I don't cry

I don't cry. Or I should say I hate to cry. And the worst of all for me is having anyone see me cry. If you saw me cry you saw me at my most broken as I could no longer hold it down the way I skillfully do. My never cry policy isn't working for me these days. In the past months I've sobbed regularly, and people saw me cry. So many people. The shame of it is overwhelming at times.

I've also wiped tears right in front of you and you never knew.

Now do I have an issue with you crying? Not at all. I care. I want to help. But for me to cry, in front of you, is truly the lowest I can feel. I was asking myself if I saw it as weak, as I did for some time, but it's not that anymore. I see it as a moment for you to see my weakness and that makes me fearful that it will be used against me. It's not logical. I do know and believe that if one of my friends saw me cry they wouldn't think less of me. Yet I think less of me.

I've had some spectacularly embarrassing cries recently. Not a broken a bone or somebody died cry, as those are allowed. One of those cries of extreme vulnerability and insecurity with a big ass spotlight showing every scar. The kind of cry you witness where you feel pity for the person but thank all the Gods you aren't them either. 

Shame is a theme here. It's that feeling that you are the only one, no one else is feeling this, and you should feel awful that you do and can't stop. But "we heal loudly so others don't die in silence". This is why I share my most painful secrets. I believe that saying it out loud is the key to getting to the other side. I know I'm not the only one. Maybe one day we can cry together, and the shame will go away.

Don't Blink

Life has been dark lately. Without wanting to say the words that will trigger and upset, I've been spiraling downward without sight of any light. There is so much shame associated with not being OK mentally. We're given cute little sayings of what we're supposed to do; "you just gotta....". I've said for ages that I could make a zillion dollars if someone would just show me how to "just gotta...". When someone is drowning like this it's not that they don't see the truth, it's that they don't have the ability to pull out of going down the hole. 

When someone hasn't experienced this they get annoyed quickly when you don't just snap out of it. They feel you aren't trying. That you enjoy being a victim. The way I like to explain it is if I'm about to poke my finger in your eye and keep saying "don't blink". You blink. I say again while nearly poking you "I said not to blink. Why are you blinking? All you have to do is not blink!" It's instinctive. We are likely trying more than you could ever conceive.

I know I'm incredibly privileged. I have many things to be thankful for. Yet as the Moving Pictures song said, "I guess I'm lucky, I smile a lot, but sometimes I wish for more than I've got". I suppose we all do. Yet when you are tumbling into darkness all the good doesn't matter. What isn't working for you, what you aspire to and don't get, what you long for that never happens, these things are all illuminated to the point of blinding you to all else. 

I haven't been able to see lately.

I've struggled with this for as long as I can remember. 30+ years of therapy, life coaches, self-help books, affirmations, positive sayings, manifesting, drugs both medical and illegal, good vibes, magic....but it's not enough. The shame for these feelings is overwhelming as I have so many people in my life who deeply care about me, support me, and believe in me. So why isn't this enough for me?

Speaking as a therapist, which I'm not but I've had enough therapy, and did enough work that they should give me an honorary degree, I feel strongly that I've created decades of deep neural pathways that say life will never work out and when you hope it is always taken away from you. And I had the receipts to prove this was correct. The logic then is to create a new neural pathway that is the opposite of these things. Believe life will work out for you. Allow yourself hope.

Yet what do you do when you finally, with so much fear, take that risk and believe, only to have it obliterated before your eyes? How do you then believe there is any hope in trying again? Or at all?

This is not to say nothing is going right in my life. My creative ventures are soaring, I'm mostly healthy, I have community, I'm privileged beyond measure in so many ways. This adds to the desire to hide and not say what's going on because "You are so blessed and need to STFU." You're right and my feelings haven't changed.

I'm processing a lot right now. Most of this processing is from a relationship that broke my heart and forced me to go no contact with this person. I read an article last night saying this: No one talks about how "No Contact" can retraumatize people with anxious attachment. Everyone says, "Just cut them off. Go No Contact. Heal." But no one talks about what happens after. The panic. The urge to reach out - just to feel seen. The late-night texts you swore you wouldn't send. The shame when you check their socials - again. The voice in your head whispering "You weren't enough. That's why they left." Because when you've spent your life begging to feel chosen, silence doesn't feel like peace. It feels like rejection. It feels like abandonment - all over again."

Though I was the one that left, every word of this rings true. I know I'm holding on because to let this go means to take away all I ever had. The pain is overtaking me.

By all appearances it seems I'm wallowing in self-pity, and I'm wallowing for sure, but I'm still trying. The reset plan is in place. I've already failed twice, but I know I'm all I have and this is the only way to find some happiness and suck up this shit life. I'm resilient and have come back from so much worse. I wake up every morning crying but there is a small spark left trying to grow into a flame. 

I've bought an app that is backed by science to rewire the brain. 3 months. Stay tuned to see what happens... (picture of my initial assessment) 

No Safety Net

Old science said it took 21 days to create a new habit. Newer data shows it actually takes around 66 days. I was completely off on both of these dates and thought it was 30 days to get a new habit sealed in or break an old one. I need a reset. I've spent the last 11 months in a personal hell I didn't talk much about. Much of the pain I ran towards. Loss after loss took me out. It's been a long time since I've felt this beaten down but I'm wiping tears and reminding myself I don't have a back up plan, it's all on me, and there's no safety net.

Trying to reclaim my story and not fear my voice anymore. I spoke months ago about losing my voice, then attempted to write again. And after working, trying, and pushing, I lost it once again. I believed those that criticized me must be right, as these were people who at one time said they loved me, and they wouldn't purposefully hurt me. Yet they did.

I've given myself a 30 day challenge to write and post every single day, as a means to ignore the critics, both real and in my head, and say it. As much as I appear to be someone telling all, I hide so much as in my past hiding brought safety. If others didn't know then they couldn't hurt you with their remarks and opinions, likely about something they have never experienced but felt they had so much wisdom on. Yes, I'm bitter.  I have ideas, thoughts, and truths I want to talk about and I find I'm immobilized. Resetting. Forcing my way back to me. 

Last night I saw my old therapist playing in a band. I didn't initially recognize her as it was in such a different context that my brain wasn't putting the pieces together. I realized it was her but only told a few people as there are aspects to the therapy she does that would reveal more about me than I want to share at this time. When I saw her it reminded me of the hiding days. A time when I couldn't trust anyone, as I was Evangelical Christian, and any problems I had were to be prayed away. So I lived in shame and told no one. And the prayers didn't work.

"We heal loudly so others don't die in silence." 

I've been shamed, criticized, and cut down for sharing all that I do. I've been told I lean into being a victim. I've been told doing this is embarassing myself.

I've also been told I say things others have waited their entire life to hear but I was the first person to say it. I've been told that I've helped people get help, get into therapy, and speak out, because I didn't hide it. I've been told my voice is needed, and even if it's not, I need to do this.

It's certainly a delicate line between being openly vulnerable, telling the truth to heal, and feeling sorry for yourself. I walk that line like a tightrope artist. And there's no safety net.

8 Years and a 30th Anniversary

I know what I want to say but the words are failing me. Or I'm failing me. Today would have been my 30th wedding anniversary. The pain of the actual divorce is long past, he is engaged, and I'm genuinely happy for him. Yesterday was the 8-year anniversary buying my condo and living completely alone for the first time. Dates mean a lot to me; when I recall them, and when I forget them, it gives me information as to where my mind is at. 

In the 8 years since the divorce I've remembered my wedding date maybe 3 times. The 25th anniversary was brutal as I realized this was something I'll never experience. Others came and went without a trigger or notice. It was just days ago that I noticed the date was coming up and then realized it would have been 30 years. The kind of anniversary you have a party to celebrate the achievement, and everyone is impressed and asks you what your secret is. Again, something I will never experience.

To meet me today is to be unrecognizable to the woman who moved into this place 8 years ago. My growth game is strong. When I moved in I was terrified and found myself shaking under a thin blanket that didn't even cover my toes, on my couch as I had left the bed behind. It took me over a year to paint a wall as I was used to years of disagreeing on such things, and forgetting I was the only decision maker now. Where my growth game is weak is the relationships along the way.

When I first divorced, I didn't even consider dating. My only focus was to get out. I can't even count the number of first dates I went on. Most were boring and terrible. I look back at some of the people and wouldn't dream of attempting a conversation with them today. Only 2 made it to a level of us being called a couple and they both destroyed me in different ways. 

I've noticed a pattern where I go back to what is hurting me because there was something I loved, and I wanted one more moment even if it broke me more in the end. There is a part of me that will override the need for emotional safety, and plunge forward not caring about consequences. If I go deep and ask myself why that is, my first thought is because most of the time I feel hopeless. 

I feel somber and a little numb on what would have been my 30th wedding anniversary. Another birthday looming in the distance saying the clock is ticking and you're wasting time. Feeling a mix of anxiety, immobility, and sadness. 

I went back to my favorite lake to burn the memories in order to calm the screaming in my head. Being former Evangelical Christian I love a ritual, and burning things gives me a release that "just letting it go" won't quite reach. Watching items go up in flames forces me to sit with the feelings that I'd rather shove down. When I hold onto things I find I'm really trying to hold onto another person. It's an energetic connection that keeps me from fully releasing them. 

I knew this burn would be emotionally difficult, yet I was dead set that I wanted it to happen on the anniversary day, and a rainstorm was coming so that kept me from procrastinating. Speed walking to the lake I watched as the clouds were rolling in quickly. I expected I'd get soaked on the way home, but my only concern was to get the burn going before the downpour.

When I'd burned my wedding dress there were a lot of people around while I watched what was once my dream incinerate before me. This time what few people were nearby immediately dispersed as I came up to the fire pit. Though I'd torn everything up the night before, I felt nauseated as the memories came back looking at the pieces as I ignited them. Instead of sitting back crying as I'd done before, I stood with my hands on my hips looking down at the fire, determined to finally let it all go.  

The smoke got thick and was blowing away from me. This felt hopeful, like a breath from the universe saying I was seen and what I was doing was what was best for me. I contemplated staying until every bit was burned to ash, but decided it was OK to walk away and not care about the outcome.

Walking home there was a gentle breeze and I found my breathing had regulated and was flowing at an even pace. About halfway there the rain started to come, first light and then a downpour. The wind was blowing everything sideways and I could barely see from moisturizer and old eyeliner burning my eyes. It felt like a painful baptism; an outward expression of inner transformation. Yet would I finally be free?

My road has been long, and absolutely none of my childhood hopes and dreams have come true, but I will continue to prove everyone wrong with my tenacity and resilience. There is freedom in this.