out of your lungs; even breathing becomes painful. The tears stream down your face uncontrollably and your heart physically hurts. Grief involves a major loss of something we are attached to. It is not limited to death. There is often grief involved with the loss of a relationship, a home, job, or a friendship.
I started out wanting to write a letter to my inner child; a letter to the frightened and traumatized little girl I was. I planned to write it in a tone that I would speak to a young child when it suddenly dawned on me that my inner child is more like an inner mini-adult. My trauma started as an infant, and I truly feel I have never fully felt that sense of innocence that is the marvel of childhood. I have watched my best friend’s son grow from an infant to now, being 12, and the wonder, innocence, and excitement in his very being as he discovered the world. It was not only a delight to see but an awakening of sorts for me. Through his eyes, the sights, scents, and sounds were all so innocent and full of awe and adventure. How refreshing it was to see the discovery of life with a fresh, unbiased view. For me, the sights were a bit darker, the scents not so fresh, and the sounds a lot more frightening.