I’m an over thinker. I’m also an over feeler. If both get me at the same time, the walls go up and I become cold as ice. As a result, I teeter between being empathetic and compassionate, and frustrated and cranky. After frustrated and cranky, usually comes guilty and shamed.
It’s not a pattern within myself I’m happy with or proud of. I work hard at keeping the balance. I don’t always succeed.
Yesterday was such a day.
They usually occur, these days, when I’m tired or feeling overwhelmed.
At the moment, because I’m out of balance, my body is also out of balance. I’m having repeated migraines, waking up with head colds (today a blocked nose and sore throat) and basically feeling like I’ve been hit by a bus.
I feel a little sorry for myself and then wryly smile.
Fear brought me here. A fear, now that I no longer have a stable job and have to generate my own income, of not having and not being enough.
Another layer to peel from the healing onion.
A recurring layer – I’m sure I’ve seen this one before.
I have created this reality. I need to restore balance. I need to put my needs first. If I don’t, I’ll become too sick to work and that’ll teach me lol.
I think a lot of us seesaw between loving ourselves and not feeling we are enough. I wonder if I have this wrong which is why I’m here again. Maybe, it’s more that I do love myself but I don’t know how to break the patterns I’ve subscribed to my whole life. And the clash between those two is what makes the ill-ness.
Maybe I need to merge or integrate the two opposing thoughts, make peace with the girl who didn’t love herself and not feel guilty that I do. In our society, we expect women to be humble and to not, out loud, like themselves just as they are. We are expected to fit into neat little boxes.
And I don’t want to.
Even as childhood trauma survivors slash victors, the idea is that we stay messed up forever. That we embody the trauma for as long as we breathe.
I don’t want to.
I want to be free of it. Own where I was and who I was, but embrace where I am now and who I am now.
I feel like new experiences are challenging the new ways of my being, ripping them apart, and my fight to stay me has brought fears back that I might not be accepted if I don’t fit into the box.
I speak freely now. Some call me arrogant. In that ‘arrogant’ mode, I speak truth. People label it arrogant so that they don’t have to hear the truth. I’m fine with that. Or maybe I’m not.
Meh. This could go on for hours so I’ll spare you the never ending circle of argument here and I’ll ponder it on my own. I think I’ve hit the core of the issue though – that trauma impact of fear saying I won’t belong if I stand unashamedly in my truth.
I disagree, fear.