It seems like Friday is my writing day. I get clarity and ideas during the week and poof. I am thinking that it’s a combination of keeping with my goal and the fact that by Thursday my 13 and 14 year old daughters have enabled me to pour a glass of wine and convince me to run into a little “happy place”. So here I am yes.
I was jotting things down this week about ownership, taking ownership, of your shiz. I can say that it is a courageous step to take. You are realizing something uncomfortable, leaning into it, your ego and pride are bulldozed for a bit, but it’s very freeing. I compare it to your innards being flipped and exposing themselves to your biggest teacher, your actions. When I got knocked over by my husband and my kids after coming to terms with my actions after nearly 10 years of being numb on depakote I felt like running under a rock. Anyone know about running to the nearest boulder and going to your happy place? It is not pleasant and most people stay under the rock and never face their fears. Through an enlightening process of placing yourself in someone else’s shoes you are taking a giant leap of bravery and eventually it feels safe and kind. That is the universes way of rewarding us.
After all this mess my husband and I are still trying to recover. We are in therapy and that’s a pow to endure. The good therapists get some waves going and it is up to the individual to hang on and hold space for each other. I have been in therapy a while and it’s been a godsend. You should try it just to get all the sludge out and put some kindness back inside, hanging with friends is the next best option. We just helped my husband realize that he has a bit of PTSD after all this. He says I missed out on seven years of my life because of what happened to me. Hmmmm, ouch and I can’t even remember the past seven years, how do you like them apples. With ownership comes the ability to seek compassion, or not. The flip side is blame and that is just a whole lot of suffering. I feel my husband is grieving that life he thought of as being “normal” and less drama of mental illness. Why did he get to be the one to carry me? I remember the boyfriend I could of married, could that person have handled my crisis? I tap into my faith, renewed faith, and how our lives are already written. I have to trust that this is part of our path together. I will say my habits and actions were imprinted in me a long time ago. These character traits were not born by mental illness, it is your surroundings as you grow. I am not angry but I am able to recognize a lot more now, I have forgiven the people that carried me through my youth. Humans have this ability to make stories in their heads and grip a lot of pain, I was the best story teller ever. The only way to release the grip is to find a gentle compassion to yourself and send it out.
I know I have worked like a strong oxen warrior to dig inside, I have screamed, cried, laughed and then I have done it again. My love of yoga and meditation has given me hope, presence, and accountability. I am not sure my husband can find this courage, he’s very traumatized and it is not his character to feel this discomfort and try to let go. One more year with my girls at home and the universe will direct us. It is unknown and I am honoring myself, my husband, and my god. Namaste!!! Sorry this is serious after my last blog but I have been revisiting this topic in my head often.