It has been a big week. Actually, it’s been a big month, year, decade….
It took me a very long time to get to the point where I could take the step to begin to heal. It really is true what they say, you can’t help someone who isn’t ready to be helped, it took me a very long time to be ready. It took absolute mental and physical exhaustion for me to realise that I couldn’t live like I was anymore. That I couldn’t hide from the trauma I had buried in the dark recesses of my mind anymore. It took giving up to start me on the path of healing.
I have now accepted and can admit that I have been the victim of intense emotional abuse.
I didn’t realise it straight away and when I did I didn’t fight for myself. Eventually it overcame me and I gave in to it, becoming a mere shell of who I was before and losing my identity, my passions, my drive and my strength. If it wasn’t for my children I wouldn’t be here to tell this story now. I was constantly on high alert, worrying about every single thing that I did, or didn’t do, and whether it could result in being ignored, isolated or verbally abused. I felt alone, and my stress levels were debilitating. I lost my career, my friends and my ability to enjoy ANYTHING. I genuinely thought I was losing my mind and constantly apologised for things that I didn’t even do, in some cases I even apologised for things that never even happened at all.
It was after I had almost lost everything, when I was finally depleted to the point of having nothing left to give, that I asked for help. It took a whole new depth of rock bottom to agree to give psychology another try. I didn’t know for sure that I was ready to heal, but I knew I wanted to. I knew I needed to. I had thought I was ready in the past and it hadn’t worked, why should this be any different? But he knew. In the first session he knew I was ready and he was sure that he could help. But how did he know?
In every interaction I have had with psychologists, doctors, counsellors in the past, I have had one condition. I refused to look backward, I refused to heal things that were long pushed into archives inside my mind. The things that I had run away from so long ago were a no no. I didn’t see them as relevant and could not possibly see how bringing anything that old back up could do anything but more harm. I was clear that I would only work on the present and the future, and no one told me this was what was wrong. So I never healed at all in any of my previous attempts and nothing changed.
In my first session with my new psychologist, only 2 or so weeks ago. I told him that I would do anything, unwrap all of my secrets if I needed to, because I couldn’t live like I was anymore. I told him I would tell him everything and that I was ready to heal from all of it, if it meant I would one day feel human again.
And that is when he knew, that was the moment my healing journey began. The moment I accepted that I couldn’t pick and choose the pieces I wanted to heal from. It had to be all or it would be nothing. I have to open sort, process and discard ALL of the luggage I have been unwittingly carrying around to feel any relief. I have to face my deepest fears and my buried grief.
I have been carrying a pile of sticks around in on my back. Adding more and more over time until I forgot what colour the first ones were. And when i tried to remove just the last few that had made it to heavy to bear, i found that the full weight was still there. So im going to take them all down, one by one. And I know that this may make the pile unstable and difficult to manage at times. But no matter how much it may hurt me in the process, it is the only path out of this hole.
And so begins my healing journey.