As always, much about your journey resonates with mine. These words really struck home: "It’s not THIS part of my brain that struggles, I said, tapping my forehead, indicating the part of my brain that lives my daily life and with whom I am in constant conversation. It’s INSIDE, it’s the operating system itself." I finally have the resources to take care of my health (now that I am mostly not working--so, hoo boy, yeah I know the struggle around feeling you must earn things and how do you do that if you're no longer doing the things that always meant you had value?), so I've spent the last 8 months tackling my myriad sources of chronic pain. Long story short: It's all one source: not my conscious brain, but the part I cannot control with conscious thought. (Hello, amygdala.) The part that therapy (of the sort I've had) cannot touch. It's the operating system, and the YEARS of wiring laid down by living in situations that posed threats of various kinds. Repairing it is a work in process, but damn if it doesn't feel great to lay down the burden of doing ALL the self-care, which is its own problem that only contributes to (and doesn't acknowledge) the root problems. Wishing you well, and so happy to hear that you're happy, and I hope you keep walking and writing about what you find.
I always love hearing from you but am sorry chronic pain is haunting you. Especially partly driven by the O/S that was shaped by trauma. But yeah, fuck that operating system, am I right? It’s exhausting sometimes. But I am glad I do not currently perceive that as a flaw or a failure — merely and wholly a part of me. Sending you love always! And yes, I always hope and intend to write more than twice a year. We will see what the remainder of this year brings.
Oof, this hit home. There are some lessons we have to learn over and over. And as for your brother - many years ago I admitted to my (first!) therapist that I low-key looked forward to the death of my mother, because at least then she would stop trying to control me. She said, "The voice she put in your head will keep talking to you long after she's gone." Well, fuck her for being right.
Oh, gosh, Amy yes. Though my mom’s death did shift and change a lot of things within me as I got further from the immediate trauma of her death and the lingering trauma of how we were so deeply, unwisely entangled for so long. I had been planning to write a book about that and had actually started work on it — but then I realized the book was all of my packaging up the experience to make it make sense and then I lost all interest in writing it. Because accepting it didnt make sense was a big part of letting go and letting her recede. And now I can just miss her sometimes, simply and without anger or angst or wishing things had been different. Wishing YOU peace and sweet silence in due time. xo
"I think — actually I know — part of the reason I write so openly about psychic pain and how deeply it roots itself in you is to show everyone, including myself, that this pain does not mean we aren’t high-functioning human beings. I desperately want to normalize the reality of how long it takes to unwrap one’s mind from the coping devices we use to survive difficult times." - THIS was exactly what I needed to read today. I have wasted so much emotional energy trying to convince myself (and others...probably mostly others, if I'm honest) that iamjustfineoverherethankyou when really, it's more complex than that. I AM fine - functional, healthy, joyful - and yet NOT QUITE FINE all at the same time, in a way I don't think is actually possible to completely overcome in a lifetime?
And yet, I worry about letting that 'not quite fine' part show, as though it will erase or overshadow or somehow discredit the 'but actually, I'm also doing pretty well over here' part. Both can be true.
As always, much about your journey resonates with mine. These words really struck home: "It’s not THIS part of my brain that struggles, I said, tapping my forehead, indicating the part of my brain that lives my daily life and with whom I am in constant conversation. It’s INSIDE, it’s the operating system itself." I finally have the resources to take care of my health (now that I am mostly not working--so, hoo boy, yeah I know the struggle around feeling you must earn things and how do you do that if you're no longer doing the things that always meant you had value?), so I've spent the last 8 months tackling my myriad sources of chronic pain. Long story short: It's all one source: not my conscious brain, but the part I cannot control with conscious thought. (Hello, amygdala.) The part that therapy (of the sort I've had) cannot touch. It's the operating system, and the YEARS of wiring laid down by living in situations that posed threats of various kinds. Repairing it is a work in process, but damn if it doesn't feel great to lay down the burden of doing ALL the self-care, which is its own problem that only contributes to (and doesn't acknowledge) the root problems. Wishing you well, and so happy to hear that you're happy, and I hope you keep walking and writing about what you find.
I always love hearing from you but am sorry chronic pain is haunting you. Especially partly driven by the O/S that was shaped by trauma. But yeah, fuck that operating system, am I right? It’s exhausting sometimes. But I am glad I do not currently perceive that as a flaw or a failure — merely and wholly a part of me. Sending you love always! And yes, I always hope and intend to write more than twice a year. We will see what the remainder of this year brings.
Oof, this hit home. There are some lessons we have to learn over and over. And as for your brother - many years ago I admitted to my (first!) therapist that I low-key looked forward to the death of my mother, because at least then she would stop trying to control me. She said, "The voice she put in your head will keep talking to you long after she's gone." Well, fuck her for being right.
Also, I'm doing Noom and I hate it.
Oh, gosh, Amy yes. Though my mom’s death did shift and change a lot of things within me as I got further from the immediate trauma of her death and the lingering trauma of how we were so deeply, unwisely entangled for so long. I had been planning to write a book about that and had actually started work on it — but then I realized the book was all of my packaging up the experience to make it make sense and then I lost all interest in writing it. Because accepting it didnt make sense was a big part of letting go and letting her recede. And now I can just miss her sometimes, simply and without anger or angst or wishing things had been different. Wishing YOU peace and sweet silence in due time. xo
haha. I was a hospice volunteer till Mom died. Then I suddenly lost interest in hospice. HMMMM.
"I think — actually I know — part of the reason I write so openly about psychic pain and how deeply it roots itself in you is to show everyone, including myself, that this pain does not mean we aren’t high-functioning human beings. I desperately want to normalize the reality of how long it takes to unwrap one’s mind from the coping devices we use to survive difficult times." - THIS was exactly what I needed to read today. I have wasted so much emotional energy trying to convince myself (and others...probably mostly others, if I'm honest) that iamjustfineoverherethankyou when really, it's more complex than that. I AM fine - functional, healthy, joyful - and yet NOT QUITE FINE all at the same time, in a way I don't think is actually possible to completely overcome in a lifetime?
And yet, I worry about letting that 'not quite fine' part show, as though it will erase or overshadow or somehow discredit the 'but actually, I'm also doing pretty well over here' part. Both can be true.