Will I ever be healed?

“healing comes in waves, and I'm allowed to feel every rise and every fall of my tide.” ~ Alexandra Elle

Will I ever be healed?  Or perhaps the question is really; will I ever not be broken?  At the end of yoga class today, lying on my mat, I started to cry.  I felt old trauma coming up, issues I've dealt with repeatedly over the years, yet at that moment they were as fresh as when they happened.  This occurs frequently when processing your past, especially a past with a shit ton of nightmares, but it comes in waves.  No two waves are the same in the ocean and it's the same for healing from memories that come back.  Yes, same old fucking issue but taken from a new vantage point, a place of greater strength, a more supportive time.  

I'm not the person I was when these painful instances happened.  I'm new daily.  I'm stronger than I've ever been and see nothing but power on my horizon.  Power over my future, power over my voice, power over who I surround myself with....yet power over the memories, that can bitch slap you out of nowhere, still feels impossible for me to escape.  I've done the therapy, I've done the hard work, but some things run so deep through my soul, truly the core of all I am, that I fear I'll never fully have freedom from the pain.

My yoga teacher spoke about fear in a pose and looking for the escape plan.  I can only feel so much before anxiety and agony overwhelm me and I run for some perceived safety.  On good days I go to yoga, meditate, call a friend, write and get outside a breath.  Good days.  But most days aren't good days.  I also online shop, waste hours on Facebook, drink too much wine, smoke too much weed and stuff myself with sugar.  Don't get worried, my shit is together.  I'm known far and wide for my high level of responsibility.  Yet looking out my window, alone, once I've taken care of the day's tasks, it all comes rushing back.  

As I've said before, I know my words heal.  I know my vulnerability, though truly so limited right now, is what someone needs.  I'm using my suffering for good.  But I'm so pissed.  I'm livid I have to do this.  In the 80's there was a popular song by Moving Pictures called "What about me?" and I felt it was my life's song.  Still do. 

And now I'm standing on the corner, all the world's gone home
Nobody's changed, nobody's been saved
And I'm feeling cold and alone
I guess I'm lucky, I smile a lot
But sometimes I wish for more than I've got

What about me? It isn't fair
I've had enough, now I want my share
Can't you see, I want to live
But you just take more than you give

What about me?
What about me?
What about....me

I feel like I need to put focus on accepting that some things aren't repairable.  Though I can cry the tears and face the world with a smile to mask the pain; some memories will always hurt.  I'm OK though.  Perhaps being broken actually helps weed out the weak people who can't handle adversity and struggle.  Either way....I'll go on.