There are times when writing about the “messy middle” of my life takes its toll on me. For the last two weeks, I feel like I have been fighting in an emotional boxing match. I have been knocked down and keep standing back up, only to be knocked back down again. I have felt confident, vulnerable, free, and scared at various times. I feel like I have shared both too much and not enough. I have also felt like both a trailblazer and an imposter at the same time. Huh?!? There have been days when I have felt like myself and others when I have felt unsettled.
I know part of it is that slowing down and thinking about all that I have been through allows me to feel the weight of it all. I also know that it feels very weird to write and share about my life when I simultaneously feel like I have learned both something and nothing at all. I think this is why most people don’t share their stories until there is some kind of “Tada” moment — when it is easier to talk about what has been learned after it has actually been learned instead of in the middle of learning it. Also, does anyone really fucking care about any of this?!? I certainly don’t feel like anything that I am writing is exceptionally profound and/or interesting.
Then, my husband left me this note this morning as he was leaving the house to attend a sporting event:
(If you don’t know the Lobster reference, it is from the TV show Friends.)
My husband somehow knows what I need to hear when I need to hear it.
So, to keep being open and vulnerable, I will provide a clearer picture of where my head has been at lately. Here are two things I have said to our therapist in the last 8 days:
1) “I feel like a failure.”
2) “Why is being human so hard?”
Her reaction to #1 was stunned silence, and then trying not to laugh at me. I could tell that she was trying very hard not to invalidate my feelings, but I could also tell this one came out of left field for her. I took it as a sign that my perspective may be a little off right now. I know in my logical brain that I need to look at my life from a different perspective, but it has been a real struggle lately.
Her reaction to #2 was like, yeah, this is why I have a job. 🤣
Because I know myself really well, I know that I need to rely on my trusted people for support. I have tried to be completely honest and transparent about my feelings and emotions, and I have relied — and continue to rely — on the people who know me the best and are capable of sitting with me in my darkest hours to lend me their support. The people who believe in me on the days when I can’t see it for myself are the true treasures of my life. (And, if you are wondering if you are one of my trusted people, review your text exchanges and/or video call logs from the last 2 weeks, and you will see us there. I am grateful for you! ❤️)
I have been told by our amazing therapist who specializes in chronic illness and trauma that feeling this way at times is normal and healthy. This is me being psychologically flexible. This is me regulating my emotions. This is me healing from the emotional effects of chronic illness, medical gaslighting, and toxic positivity, to name a few. According to her, this is me continuing to be the true definition of resilient.
Me: There has to be a mental health diagnosis for this.
Therapist: No, this is called resilience.
🤣🤔🤣
Hmm. I guess I will have to believe her until I can see it again for myself. In this moment, what it feels like to me is a real shitshow.
I guess being human means feeling both lost and found at the same time.
Brutal. The human experience.
Beautiful. The human experience. My loving and supportive husband. My trusted people. Our trusted therapist.
Just another day of . . . This Brutiful Life: The Brutal & Beautiful Moments of My Life.
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This Brutiful Life 