"And you say I abandoned the ship
But I was going down with it
My white knuckle dying grip
Holding tight to your quiet resentment…
So how much sad did you think I had,
Did you think I had in me?
How much tragedy?
Just how low did you think I'd go?
Before I'd self-implode"
Taylor Swift, The Tortured Poets Department
It wouldn't be completely off base to say that I feel as though I've lost pieces of myself over the past few years. Perhaps the fact that I have not written in well over two years is a reflection of that. I read a quote once that said that those who aim to please leave pieces of themselves with every person who uses them. Those people work to make others full again by filling the empty spaces of others with pieces of themselves. This analogy often rings true for me. It often feels as though I have worked so hard to ensure others around me are safe, healthy, and taking care of, to my own detriment.
If you had asked me when I was younger what I wanted my life to look like, I would have answered without a second thought - job, husband, kids, perfect family. As women of the 80's, we are raised on these Disney-esque ideals that include the prince on the horse sweeping in at the last moment to save the day and whisking the princess off to happily ever after. There is no extra chapter that explains why happily ever after isn't always a reality. There is no epilogue that includes the potential for darkness. For me, as that little girl, there was never a question that those were the things that were going to make me happy. Those were the things that I wanted and needed.
And then… one day… I grew up. And I came to the sad, stark realization that all of those ideals were not always reality. I came to the harsh understanding that happily ever after does not always look how I expected it to. The things I thought I wanted and needed - the things that were supposed to bring me happiness - were tainted. They weren't the answer I thought I needed. This enlightenment about life came with it its own set of intrusive thoughts. And I often found myself full of self-deprecating ideas, blaming myself for where I ended up. I would like to consider myself a well-educated woman with solid ideals and sound decision making skills. But these personality traits and these decisions did not align. How could I not have known better? How could I have missed the signs? How could I knowingly put myself in those positions?
So began the downward spiral. The loss of myself was more of a tragedy than any tangible, physical loss. My ability to find myself in the midst of chaos seemed like an impossible task. All of the measures for which I defined myself were not what they should have been. I no longer had a clear understanding of who I was and who I was supposed to be. And as the darkness grew, so did my inability to trust myself and my own decisions. My instinct to second-guess myself, however, grew tenfold.
As I reflect on the past few years, and perhaps those even further back, I think about what I would have told myself… what do I wish I knew then that I know now? Granted, all of this is taken with a grain of salt, as I am as stubborn now as I was back then. And even still, my ability to take my own advice is an area which requires continued growth. Are there really truly things we can say to ourselves which are effective in getting through pain, trauma and adversity? At times I wonder if self-talk really is effective… Although it seems that we are all significantly better at talking negatively to ourselves than positively. For many reasons, one negative thought undoes 20 positives.
And yet, for whatever it's worth, I sit here, urging myself to be kinder to my previous self. I wish that I could give her the grace and patience I try so hard to afford others. When I was at one of my lowest points, my therapist told me to keep a picture of myself as a child close to me. She told me when I was having negative thoughts about myself, I should look at the picture say those things to that girl. The idea being that we would never say those things to children so why are we allowing ourselves to say that to another person, least of all ourselves? In hindsight what she should have said was carry around, a picture someone I loved. For me this never seem to work because I always hard on myself than anyone else in my life. And before you read this and think that I am trying to paint myself as a martyr, just know that it is way more difficult to be kind to yourself than others.
So yes, this is a letter to my past self to be kind. To be patient. To know that you can change your mind. To know that it is never too late to change your mind about what makes you happy. There is no formality in any decision regardless of how much it feels like there is. To know that life is not easy and will be full of difficult tasks. Not just hard tasks, but things that will feel like they will breaking your soul. There will be moments in life where everything seems incomprehensible and you cannot see the light at the end of the tunnel. I never understood the cliché statement that "everything will be okay in the end and if it's not okay, it's not the end". For someone in the thick of something, that statement is not even remotely helpful. That is like telling an angry person to calm down and thinking that statement alone will help them do that. But what I wish I told my past self was during those moments of pain, try not to lose all the pieces of yourself. Try to hold onto the string of whatever is good down in your core. And sometimes, the biggest tragedy is once that string has been severed, it is next to impossible to bring those pieces back.
And here I sit writing this, slowly rebuilding what I thought was lost with the help of the most important people in my life around me. A true testament that you do come out the other side. Not how you were perhaps how you're supposed to be. I suppose there is a reason they say diamonds only grow under heat and pressure.
This is life. Love, Mom
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