I obssess reflect regularly on how my reactions to trauma: insecurity, shame, and depression were treated harshly, by the people on whom I counted most. I was openly and collectively labeled/dismissed as negative and difficult –which apparently makes it acceptable to diminish and to show a person all the ways in which they do not count. That trauma lasted through decades. And I openly acknowledge that I unknowingly took my unhealed trauma out into the world and intintially tried to flip the script—in ways intended to position me to be on the giving end of the discounting, dominating, dismissing and diminishing. I am not proud of that. I am now 52 years old and thankfully I now know and do better. There is no excuse for being abusive.
In my family of origin (and later in my pathetic and similar marriage) I was either being invalidated, scolded or handled like a poopy diaper. The observable manifestations of my discomfort seemed to be regarded as villainous, betrayal, weakness, and punishable. Oh, also as INADMISSABLE and a moral failing.
Recovery continues to reveal for me that I do not have to feel happy or pleased in order to have love and good things in my life. See, my life is blessed in so many ways including now, only kind and loving people. I recognize and honor the blessings with acts of gratitude. In recovery, we learn that gratitude cannot be extracted in the form of having to pretend to feel or be different from how we actually do. That is something entirely different from gratitude. Not sure what even to call it. Emotional Blackmail. Conditional something. Whatever, that bullshit is toxic and traumatic.
There have been long periods of my life, so dark and in which I was too broken to appreciate anything, much less enjoy it. Today, I appreciate so many things but enjoy very few. That is recovery and depression.
Depression is real and difficult and even traumatic when failure to mask or deny it puts you in the crosshairs of your caregivers and genetic links.
I am unapologetically imperfect, emotionally complex, and actively healing. My habitual examination is no longer me trying to be heard, beleived, right, good, or better. THIS is me just fucken trying. Period.
I recently made the mistake of re-watching the George Floyd video and felt crushing sadness for living in a world where Derek Fkn Chauvin could look directly into the camera while (publicly even) murdering a man. He felt certain he would be supported and protected because he was being protected and supported by his fellow officers and those who continue to argue for his right and duty to do exactly as he did. Even if Floyd had just murdered a person, this is not legally or morally acceptable. It is also triggering AF because this was my sister with me. Obviously to a lesser degree, since I am not dead, physically. She felt vested to do exactly as she did and does.
I find myself wondering if the cruelty is out of thoughtlessness and unknowing or if indeed it is as thoughtfully administered as it seems. Also, not meaning for a thing to unfold as it did, does not lessen the impact and reality of it having happened. I continue to challenge things which I was taught and learned and remember about family, connection, power, and worthiness.
