When was the last time you talked about it?

This post is dedicated to @strikeoutss and @GillianMKendall for inspiring me to ask the question “How are you doing?, When was the last time you talked about it?”

I just ran into a neighbor and by coincidence, I happened to ask about her grandson and his wheelchair. She told me the story and while I won’t go into it, while listening, it occurred to me that perhaps no one had asked her about it.

It’s really hard being a care giver, to be the emotional support for another human being is a lot of work. I know that because I live it every single day. I am that person for someone, and someone else is that person for me.

I don’t often “talk” verbally about what happened to me. It’s taken a lot of years for me to being open to describing it all, period, and I realize how special it is when I have the opportunity to talk about it.

Not because I want to share the details, but because I genuinely just need to say the words out loud. I had that same experience today when I got the call after signing up for professional Trauma Therapy.

In trying to make the person on the other end of the phone aware of my situation, I had to describe certain events and people (without using names of course), who affected me. I had to keenly and openly discuss my experience, so that someone else would understand “this is the scope of what I am dealing with here…”.

I really needed, like physically needed to do that, and I think that’s why we’re all so tired. We’re saying the words but so few people are hearing what it is that we’re saying, they aren’t really listening to us, probably because they need someone to listen to them and on the cycle goes.

I’ve been saying I am okay – and I am, I am quite content without unnecessary human connections cluttering up my healing process. For the moment, but I won’t always be.

In trying to do this healing thing I’ve hurt a lot of people over the years that I care about, pushing them away instead of letting them in because I was inherently afraid to get hurt, and too raw to understand that’s what I was doing.

This time around I fully am aware that I’ve kicked people out of my life and that it hurt them, but in discussing my experience today, I also learned that I am okay with that decision because I didn’t like those people….but I need some people.

The voices in my head aren’t really cutting it any more, because now they’re aware I think they’re fictional and now they’re forcing me to focus on my real life issues, rather than letting me tell their story.

Yeah, that’s literally what it means to be a writer in the middle of an existential crisis. The thing is that I’m getting used to my mind repeating the same cycle over and over again, repeating it in order to understand. I’ve learned I have to repeat shit in order to understand it, and the only thing I’ve really learned is that I am living a cycle.

I’m so aware of the cycle that I forgot I had made the choice not to dissect every terrible thing I went through. I’ve never really done that, sat down and talked it out with someone, shared my story in a real way, because no one ever asks. “How are you?”

We’ve gone so overboard with allowing ourselves to feel the things that we need to feel that we’re not really talking to each other, but at each other.

So when I ask “how are you this morning?” on Twitter, it’s because I genuinely want to know. I know that everyone might think that I’m over here offering advice but the truth is that I need it to.

It’s not that I’m not being mindful, it is actually that I am being so mindful of how I’m feeling, I’ve forgotten how to deal with how I am feeling.

This tweet is exactly what inspired this post. Gillian fixed these problems by removing the shoe squishing her toe, she had something to eat and massaged her ear a little bit to make it more comfortable. (I’m assuming, here.)  These issues had rather simple fixes.

Healing from uncomfort comes in a variety of ways and sometimes you have to stir things up in order to find the best medicine. I’ve only recently discovered grounding, is what I’ve been doing after a panic attack. Those things you do to remind you of where you are instead of wherever you go when you get a panic attack.

I know mentally this is what I’ve been doing, but I haven’t been conscious of it. Like when I have an emotional attack, when the tears, memories, shame and fear come to play I immediately go for a smoke, to bring myself back to the present.

Often when I am writing and I am stuck of where to go next, I switch to twitter to see if that inspires me – as I just did in the process of writing this piece. Finding ways to pull ourselves out of the darkness is just as important of knowing that we need to talk about what we’ve gone through, what we are going through, so that we can move to the next step.

My problem is that I have been through so much in such a short period of time, that I honestly forgot I don’t have to deal with it all at once. Healing from what we’ve been through is going to take years to deal with, and there will always be times I get dragged kicking and screaming into my worst fears, because that’s a part of the healing process.

But it won’t last forever, that’s the thing I am learning. Little by little the darkest parts of myself are starting to fade away so that I can deal with being in the light again. I know that without a doubt I want to get back to the place where I am strong enough to help those who are still suffering, and in order to do that, I need to start doing the work to get me there.

I know what those steps are – or at least some of those steps. I don’t need to know them all at once, I just need to know that the “next” step, is reaching out to someone I can talk about the abuse with. Someone who understands that I need to talk about it, so I can start getting past it.

That’s the “next” step, and that’s the one that I am feeling strong enough to take, so in this moment, before I can turn back and change my mind, I am deciding to take it.

So when I ask you, “how are you doing?” I genuinely hope you will tell me, because I’m strong enough to let you lean on me, I’m strong enough to ask you so that you can teach me how you’re doing the thing that I am trying to do. I’m strong enough because you inspired me.

Thank you so much for that

Sending all my love,

Devon J Hall

 

P.S.

How are you doing?