Sitting in my office, aka the dining room, I have a clear view of my entire life.
My living room is immaculate. I just steamed the floors and took out the trash.
Don’t look in my bedroom though. There’s a heaping mound of freshly washed clothes that may or may not end up in this very chair I’m sitting in.
At face value, my place looks good, spotless. I’ve got jazz music playing and pumpkin spice candles putting serotonin in the air. Life is good.
Yet deeper inside there’s this massive burden, waiting for me to deal with it.
Would you look at this mound of clothes differently if you knew it’s been here for two weeks?
I’ll get to it, unpacking the burden, folding the pile, and moving forward.
I’ll get to talking about the trauma, the past I’ve long tried to heal from without facing it. I guess we’re not talking about clothes anymore.
Getting back to doing what I love
I’m reading this book titled, A Story you Need to Tell by Sandra Marinella. It’s inspired me to write what you’re reading right now. I don’t have one specific story to tell, I have a few. This book is helping me find my voice again. (Shoutout to local bookstores like Changing Hands connecting us to what we need to read most.)
“Both trauma and grief can silence us.”Marinella said in her book.
I have not wanted to sit down and write about my trauma and my grief or put my vulnerability on display for the cruel internet to see and pick apart. Everyone is grieving something, we’re all in pain in some way.
That was until I found myself listening to many grievances, reliving my past trauma while trying to be a sounding board.
Nothing against it, we all need someone to talk to, but boundaries must be set so I’m not absorbing so much of others’ pain. I want to be included in the happy moments too or get to talk more than I listen.
Your story can help someone else
A lot of life-changing events have happened in the past year. I’ve simply just been sitting with it, processing, and enjoying being happy.
I have not talked about the mentally abusive relationship I spent a year in.
I haven’t talked much about the grief of losing my grandmother, the one person in my family who made sure I was always ok. The only person who didn’t need me to help all the time.
I want to talk more about my experience with homelessness. I only share the short version. It’s been many years since, but as of today, I am the most stable I’ve ever been.
I’ve talked about the toxic job I had enough, I do wish I didn’t have to think about it anymore, I want to talk about how I moved past it.
These are the chapters that have made me who I am today. Situations someone else may find themselves in and need to read something that could help.
Nobody’s got me like I got me
Say that subtitle out loud. Really feel it because it’s true. YOU got this.
Through all this trauma and grief I have become my own best friend.
When you’ve got to make $3.21 stretch for two weeks, you become your own best friend. That has been my life for years. I can make $20 last a week with my eyes closed (also you can’t spend money when you’re sleeping).
Through it all I made it to that next paycheck, I made it to that next meal. In some weird way being so self-reliant has made me love and appreciate myself more than ever.
Now I guess I’ll go fold these clothes.
“Experience your pain. Embrace your silence. When the time feels right, find your way back to your words — and write.”Sandra Marinella.