Just like you, I have a voice of wisdom, reason, logic, common sense, knowing, intuition, God - whatever resonates with your personal belief system - but for the vast majority of my life, there is another frequency butting in and drowning out the word I want (and need) to hear. Sometimes the noise of the unwanted station drowns the other out completely - I know it's there, but it can't be heard. Sometimes the station appears clear as crystal. Then it goes again.
I’ve known a lot of homes. An endless cascade of houses where I lay my head and unpacked my bags. A dozen educational institutions where a seat was mine and mine alone, and I found a place to feel belonging and purpose. Friends where no amount of time and distance have separated us, and despite the years in between, a phone call picks up where the last conversation left off. And I’ve found home in my husband and children, when all my world crumbled, grief stumbled in, joy and excitement were too big to contain, they’ve been the place to sit and share and hold me.
The universal human need to be needed. The basic human rights of love, care and acceptance. The intimacy of belonging to community. These are the emotional truths I wish to explore. How my needs, rights and sense of belonging have, and have not, been met. The consequences to me, and to everyone I connect with, from my lack of self-love.
When life falls apart, and everything shatters into a million pieces, and you're not the person you thought, and have no idea how to rebuild yourself, or what a rebuilt life will look like, it's impossible to picture a future. As the recovery process begins - be it through pharmacological, psychological, psychiatric or personal support [...]
It seems like I'm always someone else - or pieces of other people put together. Somehow it's always easier to be someone else.