I woke up with feelings this morning. Heavy chest, racing thoughts, yup I'm anxious. I'm so fucking anxious lately. Did I pay this? Is this person okay? Did I forget something? Do my friends still like me?
I'm annoyed with myself. No, better yet, I'm angry. Angry at the people who were supposed to protect me and dropped the ball. Angry with the world for putting certain obstacles in mine and my families way. Angry with people who seem happy and loved and cared for. Why? Because I'm actually just incredibly fucking sad.
Nothing in particular has to happen for my hormones to decide we feel sad today. Sure, we could analyze how the changes in my life recently (did I mention I'm married now?) could have triggered some trauma residuals. I don't want to though. I just want to be sad today. Is that too much to ask for? My life has not gone how I thought it would. My life events have been both harmful and supportive. So what if, for now in just this moment, I just let myself be fucking sad.
There's a thing referred to as toxic positivity. Ignoring shit that should be getting processed and felt in favor of false happy and optimistic perspectives. It sounds great in theory, just a positive spin on life? Except when we don't give our shadow monsters room to gnash and gnarl at the world they tend to turn those aggressions inwards. So, this morning I got out my paints and a cheap white canvas from Five Below and I dumped my 'anger' out. After 30secs of thick red circles and black streaks I started crying. Lightbulb- I'm angry because I'm sad. Aren't emotions fickle beasties?
I think when you've gone through complex trauma, or just some bullshit, you create ways of dealing with it. Healthy, unhealthy, adaptive, maladaptive whatever type your brain uses they're all an attempt to cope with life's lessons. Throughout well over a decade of therapy I gained some helpful coping skills, so instead of bitching at my husband or getting on my high horse about something in a sad attempt at validation and control; I paint or write.
If I'm being honest, my childhood abuse has been upsetting me lately. I looked into a support group this morning and actually sent an email to the director to be added. I think about my work, and realize that I have so much shame around my life and my body that I need to cope with so I can be there more authentically for my clients. I realized this week that I've gotten so good at ignoring my body to the point where I'm not sure I actually know what regular hunger is. I usually wait until the point of nausea and starvation and then struggle with binging. My nutritionist goes "You know you're doing this pattern to yourself?" NO SHIT SHEILA HELP ME. Sheila did not in fact help me. She was probably just as frustrated as I was.
So, I don't know. For now I paint and write bloggy blurbs no one reads and it helps a bit. Maybe one day someone else will read this and feel less alone. I know that in the time it took me to paint and write this post I went from feeling rage to hopeful. All I need is a drop of hope to take on one day at a time.