Trauma, intention, and healing yourself

Trauma comes in all shapes and sizes, and unfortunately, nobody gets through life without experiencing it in one way or another: childhood neglect, physical, sexual, or emotional abuse, bullying, abusive or toxic relationships, living with someone who has substance abuse or mental health issues, poverty, oppression, and on it goes. We all must deal with trauma, and it leaves its mark on each of us. We enter this world as innocent beings, but then people fuck us up, and we, in turn, fuck other people up (even though we do not intend to do so).

I used to think intention mattered, but it does not. Not really. People have done me wrong, and I have done people wrong. If I hurt you, that is what matters… it matters not that I didn't intend to do it. Intentionality is a beautiful thought, but at the end of the day, it means very little. 

And when it comes to healing from someone who has hurt me, ownership is the path to true healing. Even though I am not responsible for the pain and trauma I have gone through, I need to be the one to own it, and this is why: It is unrealistic to expect everyone who has hurt me to be accountable, apologize, and do the work to make it right. 

So, I have two choices: 1) I can continue to let their actions dictate and influence how I view myself and approach the world, or 2) I can accept I am the only one who can fix it. I choose option number two. My trauma is not my fault, but it is my responsibility to own it so I can heal from it. No one else is going to do it for me. 

Radical Acceptance

I went through something two weeks ago that changed my life. It was the most beautiful and peaceful experience I have ever had. It was radical acceptance.

Radical acceptance means accepting everything about yourself, your current situation, your body, and your life without question, blame, or pushback. Far from condoning or embracing your current difficulties and situation, radical acceptance typically advocates accepting yourself and your circumstances to better move through and past them.

You simply… poof, accept everything. Radical acceptance feels like you are looking at yourself and your life from an outsider’s perspective, with no judgements and no attachments. You see everything for exactly what it is and feel entirely okay and at peace with it. You let go of the pain and move forward.

I used to hide all the raw and vulnerable parts of myself that I felt were undesirable or imperfect. I could not trust anyone because I was terrified of being judged, hurt, or abandoned. Being this way was not a conscious choice; my subconscious was protecting my ego. I was closed off, showed you only what I wanted you to see, and never felt secure in who I was. I did not know how to be myself, not even when alone. 

Since I experienced radical acceptance two weeks ago, I have become acutely receptive to emotional, authentic, and spiritual conversations. I want to connect with people in the most genuine way possible. I want to give and receive complete honesty, even if it is “ugly.” The more shameful your secrets, the more beautiful I find them; my secrets are no different. The stuff we hide is the stuff that makes us unique, fascinating, and extraordinary. 

These last two weeks, I have been open, vulnerable, and, most importantly, myself with everyone I have interacted with. I have this new, deep understanding that the people who are meant to be in my life will be, and those who aren’t won’t be. I cannot force anything, and I do not want to. 

Imagine you have a bead in your hand. You are so afraid to lose it that you squeeze your hand tightly around it—and it slips through your fingers. Or, you can keep your hand open, palm up, and have the bead on it—and it’s still there. Enjoy what you have when you have it but don’t become too attached to it.

Mental Health Awareness Month

May began with immense emotional pain and ended with so much healing; it is difficult to describe where I started and where I am now.

Life ebbs and flows: In periods of flow, life is easy and full of meaning and movement. But when life ebbs, we struggle against the current, fighting to grasp what is important to us.

For the past five years, I struggled against the current. The details do not matter, but it was too much. So to cope, I shoved the problems and pain down as far as possible. I feared if I tried to deal with any of the big issues, I would get stuck in my head and never be able to escape.

At the beginning of May, all the pain I had been burying for years said "fuck you" and smacked me in the face all at once. Finally, I had no choice but to work through everything I had been avoiding: the self-hatred, the bitterness, the embarrassment, the shame, the guilt, all of it.

I took three weeks off work and dealt with my shit. I had to. It was time. Through dealing with it, I have learned I need to be my priority, not some guy, job, or anything else. I have also learned it is great to stay busy so I do not get stuck in my head, but I need to spend time there every so often to sort through and deal with life before it snowballs.

I never thought I would be thankful for everything I have gone through these past five years, but here we are, and I am thankful for all of it. All the pain, suffering, sadness, and depression brought me to this new place of peace, contentment, openness, and acceptance. 

I will struggle against the current in the future, and I may not be able to get through it alone, but it is okay to ask for help. Above all else, I no longer want to be perfect; I want to be authentic. 

Never Tell Someone How to Feel

Someone I was once close with taught me an invaluable lesson. He was always there when I needed to get my emotions out. It did not matter what the emotion was—happiness, depression, rage, love, anxiety, uncertainty—he listened patiently, acknowledged my feelings, and gave me a safe space to discuss whatever I was going through. At the time, I did not appreciate how precious this trait of his was.

One day, he opened up to me. He confessed he felt anxious and horrible about something that just happened. I responded, "You don't need to feel that way." Then, without pause, he said, "When you feel a certain way, I don't tell you your feelings are wrong. Please give me the same courtesy." I was stunned into silence. I don't think I even apologized. I was so taken aback by how right he was. He put me in my place in such a kind way. As a person you trust, all I need to do is listen and be supportive.

If someone trusts you enough to be vulnerable and let you in on their feelings… don't make the same mistake I did. Instead, simply listen and be supportive.

Me in another universe...

Monday morning, I walked out of my apartment building and sat on one of the benches out front. I was waiting for my mom to pick me up. I had called her thirty minutes earlier, telling her I self-harmed and was thinking about killing myself. As I was sitting on the bench, a lady I met who lives in the same apartment building walked by me and asked, "Not working from home today?" 

Over the last few months, she and I have shared some personal stories, so I feel comfortable with her. "No, I'm going to the hospital." Concerned, she walked over and asked why. I shrugged, and before I knew what I was saying, the words "I want to kill myself" escaped my mouth. She sat down, put her arm around me, and let me cry on her shoulder. "Honey, I felt the same way last week. Any time you need to talk, come knock on my door. I am always here for you. I promise."

She was late for work, so as she walked away, I stared down at my hands and wondered where the fuck I had gone wrong. I felt fine last week. What changed? My mom picked me up, and as she drove to the hospital, I said all the things out loud that I had been thinking for years: I'm stupid, I'm ugly, I'm fat, No one cares about me, No one will ever love me, I am a waste of space and everyone would be better off without me, I want to disappear. This went on for twenty minutes until I stood in front of the nurse in the ER, who was asking what I was there for.

"I'm suicidal." 

I spent the next six hours at the hospital getting meds, having blood drawn, speaking to doctors, having psychiatrist appointments set up, and crying to my mom. I knew I was where I needed to be, but I didn't understand why I was feeling so low in the first place. All I knew was that I felt miserable, and my stomach was a pit of aching depression. I felt worthless, unloveable, and so very defeated. It felt like I had fallen down an 80-foot hole, and there I was, covered in dirt and surrounded by darkness. 

Sometimes it feels like in this dimension, in this lifetime, I cannot grasp my mental health. There is another version of my life in some other universe where joy exists, where it is not just a temporary comfort. But it is not here. I have been blessed with so many wonderful things, yet I cannot appreciate them. Instead, I destroy them because of my mental illness.

Writing About Other People & the Reliability of Memory

It's a tricky balance, figuring out what's appropriate to talk about here and what has no right to be online. 

In university, many professors stressed the absolute gravity and seriousness of not writing about anyone unfavourably unless you have their permission. Hell, even writing favourably about someone leaves a question mark because countless people on this planet are private and aren't okay with having anyone know their business.

I respect people's privacy and do my best to honour it. I leave names out and try to be vague... but I am a writer. I gotta be able to write honestly, or what is the point?

My favourite course at university was Creative Nonfiction. A quick Google search pulls up dozens of definitions, so I've chosen one that's to the point:

• Creative nonfiction adds characterizations so that the reader becomes involved and can relate to the subject. Pure nonfiction focuses on facts. 

In a nutshell, nonfiction is a textbook: pure facts. 

Creative nonfiction is a memoir: all facts, but written to be enjoyed on a personal level.

____________________________________________

As much as we'd like it to be, memory is not like a filing cabinet. We don't experience something and then file it away only to bring it out later when we want to think about, talk about, or relive it. Over time, memory decays and becomes distorted. It becomes malleable, like clay or dough.

This creates a real problem with creative nonfiction because, so often, nonfiction writing can go back decades. Adults often write memoirs about the trauma they experienced as a child. I am not saying they didn't experience trauma, are lying, or what they are writing can't be trusted.

What I am saying is that specific details can change in our minds. Maybe events occurred slightly differently than you remember, words were said with a different tone, or perhaps the pain was worse, and your brain has protected you by covering much of the truth. 

Two people can also remember the same event very differently. Who is right? Either of us? Neither of us? There are so many things that shape how we remember something. Were you afraid at the time the memory developed? Were you laughing and experiencing something new and exciting or doing something that caused anxiety, boredom, or tediousness? Were you drunk? High? Were you distracted? Everything shapes memory.

There are conscious, unconscious, short-term, and long-term memories.

To understand memory and how it is formed, scientists study those with Alzheimer's: first, scientists need to figure out why people forget.

Impostor Syndrome

Something I've desperately been trying to conquer lately is impostor syndrome. Whenever I meet new people, pick up a new hobby, or start a new job, I have to fight impostor syndrome.

Impostor syndrome (also known as impostor phenomenon, impostorism, fraud syndrome, or the impostor experience) is a psychological pattern in which individuals doubt their skills, talents, or accomplishments and have a persistent internalized fear of being exposed as a "fraud."

I've started two jobs within the last month, and I am sometimes overwhelmed by feelings of impostor syndrome. It's ruined my day on occasion, left me in a puddle of tears, and has had me questioning why I even bother trying when I know perfectly well I'm going to fail. I am crying writing about it now.

What an isolating feeling impostor syndrome is. Yet roughly 70% of people will experience it at least once. It's not talked about, though–and why is it not talked about? Because talking about it requires vulnerability, and vulnerability is damn hard. Instead, when we feel insecure, we go through periods of negative self-talk, see only our failures and none of our successes, and fear that we will be busted for the frauds we think we are.

One of my jobs is as a technical writer and editor for a mining company–something I know nothing about. My other job is as a copywriter, and I've never been a copywriter. These jobs are breeding insecurity in me.

I felt depression creeping in, but for once, I recognized why it was happening. Rather than remain silent, I brought it up with my boyfriend. I needed to vocalize these feelings before they consumed me.

Between tears, I said, "These jobs are way beyond my experience and skill set. I am going to fail." 

Instead of entertaining me, he steered the conversation in a positive direction: "These companies hired you because you are great at what you do. Focus on that for a few minutes."

After a short pause, I continued speaking, more to myself than to him: "You are right. My new bosses said I'm doing a great job, my questions are fantastic, and my ideas are excellent and I should pursue them. My references had nothing but the very best to say about me. A boss has never said my work is bad. I've always been told I produce quality content. Maybe that's all I need to know."

I've got this.

Crying Is Not a Weakness

Some days you just need to cry. As much as it hurts and as much as you tell yourself not to, it's okay to cry. I need to remind myself of that sometimes. Crying is not a weakness. Crying is letting go of an emotion that will poison you if you hold it in.

I mean, look, even the former President Barack Obama cries, and he is certainly not a weak man.

A crying man is not a weak man

I don't like crying. It hurts, both physically and emotionally, and it makes me feel embarrassed and ashamed. I want to hide. I don't want anyone to see me in that state. But vulnerability is a beautiful thing, and crying is a very human thing. Sometimes it's best to let it out because the reactions of those around you just might surprise you. 

No one has ever laughed at my tears or my pain. Instead, I receive support, encouragement, love, understanding, patience, and a whole lot of empathy. 

Never be afraid to cry. It shows your humanity, and it allows people to connect with you–because we've all felt pain and we have all cried.

What's Employment Again?

After eight months of unemployment and over 200 job applications, I received two job offers in the same week. It took a couple of days for me to accept the hunt was finally over, and I now had some meaning in my life.

 
Eight months is a long time to do nothing and to have nothing. Government assistance is helpful but doesn't cover everything: rent, car payments, utilities, and groceries. An emergency better not happen, and cross your fingers that you won't need anything new because if you do, you're SOL.

Today's job market is unrecognizable from the one that existed one short year ago. Millions of people are out of work through no fault of their own, and most feel utterly hopeless about it. Finding a job when everyone else is looking for one, too, is a daunting task. 

It takes willpower, perseverance, determination, and the ability to recognize that it isn't something wrong with you that's preventing you from getting hired–it is a numbers game, sort of like bingo, and your turn will come eventually.

Many don't talk about the struggles of being jobless, but I lost my shame months ago. I was rejected from jobs I was sure I had in the bag, I had to go to my mom for money, I'm thousands of dollars in debt to various companies (that won't stop calling!), and my landlord hasn't received full rent since this pandemic started–if you want to talk about shame, I'm your gal.

I was suicidal. I felt like a leech to society. Taking, taking, taking, and never giving back. You lose your self-worth, self-esteem, and self-confidence; soon enough, you simply hate yourself. It may not be that way for everyone, but it's been horrible for me.

However... I am stronger because of it. Now I can see it for what it is: a situation I did not create but is negatively impacting millions. The shame sure is isolating, though. I felt like I was the only one struggling. I knew I wasn't because the news stories told me that millions of people were suffering, but I didn't see suffering anywhere except under my own roof. Once I started talking about it, though, the floodgates opened, and I found my people. My struggling people.

Suicide and the Anniversary of Andy's Death

We all have that one thing that never fails to put a smile on our face. It could be a stuffed animal, a letter from your child, something you made that you're proud of, a voicemail from a loved one, and in my case... it's this: My dear friend, Andy, made a video for me weeks before he took his own life.

The second anniversary of his death is coming up in less than one month. Because of this, I am gravitating to his video incessantly. I need to be able to see him moving and dancing because it's too difficult for me to think about him being nothing but ashes in this urn.

Our friendship was deep and built over 20 years. We leaned on one another when going through periods of depression, so he reached out to me a lot in the weeks leading up to his death. But I was not there for him. It makes me sick to think about it now. I was so busy with my own problems that I didn't make time for him. 

When I look at these pictures, I see a happy guy. And he probably was happy when these pictures were taken. But if you are familiar with depression, you know how subtle and sneaky it can be. Depression floats in and out of your life, and by the time you realize you are deep in it, you often need help to climb out—it is too hard to do it alone. 

This is the lesson I am taking from Andy's suicide: If you trust me enough to reach out to me when at your lowest and darkest, it is my duty as a friend and fellow human being to listen, be supportive, and remind you of all the reasons you are needed on this planet. It's so easy to look back and see what I could have done differently, but the reality is that it will never be possible.

I am so sorry, Andy. You deserved better.

The Next 24 Hours

This saying has been around for over half a century, most likely. Earl Nightingale (1921-1989) was an American radio speaker and author, dealing mostly with the subjects of human character development, motivation, and meaningful existence.

I love that you can make a career of pretty much anything. If you can dream it, it can happen. "But what if you aren't born into a rich family?" I agree—being born into a favourable environment has its perks and will set you up much better than someone who's been born into poverty and is a minority. Facts are facts, so I won't sit here and pretend that we can all be masters at what we love with the same amount of energy put into getting there. But I think we are all capable of having any job we want. We may not be at the best company, making the most money, or getting the recognition we want, but I think each of us has the potential to decide our fate. 

It takes work, a lot of work. Work that most people don't have the determination, drive, motivation, willpower, or self-confidence to put in. 

You hear of people who've come from nothing and are suddenly household names, owning multiple vacation homes, partying with the rich and the famous and enjoying every great opportunity that exists on this planet. Check out this list of 11 celebrities who were dirt poor before they became famous. 

Some people are born into privilege. Some people are born beautiful. Some people are in the right place at the right time. But that isn't the case for every successful person, and you would be doing yourself a massive disservice if you trick yourself into believing that. 

Why? Because if that's what you truly believe, then you have no chance of becoming the person you want to become.

Look at someone like Steve Irwin, who died doing what he loved. Yes, he died, but I bet he had a more fulfilling life than most of us simply because he did what made him feel alive.

Documentary filmmakers that get to travel the planet and film fascinating animal docs, human stories, or war stories didn't just land that job by chance. They worked for it.

People like The Rock and Arnold Schwarzenegger were massively competitive and thriving in the world of bodybuilding. They weren't born with that physique. They built it, one day at a time. 

These people live very different lives and have very different careers, but successful people have several things in common that the majority of people lack, and now I'll go over a few of them: 

1. They know when to stay and when to leave: If a job isn't adding to their life in any meaningful way, they aren't afraid to go. The "what if?" of the future doesn't scare them into staying in a situation that makes them miserable.
2. Go above and beyond: When you start a job, you are told what your position entails. Successful people complete these tasks and then ask what else they can do. They continually grow.
3. They aren't afraid to fail because they know that failure often leads to success: Failure happens more than success, so it's best to learn how to embrace the setbacks and use them to do better next time.
4. They create their luck: They don't wait around for something good to happen to them, because "good things don't come to those who wait." They make things happen.
5. Goals are attainable: They set goals that they know they are capable of reaching, with very established guidelines and steps. It's not, "I will lose 100 pounds in six months," it's more like, "I will finish this course in the next three weeks by devoting three hours each day to it."
6. Never stop learning: Successful people love to learn whatever they can, from wherever, whoever, and however they can. They like to be inspired and use that inspiration for their personal growth.
7. The journey is what drives them: When you feel like you are doing something meaningful and purposeful, you will continue to do that thing because it is what drives you.

Don't focus on where you want to be in 1, 5, 10, or 20 years from now. Focus on what you'd like to do in the next 24 hours to better yourself and then do that again the next day, and the next, and never stop thinking about the 24 hours in front of you. Eventually, years will pass, and you will be in a place you never thought possible.

I talk about this shit like I know what I'm talking about, but I don't. It sounds legit to me, in any case. Most of us know what the obvious ways to success are, but we, for whatever reason, don't do those things. Maybe use this as a reminder to do the obvious.

Finally, success means more than doing exceptionally well in your career (but that's a massive factor for many of us). Success also includes relationships, hobbies, kids, sports, talents—it's about life and how to achieve true happiness, rather than chase it and never catch it. 

And Then She Bloomed

My writing hasn't been reflective of my mood, and that's an issue for me. Writing is a form of therapy - I don't need an audience, and I don't expect I have one. But, I'd like for my words to match my current feelings. If I were to venture a guess, I'd say my writing has been so negative because I've needed to get rid of all this hostility. Purge to heal. The hurt, pain, sadness, bitterness, anger, hate - it had to come out before I could begin to heal. I stopped writing for years, and now that I'm back into it... the ugliness has been pouring out of me like a dam that broke.

Despite the negativity of my recent posts, I feel the happiest, most hopeful, and most energetic I've felt in years. 

The negativity that I felt towards everything and everyone, it's gone. It's floated away. It's evaporated, almost like it never existed. 

• I wake up smiling, 
• I am interested in how my loved ones are doing, 
• I smile at and talk to strangers, and,
• I have drive, motivation, and energy - which is perhaps the oddest thing about this whole experience because energy is something I've never had enough of. 

Boredom used to be synonymous with Beth, and I was okay with that, because when you have no energy, who cares if you're bored? 

Because I had no energy, I'd recurrently receive texts from family asking if I was okay because they wouldn't hear from me for ages. Reading their texts of concern was exhausting, so I'd ignore them. After a few days, I'd let them know I was alive, just feeling shitty. 

I now have an abundance of energy. I genuinely don't know what to do with it all, and now I find myself getting bored because there isn't enough to do. 

Notwithstanding, nighttime is incredibly hard for me. That's when my anxiety kicks into full gear, and I'm not quite sure why. Maybe it's because the day is over, meaning I need to be still with my thoughts. I'm not comfortable with that yet, but I believe one day I can learn how to be okay with it.

The human brain has a remarkable ability to adapt to unpleasantness. Presently it makes me uncomfortable to be alone with my thoughts, but give it a few weeks, and who knows?

Note to self: VALUE PEOPLE

People need to know they are valued. Value the people in your life that you care about, and do it often. You never know who needs the reminder at that very moment.

Three weeks ago, someone very special to me attempted suicide. He swallowed all his sleeping pills and all his anxiety meds and went for a walk. His walk led him to my front step. I quickly realized he was fucked, so I called 911. The ambulance arrived minutes later. The paramedics strapped him to the stretcher, put him in the back of the ambulance, and intubated him right in front of me. It all happened so fast. They had to transfer him to the hospital so a doctor could pump his stomach. The driving paramedic rolled down his window as he pulled away and said, "Five more minutes... he'd be dead." 

He survived, thankfully. For the last three weeks, he has been a resident of the psychiatric ward at the hospital. He slept for 72 hours straight as the meds left his system. I did not visit him the first day he woke up. I thought I was partly to blame, and seeing me would make him worse. However, the next day, my phone was flooded with texts and calls from his family. He had been asking about me all day and wondered why I was not there. He was furious because I was not there. 

What I should have done from the beginning was be there. It was that simple. He was in crisis. He needed support. My role was simple... just be there.

These days, I do my best to help keep his spirits up, listen to him when he needs to talk, encourage him when he feels down, and let him know I am incredibly thankful he is still around and that if he had died, it would have devastated me.

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I often need reminders of the seemingly obvious things, and in case you are like me in that way, here you go:

People need to know they are valued. Value the people in your life that you care about, and do it often. You never know who needs the reminder at that very moment. 

Vulnerability & Cognitive Behavioural Therapy

Vulnerability is powerful. It can do one of two things. It can bring positivity, or it can bring negativity. When you choose to be vulnerable, it isn't really up to you which result will occur. It's up to the person you choose to be vulnerable to.

By definition, vulnerability is opening yourself up to attack or harm, either physically or emotionally. Vulnerability is fucking hard. The fear of being vulnerable and thus, being exposed, is directly linked to the fear of being rejected, abandoned, hurt, or ignored. 

Think of a time you were vulnerable, and it backfired. Now, think of a time when you were vulnerable, and you received a positive reaction. It feels really fucking good. Vulnerability is a gamble, but most times, I think it's a gamble worth taking.

When I saw my doctor the other day, we talked about vulnerability. We talked about my vulnerability and how it is definitely a positive attribute of mine. Still, I have to be careful with who I share my true self with because I am ultra-sensitive to adverse reactions. 

This conversation led to me saying I wanted to talk to a therapist. I fixate and ruminate, and I create problems that aren't there. When I look to the future, my brain tells me that everything that could go wrong is going to go wrong. He said that what I was describing likely wouldn't be helped by a therapist, but Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT). 

• "CBT works by changing people's attitudes and their behaviour by focusing on the thoughts, images, beliefs, and attitudes that are held (a person's cognitive processes) and how these processes relate to the way a person behaves as a way of dealing with emotional problems."

I've done CBT before, and I loved it. However, I'm unemployed, and I can't afford the $200 bill per session (5-20 sessions are typically recommended). He knows all about my financial situation, so he gave me some app names that have been created so that people can teach themselves CBT techniques. Apparently, multiple studies have been done, and research shows that you don't need someone to teach you CBT. If you are motivated, you can teach yourself. Makes sense to me.

I've downloaded two of the apps, my mom bought me a Mindfulness book as well as a Mindfulness journal, and though it's only been one day, I have caught myself thinking negatively, and then I immediately checked myself. 

My thoughts and feelings are genuine and real, but that doesn't mean I can't have some control or sway over them. If I continuously repeat, "I'm stupid, I'm ugly, I'm stupid, I'm ugly," to myself... guess what my belief about myself will be? However, if I change my inner dialogue, who knows, maybe something positive will come from it.

If you're an anxious person, imagine being able to conquer it. To overcome it, and no longer have it impact every single hour of your day. 

What a beautiful thought.