Reposted from a message board comment I made elsewhere today…
Van Gogh, Sorrow
I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about the meaning of “forgiveness.” We talk about this as something we give to the person who has “harmed” us. “I forgive YOU.” But really I think we need to find another word to use because we’ve twisted the word “forgiveness” so badly.
The forgiveness and letting go we need as professional resenters and progressing healers isn’t really about letting the person off the hook and telling them it was OK. In some cases, it absolutely is NOT OK. (As in the case of my molestation throughout my childhood. I did NOT have a role to play in that. You didn’t have a role to play in your trauma either.)
But we need a word besides “forgiveness” that implies wiping the slate of your own heart clean of the pain and sadness and anger that memory still causes you.
Forgiveness isn’t really about the other person. Forgiveness is about freeing YOURSELF so you can live without the shackles that incident has placed on your life, on your ability to be proud and self-confident, on your ability to live your life without something you can’t control playing over and over in your mind and making your stomach and heart and brain grieve and ache and rage all the time.
That’s totally why I drank. It feels so much better to feel nothing than to feel all that sadness and pain.
But if you can find a way to let that shit go and also stop drinking, think of how light your brain and stomach and heart would be! That’s what we need.
(So let me know when you figure out how to do it!)
*Now we all join hands and perform our inspirational, synchronized dance routine to “Let It Go!”*
I was going to fix you.
Give you so much of me that it would patch your broken heart.
You’d be so grateful, you would fall in love with me.
And that would fix me.
But you’re still broken.
I’m still alone.
And you don’t even notice I’m gone.
Maybe I’m the only one who was broken after all.
Reading back over my blog the last few days, I see that nothing has really changed for me over the last year and a half. Meds have kept me from feeling as bad physically (’cause y’all, heartbreak and sadness and depression physically hurt!), but I still whine about and wrestle with all the same things about myself. Is there something I like about feeling like shit and wallowing in so much self-pity?
Why do I have an urge to continue spewing the same problems all over the internet for people to read? It must be exhausting, annoying and incredibly boring to read the same stuff from me over and over.
I do still believe somewhere deep and misguided inside of me that if I share my “this girl is fucked in the head” issues enough, someone will come along, say or do the thing I’ve been missing, and suddenly I will be healed! I’ll be a new person! I will be whole and satisfied – finally!
But I know nobody can fix me – my heart and all the things I hate about myself and my life.
I say that over and over, but I don’t know how to change myself. I don’t even know if I want to change. If I have to change into an extrovert, is that still me? If I LIKE myself am I still me?
Where do you even start trying to change your life? I can’t afford to quit a good job with benefits to go live in the woods in a cabin, chop my own firewood, shovel cow shit and read books. I’m exhausted by the thought of joining groups of people I don’t know. Match.com and eHarmony were a huge disappointment and waste of money. I’m not really interested in anything anymore except church and theology and things I want to control. And I’ve pretty much given up on finding someone to love me because it just hurts way, way too much.
So how do I affect change in myself? How do I even know who I want to be? How do I change the way I think? How do I change my feelings? How do I change all these negative emotions? How do I learn to like myself? How do I learn to feel like this life is even worth living?
Added: I don’t even know WHY I’m so unhappy. That makes it hard to change too.
I’ve been having more vivid dreams lately. I’m not sure if it’s the increase in the dosage of my lamotrigine or if my brain is just full of stuff it needs to chew up.
I woke up this morning remembering three dreams.
In the first dream I was supposed to go to some kind of party like a baby shower or a wedding shower or something civilized and girly like that. I was just going to walk because it was close, but the more I walked through the subdivision, the more lost I got. The houses were big and fancy, but similar enough where every place I walked looked the same. I couldn’t find any landmarks even when I walked through the woods and backyards behind the houses.
The second dream was about my daddy, who in real life died about ten years ago. We were in a house (maybe in that same subdivision from the first dream, I’m not sure) and he and someone else had come in from doing some kind of hard work like yard work or cutting trees or something. Daddy came in and sat down and was having something cold, I don’t remember if it was a drink or ice cream or what. He was talking and laughing with us and suddenly he stiffened and I knew something was wrong. It was like he was having a stroke or something. I jumped up worried while everybody else in the room was joking about it, not thinking anything was really the matter. Then Daddy looked at me and struggled to whisper, “Call an ambulance.”
All the emergency vehicles arrived and the EMTs came in with the gurney. It was so crowded and there were so many colors with all the fire trucks and flashing lights and uniforms of the emergency response guys. I was scared, but Daddy seemed a little better. He told the paramedics, “I had come in from working hard and was having (that cold thing) and suddenly the top third of my brain got squishy.”
What I remember of the last dream is very short. It was the only dream that was black and white. In this one, I was in the dream, but I also seemed to have the consciousness of an outside observer. I saw the action from inside myself, like you do in real life, but I was having observational thoughts from the outside like when you watch a TV show. In this dream I was in the basement conference space where Boo and I work together sometimes. I kissed him goodbye. It was one of those casual kisses you give somebody when you know you’ll see them again soon. The observing me thought, “Oh, this must mean that we’re (they’re) finally in a relationship. Finally!”
Thinking back on the kiss in the dream, it was very much like our last kiss in real life – a peck goodbye without much real meaning.
It’s interesting when I think about these three dreams together. They’re all about loss and desire and searching. These are certainly the major themes of my internal life right now.
But why can’t dreams come with more answers or CliffsNotes or something. I need a more specific guide! Or maybe I just need dreams to come with heart Band-Aids or something that makes me feel nothing at all. Looks like I picked a bad decade to stop drinking.