I see you and I know it's not easy. My own healing isn't easy either. I get it.
There are so many layers to what has happened to us that it only makes sense for there to be a myriad of layers in our healing.
What's worse is society doesn't really make it easy for us to heal - not with messages of not being enough - pretty enough, thin enough, rich enough, smart enough - enough, enough, enough.
And just when you think you're past the worst of it - BAM - the smallest thing brings you right back into hell.
After a seemingly innocuous comment from my mom, I once spent an entire sleepless night whispering my mantra to myself over and over again - I am worthy. I am loved. I am lovable. That was only a few years ago - I'm still knee deep in my healing.
Over and over - the covers pulled up close to give me the feeling of a hug, the lights dim to bring a sense of peace. Over and over and over. My safe place - my husband - crawled in to lay beside me and it wasn't enough. At that moment, only my mantra to myself was what I needed to get through to the other side.
What's your mantra, sweet one? How do you recover when you're transported back to your hell? How do you protect your walls while still letting people in? How do you tenaciously remember that you are worthy, loved, and lovable?
I once thought that someday I would do enough (there's that stupid word again) and I would be healed. I now know that healing is never really complete - we will always have our stories and burdens we carry. Nothing can erase what has happened to us. And that's ok.
We've been to hell and back and we are not alone. Sharing our stories helps us and others heal. There are silver linings if you open your eyes and heart to seeing them. We can't undo what's been done but we sure as hell can learn how to thrive from it.
And that's what I choose to do.
(Most days...because imperfect.)