Finding My Voice (about fucking time)

View of Pioneer Valley from Summit House looking north.

I find myself starting and deleting a lot of these posts. It is hardest to write when I have this cognitive blur. I am not always sure what started it and am tracking a lot of my physical and mental changes to see if I can find patterns to any of this. I do notice that sometimes when I am like this, I can change to doing something creative rather than use words. Other times, I get more and more irritated, and it amplifies other symptoms.

I caught myself going back through posts again. I was looking for mistakes. That promise [to me] to let it go and build on those mistakes is hardest. Once upon a time there were consequences for mistakes or behaviors that others saw as wrong. I have this ingrained need to please, so this would devastate me far more to be called out for it than the actual mistake warranted.

Someone I confided in remembered that and also my deep need to do the right thing. I have always been naive about humans and have a hard time noticing ill intent. I am not stupid; how do I open myself to people who are masters of manipulation? Why is my default to enter into relationships that are purely transactional, or they are flat out narcissists?

More than 10-years of coordinated bullying by this one woman and her flying monkeys (the lead of which is rather loud and persistent) have done their work. It is so deeply ingrained in me that eventually I stopped doing things because I was afraid to move forward. I was criticized there too. Criticism then turned into slander and a coordinated attempt to discredit everything I did. I tried to walk away from everything a number of times, but I was never allowed to. It eventually became a sick game of theirs.

In thinking this week about what my source of cognitive blur and anxiety could be and this immovable block to write, create, read, explore or do, I realized there were four underlying layers of thought that I was trying to process.

  • Closing up my daughter’s room because it has been a year and we need to use it as a guest room at the request of other members of the family.
  • Being encouraged to write, create and share. This in part means standing up to people. I never do. I honestly do not know how.
  • Needing to meet financial obligations to people who invested in me and believed in me. The idea of letting anyone down is deeply painful and I am working on actively sorting this out and communicating better. This also means holding people on the other end accountable. That has been my biggest challenge, standing up to people on my behalf. I can do for projects and other people really really well. It is for me or for something I deeply care about that I have this challenge.
  • I am going through an immense amount of paperwork, photos, things and the memories are flooding me with an intensity that I have not had before. I was told that some of this is grief. I am honestly feeling things, sometimes for the first time and the good with the bad makes this confusing because if they were good memories, is this grief? Of course, it is, but it is confusing to sort out what I am feeling physically and how to categorize them sometimes. It is hard to tell people who don’t go through trauma what that feels like.

I am finally starting to organize a plan of action so to speak. Grad school was supposed to be a period of reflection (that was a bull shit bait and switch btw). I have a lot of resources that people can use. I will make some of them available for free. Some will be for sale. I will also come up with a coffee hour a couple of times a week for people who need help with projects. It will not be for people who want to talk about personal things I write about. Not now.

I feel like this post is becoming declarative like my work plans (a fancy word for to-do lists). Basically, I see how this is going to take shape and I feel more at ease saying it here. My anxiety is there, but in therapy this week, your man came up with this idea of scheduling an appointment for these moments to process things. It is an interesting way to manage my “Overwhelm.”

My mom said that to get through raising the four of us alone, her divorce and working more than full time, she “compartmentalized” things. She visualized putting things in a box and onto a shelf and reminding herself that she cannot focus on those things on the shelf now, something else needs attention. For someone who is probably neurodiverse, this is a profound idea but worth trying to adapt to my brain somehow.

Fair enough.

Elizabeth Ferriera mentioned good and bad disassociation in the Becoming Well podcast about cPTSD as a helpful tool. I mean, it is a coping mechanism to help trauma folks survive. I get it, I do it. The idea of taking ownership of it for good speaks to me. It is like when I was a kid before the trauma and learned to stop my nightmares and change how the narrative played out. I remember also playing good memories or thoughts over and over again, like listening to a favorite song to short clip on repeat.

I guess this is what grounding is and boy did that take me years to finally realize it. I just want to get to the point where I can do that again. It took me a week this time to finally muddle out what I am feeling, process actionable items to sort my shit and really start to do it.

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