I wrote quite a few posts at the beginning of the messiness that is this blog.
It was before my surgery, and I was going through a lot personally. Honestly, I still am, but that’s for a different day.
Anyway, I noticed I took so much of the blame on myself then.
I thought because my condition was taking over my life, it was the guilt that made me think it was all my fault, and I deserved to be left.
Today, a realization came.
I’ve been afraid to admit much because I don’t want to be a victim. It takes from the strength I’ve gained…the strength I’ve always had that is now holding me up.
But I thought about things.
I’m not trying to compare what I’ve done for others, but it goes to the moment I stopped doing for others; not doing as they needed because I just physically or mentally couldn’t. I just couldn’t.
People may not understand. They couldn’t feel the pressure my body was under every day. The fact that they couldn’t pronounce my condition told me how little they looked into what was wrong with me; how little they cared to just get the basics.
I wasn’t safe. I didn’t feel safe enough to ask or share the depth of my issues and ask for help.
Okay, one day, I caved and started to share in the parking lot before an MRI, and I was hit with a very uncaring reaction, but I digress.
In my reflection, I realized part of my new walls came from the rush from others to get over my miscarriages and ignore my pain from my injury, get another surgery I didn’t want, all to keep money coming in.
As an adult, you start to see the things that you dealt with (or didn’t actually deal with) as a kid for what they actually were because you didn’t know better. Kids just being kids. I shared an experience that bubbled up from my childhood that was so confusing and became emotionally trying, and there was no care.
And then my world spun out, and I needed brain surgery.
Those I thought to count on didn’t seem to have compassion for what my body was going through. Parts of my body just didn’t work and I felt gross in every kind of way, but I was expected to be a certain way.
I get it. I’m supposed to carry the world for everyone. I’m supposed to allow everyone to deal as they want, but I needed to be a robot working as programmed to appease others.
Trying to push through it…
Now, if I’ve learned anything during this journey, you can fake your healing; you can hide and bury your pain, but it’s all going to come out in one form or another.
And we can put the blame on ourselves for being sick, or we can blame others for not being there.
We can play victim; we can be the villain. Maybe we are…the victim and the villain.
What others think about us is never really about us. It’s what they perceive us to be based on what they are going through: the lenses they are wearing at the time.
You can’t be the person they want you to be because that version can change as often as their view on life.
Hello, mid-life crisis.
The only thing we can truly care about is how we feel about ourselves. And before we can do that, we need to heal our own darkness.
Our own traumas.
The hurt hurted by other hurt people 😬
Ooph that hurt 😆
The real healing can begin when you accept that others’ opinions don’t matter because it don’t have anything to do with you.
And what what we think of ourselves needs cleaned up from all those scaly people we let make us.
That we let build into our foundations.
And somehow, this still doesn’t seem to explain it enough.
Not everyone one is meant to continue on our journey. Not everyone is meant to be on our boat.
There’s no sense in filling our days full of hate.
Life is all about the energy we put out there.
My precious beauties with beasts in them,