Only as sick as the secrets we keep

December has not always been a peaceful month in my world. Yes, it’s my birthday but it’s also when people try to hurt me. It’s when my brother plays games to be seen. It’s when my father fails at managing his emotions. It’s when my mother has her dark days. December has been a perfect storm with fingers pointing at me.

I’ve been working extremely hard to shift how I feel about December. It’s a cloudy month when I’m not sure about most things. I tend to pull back from social events. I sneak into my shell. I shut out the world with intention to listen to my heart. If anything, so I can remind myself of it’s strong beat.

Last year, December was a month I celebrated my birthday three times. The actual day I was born and then the two times someone tried to kill me. Those days are now known as my rebirth days.

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This year, December was just December. It did not carry the same weight as last year. I made sure to have quiet time to stay connected with my emotions. Feel the feels. I’m a huge fan of distractions. Anything so I didn’t have to feel the heavy feelings. And the more I tucked those emotions to the deepest place of my soul, the more disharmony I experienced in my external world.

December is a month to honour myself. My wellness. My existence. I’ve released a bunch of tears. I’ve sat in silence. I’ve made some phenomenal food. I’ve hugged dogs. I’ve also hugged humans. My heart has been shattered – I’m not pointing fingers at anyone because my focus isn’t on the fault, rather, my focus is on the responsibility… to heal. And with healing… it’s acknowledging truth.

My truth is still difficult to digest. I love differently than my family. They gave me tools to use my voice and stand up for myself. They taught me to never settle for “less than”. They taught me that it doesn’t matter who is against me as long as I believe in myself. These rules applied to everyone outside the family… And so breaking cycles has been hard.

I continue to light a candle and ask the angels to look after my mother. I miss her very much. Sometimes, I think I’m getting in my own way and I should just hop on a train to visit. And then I remind myself trains go both ways. There is nothing stopping my family from visiting me. And allegedly, my housemate told my family where I live so… now they know. It’s a waiting game. My group fitness schedule has been posted online for a few months so in all honesty, it’s not difficult to find me.

I’ve been waiting for over 500 days. My phone doesn’t ring. My email box is still empty. My father might still be reading my blog. There was a time he verbalised he knows I’m ok because I continue to write. That is his truth. The last time my blog views spiked, I still went into survival mode. I disengaged from my normal posting to simply observe. I was vigilant to squeaky wheels. And then I stopped myself. There is nothing to fear. I’ve aired ALL MY DIRTY laundry on the internet. Sure, people might try to use my blog against me to prove “mental instability” but who cares. I’ve shared over a million words for my recovery journey. I’ve shared emotions, heavy emotions, as I came to terms that others wanted to end my life. I’ve shared my deepest and darkest fears with the world because I simply didn’t know who to trust.

Do I regret sharing the pain in my heart? Not.at.all.

If given the choice to do it all again, I would in a heartbeat. Why? Because we are only as sick as the secrets we keep. I have ZERO secrets.

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Today I fell into an old habit. Shopping therapy. I needed a 2020 diary and ended up with two pairs of shoes, a vest, workout shirts, socks and some caramel / nut candies. It’s December and I have a pimple on my face. It’s a sign of poor eating. Why? Sadness. And the fact I bought what i bought supports it. When mom and I shop, when undecided, just get both. I don’t need two pairs of shoes but… It’s December and tomorrow is New Year’s Eve. Every year with exception to 2014, whilst I lived in Asia, I was home during the last two weeks of December. Last week and this week are the weeks I would be sipping hot chocolate with my mother. Laughing with her. Playing in the snow. Cooking up a storm. Grocery shopping. Watching movies. And then bringing in the new year. I feel a great loss right now. I miss her.

Trains go both ways. I am living less than 40 miles from my mother. It’s been 500+ days. They have not caused trouble… does my heart hurt more with silence or with being treated as if my life doesn’t matter? Does it matter how they value me? I used to think it mattered but I’m coming to terms that it really doesn’t.

It’s taken me some time to clear out their noise and listen to my heart. My life is filled with love. As much as I would love to invite them into my world, I’m not sure they would accept the invitation. But does it matter?

Trains go both ways.

My journey continues…

Emotional Wellness Spot-check (August 2017)

 

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