Dropped My Basket

 

There are two or three happy topics that I would have liked to blog about this week.  But I think a blog should be about keeping it real, yo.  So I am gonna do just that.  Last week after the incredible birth of sweet baby Mason, whose Mama I attended (much more about this exciting event later), I was riding high.  Then something unexpected happened.  A dark corner of my life, long put away all neat and tidy in a picnic basket, and placed on a shelf, popped out to say "hello...I'm baaaaaack!"  

Has this ever happened to you friends?  Maybe you are blessed to not have any life altering events from your childhood.   If so, you are lucky indeed.  Maybe your whole childhood was a series of unfortunate events and you are fortunate that they have never caught up with you in adulthood.  Maybe you did some time in therapy, and said "peace be with you" to those bad memories and pushed them out the door.  But here is what I've discovered.  Those memories are sneaky little buggers.  They like to wait until you are basking in the joy of your happy life, and then they make themselves known.  

I have a dear friend who went through a terrible bout of postpartum depression after the birth of her child.   I think the thing that initially attracted me to her as a friend was her strength.  She went through trauma as a child, her parents divorced, and she lost both of them at a young age.  Amazingly, she waded her way through the muck of grief without therapy or SSRI's!  But after that sweet baby was born, she was crippled by anxiety that left her panting in the middle of the night, heart racing, crying, and wondering if she would ever be herself again. 

She had dropped her basket.  

This week, I dropped my basket.  Thanks to the efficiency of the internet, I was able to find a face that I thought I had forgiven a loooooong time ago.  By all logic, I should have been through with this chapter of my life. I did the work; boy, did I ever!  I did my forgiveness exercise, yelling at an empty chair (awkward for the poor chair).  I gave myself permission to be loved and to be happy.  I stopped punishing the girl who did not deserve punishment in the first place.   I deserve a gold star for what I have overcome.  

But forgiving a chair and forgiving an actual face on a computer screen are two TOTALLY different things, my friend.  I am learning that once those unpleasant psychic doors have been opened, they do not slam shut easily.  Trust me, I tried!! I have been waking up in the morning, face flushed, heart racing, fighting mad.  Why do I have the uncanny desire to punch a whole in the wall of my pretty new house, I wonder?  Why does my head feel like its going to explode all day?  I will spare you the rest of the details.  I kicked and shoved those doors pretty damn hard, and when that failed I tried to pretend they weren't there. 

Last night, I realized that I must stop trying to shut those damn doors.  So I will do the work.  I will pray with friends.  I will seek council.  And I will figure out what to do with that face.  But make no mistake, I will be okay.  Because I am no little girl. I am a strong, wise woman and I am not alone.  

If you are a survivor I would love to hear your voice!