- This topic has 3 replies, 3 voices, and was last updated 3 years, 11 months ago by
.
-
Posts
-
-
Hello fellow survivors. If you read this – thank you, and please know, whatever stage you’re at, you’re doing a great job.
I’m sad that we’re all here for the reasons we are, but glad that we can be here for each other.
I’m pretty far down the road in the recovery journey, time-wise. But I’m still lumbering with the effects of what happened and I’m so tired of it; I’m sure this is very familiar to many people on this forum.
It’s been a while since I made an effort to look back and describe what I see, but I think I need to express myself today.
I think I’ve been trying to ignore my problems and just carry on with life, not talking about what happened to me. I’ve been lucky enough to access multiple forms of support before, where I’ve talked it through to try and understand. The dense sadness always comes back though, and the daily beating-myself-up routine never really went away. The show-reel in my mind still displays the odd old frame, jarring and complete with smells and sounds and feelings and colours and pain. The frames have been cut from their films and don’t form part of today’s story, but still they spread to contaminate and colour the frames and seconds to come.
From somewhere deep down, a tiny glimmer of an idea that things will get better and stay better sometimes winks at me when the light can catch it. It’s rare because of the heavy grey clouds that swallow everything whole, but on those prized days when there’s the slightest lift and the fog is threadbare, it races through to tell me it’s still there and never died. Then the pressure changes, the light falls and the glimmer is engulfed again.
I get angry with myself and can never truly be kind to myself – any act of ‘self-care’ only ever serves to feed the fact that I was never good enough, I’m undeserving, I’m weak and not a whole person. Days are real and unreal, strong but undefined, felt but not understood. Nights are fierce and visceral.
I think I’m mostly used to being alone now but on days like today it gets so lonely – there are people, they can hear me but they’ll never understand. Maybe I should respect the fact that I’ll never forget what happened and can never go back to who I was before, and take some time to observe the grief of that loss and self-console. I hope that one day, I’ll also be able to celebrate every deft line, movement and shade of the new, without the overcast sky of old seeping in and looming lazy, heavy and careless over the parade.
All these words I picked and placed together probably make no sense: neither does the past, so maybe that’s okay.
I hope one day I’ll be able to keep moving forwards without looking back and getting lost in what was laid behind.
I wish the same for anyone reading this, and that you feel the glowy warmth of a hopeful sun on your skin the next time your mind turns in on itself. If you reach out, there are people who can take your hand, help with the load and support you into a new direction.
Love and light to you all. x o x
-
Many thanks fir your message @SmileandWave. You may not realise it but I found it very uplifting. I think it’s about accepting that we have a past and yes it was horrendous at times, but the future is ours to make into how we want it to be.
Having a positive outlook, having HOPE, knowing the universe will take care of us. Im a firm believer in the power of three. Of putting out into the universe what you want,if believing it will happen.
Blessed be
IWMB 💞💞 -
-
Wow! That is a beautiful piece of eloquent writing and very lovely to read.
I guess many of us have scars from the past. I have not gone back to the person I used to be, in many ways I am now a stronger person than I used to be, but there are some things that haunt me from my past that I cannot let go of. One of those things are to do with phone calls. My ex never allowed me to have phone calls at home on the landline when he was in the house. He always answered the phone and told my friends or family it was an inconvenient time to talk to me and would hang up on them. He would then tell me how rude they were to intrude on our personal time together. Honestly, it would go like this:
Anyone ringing between 5pm-6pm – Was rude because he’d just got home from work and he wanted to speak to me as he’d been out all day
Between 6pm-7pm – Was rude because we were having dinner and washing up
Between 7pm – 8pm – Was rude because we were bathing the baby and putting him to bed
Between 8pm-9pm – Was rude because we would be watching a programme on TV
After 9pm – Just plain rude because it was late! People were only permitted to phone after 9pm to inform me that someone had died!
Any time on Saturday or Sunday – Was rude because he worked all week and this was our ‘quality’ (rolls eyes) time together.
So, basically, I got brain washed in to thinking that if I phoned a friend up I was intruding on their personal and private time, and to this day, if I phone a friend up my first words are “Hi, it’s me, is it convenient to talk?”
-
- You must be logged in to reply to this topic.
