Through the Looking Glass

When I think back onto the time when I was the very most myself it was when I was 6. Six years old is when I relate to me life the very most. When I need clarity I identify with who I knew I was then more than at any other time in my life. I hope that very soon I will be able to look at my 30's as the time when I became who I've always been inside. I feel it coming, but I'm not quite there and that's scary. And painful. And just horribly unfair. Unfair to myself, to Seth, to well, everyone really. What could I have done if I had just realized I wasn't actually living my life as myself, as opposed to a shell of what I had allowed myself to be formed into?

It's important for me to state right now that I am happy, and well. More than I ever have been, and it's not passing or fleeting or the result or reaction to the surroundings of my life, but rather that I am well because I am fighting to be well. It's a much easier fight than I ever imagined that it would be, but still it's a fight.

When I was six, I'm pretty sure that I was still a bit quite and shy when it came to those I didn't know, but once that bridge was built I was just me. I was confident and assured. I was happy and fun, and I didn't realize or care about things life like having spinal meningitis because life was happening in front of me and life was exciting and good. I wanted to learn and know and understand everything. I was a strong kid who just didn't worry too much about anything. That is the person that I was, that I want to be, and that I am coming to be again.

But this is who I am now. I am strong and I am a fighter, and I know what I can do and what I am good at. But, I'm broken. I'm scared. I don't trust. I don't sleep well at night because I am tormented by dreams of harm being done either to myself or those I love. I worry about everything. I was defined by success and status because it was measurable and that was reassuring to my empty heart. And now, there is a pain in my heart and in my soul that was placed there not by myself. It is unneeded, unnecessary, unwanted, and unyielding in it's persistence. It creeps up when I'm not looking and it sits there beside me begging to be given attention. The one thing that I have learned through the last year is that emotions are not logical. If you try to logically control them they will not "go away". The sit there getting louder and more persistent until finally you can no longer "ignore" them without them impacting those in your life as well as yourself. So I find myself being able to logically look at my life, not wanting to deal with things that are not welcome, and feeling discouraged by having to accept that I must stop and find out what it is that I need to finally let go of the pain. How do you give pain a voice when your life is full of goodness? I know that for once in my life I am in an entirely safe place to voice my pain. I am so thankful for this wonderful man who helps me to be safe and to have a sounding board for the pain that is not his or his making. What I wouldn't give to spare him this, and what I wouldn't do to thank him for his kindness and love. And where would I be without my sister, and Alissa, and all the wonderful yous that are the sounding boards that minimize the pain and let it quite down and go away.

My life is beautiful and good and full of so much love and I hate that can't just grasp it with my whole soul and live in it in every moment, but that there are very real things and trauma that have brought me to pain. Pain sucks.

But it's not a life sentence. I will be Me.