11) Something that you think holds you back.
I am the all-time and reigning Queen of NOT Just Letting Shit Go.
And the worst part of it…? Is I am much better now at letting go than I have been at any point previously in my life…
Isn’t that sad?? ((heavy sigh))
But I hold on to everything, although to outsiders it probably looks like I only hold on to the bad…
But that’s not true.
You see… I’m an odd sort of creature.
I talk about the bad times, the pain, the hurt, the abuse, the neglect, the betrayal…all of it, because I believe that in speaking the words and confronting the memories that I find some degree of freedom and healing.
You don’t give something power by NOT speaking of it.
If you are afraid to say it out loud…?
Then you are afraid of IT. And you are a slave to it. It holds power over you, not vice versa.
I was so giddy to see J.K. Rowling understood that.
You see that is why she has everyone but Harry call Voldemort, “He Who Must Not Be Named.” Because if you are afraid to name someone or something, you fear it. It holds power over you.
That’s one of the reasons, sadly, I never say my rapist’s name. Not like EVERYBODY doesn’t know who he is…! But I fear him. Even now. Going on 2 years and over 800 miles distance between us, I FEAR HIM…so I don’t say his name. I can’t. It’s triggering.
So I used to talk about the things I had suffered…the horrific things I had experienced…because I wanted to PROVE that none of it had power over me anymore. I could say it. I could face it. That meant I had power over it…or so I thought…
But it’s not that simple or straightforward…nothing ever is.
They say that when you can tell your story and it doesn’t hurt…? You’ve healed.
I take it a step further. When you no longer feel compelled to tell your story to any and everybody…? That’s when you’ve healed.
And that’s the point where I am now.
I no longer wear my heartbreaks or suffering on my sleeve like a badge of honor.
I no longer beg people to listen to me and care.
Frankly, I don’t care whether you care about what happened to me. Your opinion…? Does not validate (or invalidate) my existence, so I have no need and no want for it. Think whatever you please… It’s still a free country. Enjoy it while you can.
But because I no longer talk about the things that used to be the focal point of my diary when I was younger, people sometimes think I’ve let go…
Meanwhile, the people who actually know me are quietly giggling in the corner.
Oh yeah. They know better.
I never let go of anything.
And yes…that holds me back in a terrible way.
It may (or may not) surprise you to learn that not letting go of the good…? Is actually more harmful to me in trying to move forward than not letting go of the bad.
And again…those who know me are solemnly nodding their heads and all thinking the exact same name…
Oh yeah. You know who… No. Not HIM. The other one… Yeah. You got it. GOLD STAR.
I don’t speak about the good though…because it feels so fragile… I feel the need to protect it. To horde my happiness.
People (not EVERYONE, ”people” in a general sense) are assholes, dude.
They WANT to see you having a fucking meltdown. And they’re judgmental pricks who think they know everything from reading two sentences in an online journal.
No. Just fucking NO, thank you.
But I am getting better at letting go.
Much better, actually.
And Dr. Reed has been a very big part of that.
It’s still something I struggle with, and probably will to some degree or another for the rest of my life…
But hopefully a smaller degree.
Let go. Go on.