Day 28. Freewriting.
Love is the strongest emotion I possess. Sometimes I think that anger is my go-to but every day I’m reminded that I’m just fooling myself and it’s actually LOVE. Love is my go to. Some people say that anger is the absence of love but I think that anger is actually hurt in disguise. When strong people are not allowed to show weakness, anger is the cousin to hurt. It’s stronger than hurt… it’s just all noise, to be honest.
I spent some time re-reading my freewriting from throughout the month. Some of my rambles made me cry and others made me feel empowered. I was actually surprised at the strength of my voice and indifference to how it’s being received. They say that communication has 2 sides, what is being said and what is being understood. My career is built on suppressing how I felt and only conveying thoughts and ideas to appease other people. Sad but true. I’m only human and I slipped a few times… but thinking about those slip-ups, it was because of a comment that attacked something near and dear to my heart. The family has always been a soft spot. Anyone who is anyone that knows a minute of my history knows there are certain safe things to ask about (my mommabear) and then there are triggers (father, brother, extended family). I feel obligated to play nice but every single time I do, I could literally feel part of my soul being crushed. So it’s a hot/cold thing and I’m not sure when I’ll ever really come to terms with it. To be honest, I dragged my feet for nearly a year to slowly mentally [and emotionally] prepare to come home.
Home is a relative term. What is home? Is it a physical place or is it people? I go back and forth.
Home is the friends that allow me to let my guard down. Home is where I’m embraced with hugs that feel safe. Home is the smell of a warm kitchen making meatloaf. Home is where people know when to do something out of the norm to bring a smile to my face… especially when they know that doing something abnormal is what makes me feel most normal. This is home. The square pegs in the round hole.
It was NOT easy for me to get on that plane to come back to what society considers home. The physical home. “Home”
Society definition of home is where I’m told that I’m imperfect. I’m told that I have aggression issues. Society’s home is where I feel completely incapable of accomplishing the simplest of tasks and I question my ability to love. I also question my ability to be loved. It’s never a good thing to question one’s value added to the world. Sometimes I think that I’m a super achiever because it counters all the judgments that I’m regularly subjected to when I’m ‘home’. When the tears of compounded hurt fall, I’m called bipolar. When I set boundaries – things have to be positive and supportive, I’m called controlling and dramatic. When I abide by society’s definition of ‘home’ that’s when I feel absolutely broken. I cannot tell the difference between having a broken heart and being broken… completely broken.
“Reckless girl who forgot how beautiful she was…” – movie line from ‘Love the Coopers’
Everyone has their soft moments. I have more than I ever let on. If I had to give things in numbers, I’d say that 70% of my life is with smiles and pure joy. 30% is fear/hurt/unresolved emotions… Easy[ish] to squeeze that down to 10% by being an overachiever. That last 10% is a monster though. It takes a LOT of work to reduce that 10% to 9….8…7…6…5…4…3. I don’t think that it’s possible to remove all softness. I think that I like to keep some around as a fire in my heart. It’s the fear that forces me to action, most of the time.
But this morning, I have love on my mind. And with love…some of my shadows surface. I’m thankful for the shadows. Without the shadows, I wouldn’t fully appreciate my softness, in its full beauty.
My heart is my superpower. I’m so blessed to have such a strong heart. I’m finally feeling like myself… only took 3 weeks. Right on schedule. I hate that I’m so predictable…
#WhyIWrite #MentalWellness #MentalHealth #SelfImprovement #Love #JourneyToPeace