I am having a series of low days. There is context. It makes sense for me to feel the way I do right now, in the middle of multiple one year anniversaries of fear and pain and body horror.
I almost died. The doctors wouldn’t tell me what was wrong but I was almost gone and I knew it. And then the pain and fear just kept coming. From June to December I parted with bits of myself. I fractured and was put back together, none of it in a way anyone expected. Now, I look at my scars and shake my head not that I am here, but that any of it happened in the first place.
I’ve survived many traumas. I’ve healed and moved forward and found my balance in a world geared against survivors. Then I created a safe space for others like myself. There were hard moments, times when I was triggered and had to step back and honor myself, but I knew how.
Right now I can’t be sure what I need except self care self care self care. I am triggered so easily. My body wants to shut down. But I am a full-time mother. The kind of self care I need has to wait until they are in bed. By then I am often too tired for myself.
As I write this I am thinking of how, yes, I will corral the kids outside and sit in the sun. I will tend my heart garden in little ways, keep myself off the ground or from combusting, again. I’ve arranged additional therapy and kept to my schedule of time by myself outside the home. I know the tricks to getting well. I’m on my way. But it’s a painful slog and I want to lay down but I will wait until there is someone to give me a hand so I can get back up.
I know many of you have been here. I honor your battles even as I sound my own cry. We are, all of us, warriors.