There is a series of drawings that I’ve had in mind for probably near a decade. I never even attempted starting one because I would need to use colored pencils. I’d never use colored pencils. I decided to do a couple of practice drawings and see how it went. I’m hard on myself but I’d say, overall, they were a success.
Why is it so hard for me to hold a boundary?
Why am I always willing to see the others point of view? Hold it in priority over my own?
Why am I always insisting that I matter and then turning around and acting as if I don’t exist?
What do you do when you are stuck? When you are, as the proverbia expression goes, between a rock and a hard place?
Maybe it’s more of a chicken and egg thing? I don’t know. If our former decisions cause our current reality but our decisions have been made of wounds that can’t heal without a new reality, what then? How do we change?
If you are so sick that you can’t heal without help but the only help available to you is also harmful to you, what do you do?
If healing requires being in a safe environment, free from trauma but you aren’t physically capable of living on your own until you heal and the environment you are currently in and the only other option you can see are filled with trauma, what then?
I do not want this blog to be a negative space and I appologize for it being so thus far. I would like this to be a place of hope but I’m really struggling right now. This space is currently a reflection of that.
I’m not meaning to come across as hopeless because I’m truth I’m not. I have faith and hope but the truth also holds a lot of darkness. I don’t believe we are served by trying to stay only in the light when there are shadows that are need of exploration. I think it’s necessary to explore these shadows publicly. How else do we create awareness? How else do create change?
Please bare with me while I struggle.
Last night I went to the ER.
I’ve been having chest pain since covid, it got worse with a few accompanying symptoms that made me think it would be best to get checked. I’m fine. I don’t want to talk about that now.
What I do want to talk about is trauma. No, not really, more just the impact.
My son woke up when I was getting ready to leave in the ambulance. He clung to me and cried. He didn’t want me to and was obviously scared. I hugged him and told him that I was ok but I don’t feel very well and the doctor needed to look at me but if be back soon. He cried. He clung. I had a hard time letting him go. I think having to pry him off of me and give him to my mom while he was in so much distress hurt my chest more then the pain I was having.
In the ambulance the EMT asked about my son… His name, age, if he’s my only child…. And then he said “he sure is spoiled isn’t he”.
I was taken completely off guard but it felt like a kick to the chest. I wanted to say, “no, he’s not. He’s three and was woken in the middle of the night to his mom leaving in an ambulance. He’s scared and rightfully so you. Have a little compassion, asshole”.
Do you know how I actually responded? A polite laugh, suggesting that he was right, my son is spoiled.
What does that have to do with trauma? My relationships, starting at birth have taught me that it’s best to be polite when confronted with negativity. It’s how you stay safe.
There have been times I’m my life where I have had other reactions, some also from trauma and some more authentic but right now … I have become so conditioned to be in fear that I sold my son out.
Fuck that. The more I become aware of just how often I fawn, the more motivated I become to heal. For myself. For my son. For everyone.
I lean in
