Posted in Being Vulnerable

Lost Connections- Johann Hari

Thank you, Johann, for validating my experience through your research and brilliant journalism.

My anxiety and depression is not due to a chemical imbalance or a vitamin deficiency and after many years of therapy, I finally know this to be true.

But to be honest, reading Johann also explain this truth through science just makes my heart sing.

I am not alone.

Posted in Being Vulnerable

It’s not about blame

Another lesson in therapy.

It’s not about blaming your parents for your pain or blaming your religion or culture or anything.

Blame actually doesn’t help.

It feels good.

Yes.

But it doesn’t heal the wound.

And that’s something I’m having to continue to remind myself.

Because I come from a long line of blamers, similar to Brene Brown.

I’m so comfortable with blaming others because I didn’t witness much accountability as a kid, let’s be honest.

So of course I want to blame you.

Because I watched you blame him or her and think that was okay.

And I’m sure you want to blame me too.

But like I said, it doesn’t help the healing process.

What helps for me is talking about my pain.

Connecting with others about our mutual pain.

And hearing someone say, me too.

That shit heals.

So that’s another reason why I share.

Because I want to fucking heal.

I don’t want to continue to be this angry, bitter Betty who thinks her family fucked her up.

I want to be free from this pain.

I want the wounds to scar over and stop itching for Christ’s sake.

I’m tired of the anger.

-B.

Posted in Being Vulnerable

Therapy 18.10

Why do you think he’s with you?

Me listing my reasons…

Silence…

Therapist: You forgot to mention because he loves you.

Me: Laughs awkwardly…and then realizes why…

I have never felt a love like his and am so overwhelmed and in disbelief by it that I try to avoid it.

Who would love me, I think?

A girl with so much baggage.

He would, she says.

He would.

Posted in Being Vulnerable

Living with him

I was always afraid of who I would encounter, Jekyll or Hyde.

And now as an adult, I still don’t trust him or anyone.

I’m always wary.

Searching for the monsters in your closet.

I don’t believe anyone’s pure.

So show me your monsters before I find them myself.

-B.

Posted in Being Vulnerable

Dino mite

When I was a kid, I loved being weird and eccentric.

I once put all my winter clothes on at once and waddled out of my room saying, “I’m a snowman.”

Or I use to drip ocean mud on my legs at the beach until I was all covered up and say, “I’m the mud monster!!!”

In high school I use to skip down the halls and sing.

In university I use to compete with my friends about who got the highest score in our finance class and make dad jokes about it.

I’ve always been somewhat of a rebellious weirdo.

I’ve never wanted to be super cool.
Yeah I’ve wanted to fit in, but more importantly I wanted to be accepted for who I was.

And when I couldn’t find a group who would accept me, I’d usually just go searching in the library.
My people are always in the library.

So what I’m saying is, I like this about me.

And I’ll never stop being the onesie wearing weirdo who loves unicorns.

Because that’s me.

-B.

Posted in Being Vulnerable

Anger is just the beginning

Don’t I know I have a problem with anger!

But lately I’ve been realizing its not a problem.
It’s a symptom.
Yes, I’m angry.
Yes, I was hurt.
But now what?
What am I going to do with that anger?

Will I let it sit and fester?
Because I’ve tried that and let me tell you, it does not feel healing. It feels like it’s tearing me apart limb from limb while I suffocate under water.

Will I let it fuel me?

Yes.

Yes,  I will.

My anger toward injustice and inequality and obviously the lack of awareness around mental health is fueling me.

It is fueling me toward more education, more compassion toward other victims and more love toward myself.

Anger can fuel, but it cannot heal.

So if you’re seeking to be healed, please know the path doesn’t stop at anger.

It begins there.

-B.

Posted in Being Vulnerable

Love

It’s funny, I’ve always liked graffiti.
I know I grew up with a father who sees it as trashy, disrespectful and dirty, but I have never seen it that way.
I see it as a treasure hunt.
I see secret messages on walls, trains, bridges and think, “the universe is speaking to me. What is it trying to say?”

So when I saw this message, I knew immediately how I felt.

I felt the universe telling me to choose love.
Choose loving yourself.
Choose loving others.
And especially choose loving others you disagree with.

Now, this doesn’t mean love without boundaries.

Definitely not.

This means, love yourself first. Hence, respect and honor your boundaries first, then love those around you.

Once I decided to make this choice, I felt a whole lot lighter.

Because loving others without loving yourself first doesn’t work, does it?

-B.

Posted in Being Vulnerable

Connection in conversation

Ya I completely understand where you’re coming from.
People who are mean are easy to hate and it’s comfortable to hate them. But when we choose to be uncomfortable and see that their pain is derived from all our own pain, the pain of thinking we’re unlovable and unworthy of belonging, then it becomes easier to be empathetic toward them.

But empathy is a skill set. And the only way to practice empathy is to be vulnerable with ourselves first.
If we’re not kind to ourselves, how do we expect to be kind to others?

-B.

Posted in Being Vulnerable

Dear dad

I know now the pain you grew up with was unimaginable.
Your brother’s suicides.
Your dad’s expectations around work ethic.
Having children at 21.
Living through two economic recessions.
Putting us through private school.

And the whole time not having the language to say, “I am scared of being vulnerable. I have been taught my whole life to be strong and to not show weakness. I have been bullied, mocked and betrayed. I am, therefore, not equipped to sit with your emotions. I love you, but I don’t know how to tell you so instead I worry about you all the time. I worry so much that I scare you and I am sorry for that. Your emotions matter and I wish I had the capacity to tell you that. You are worthy of love and belonging.”

-B.