I have either numbed out or passed through the worst of it. Or I am in a lull, like the eye of the storm.
This is exhausting, feeling so much. And it’s so hard to try to be present with my emotions AND work AND teach AND do whatever else I am supposed to do. Like freelancing and wedding stuff and being a compassionate wife.
Ah, tears. Likely not numbed out then. But I am in bed, and alone, my favourite place. It’s easiest to be me, whoever that is, while I am here.
The last few days have really made me realize how codependent my relationship with my family is, and how much I learned to play my reaction off of other people. And how much I take on the emotions of others.
And it feels impossible. It feels impossible to get through this. Where is the end? Does it ever get easier to sit in emotions? Am I ever going to be able to name them or deal with them or am I going to be stuck with “I feel good” and “I feel bad”. It feels impossible, yet I’m doing it.
I used to be able to picture a life where I was completely, 100%, myself. Where my reactions were mine and my decisions were mine. Where I was no longer walking through life on eggshells, my behaviour and reactions dictated by those around me.
I have decided to avoid MO after this, for at least 7 months, possibly longer. As much as it pains me – it is not a healthy place for me to be. It is not a healthy choice for me to go there. And that breaks my heart, but I recognize it won’t always be that way. Or maybe it will. I can’t care – I have to put myself first.
I was struck by something I remembered while writing out my letter to A. My very first therapist, I was 16. I went to her and said “I feel like my life is a movie. Like I’m not real. Like the things happening aren’t real. And I imagine how things would go if I could change the script.”
And that therapist told me that was a problem and I needed to live in reality and I was wrong and I think she thought I meant I was fantasizing – and I haven’t thought about that or managed to articulate it in years… because as a teenager who showed vulnerability with an adult for the first time I was shut down… until my letter to A this past week:
Neither of us want to go to MO. I feel like I have no way of getting through this. And like I’m just devolving into this empty shell and into being perfect me, ready to once again be the blushing bride and doting daughter. When I was a child I used to imagine my life was a movie and when bad things happened to me it was okay because it wasn’t real, it was just a movie. I was an actor on a set playing a role and that’s why I didn’t get to feel anything – I had to do what the script told me until I left set – only I didn’t leave that set until I moved here. I feel like when I fly back to MO I’m walking back on set, the aged child star who they are doing a wedding special about because they are out of ideas to keep a 28 year series fresh.
I know I’m in the middle of it right now and that’s why I can’t see progress but I am amazed I have yet to get drunk and I am amazed I have yet to completely disassociate or numb out. I am a mess, but it’s real. I might as well let my emotions out while it’s safe, because when I walk back onto set in three days – it won’t be.