Processing the Pile

16 years. 37 years. 40 years. Months. Time doesn’t heal all. That saying that time heals all is not true. Processing heals and that takes time. But time alone doesn’t heal all. And maybe some things never heal. It certainly doesn’t go back to what it was like before.

My dreams have been potent and glaring. Dreams about people and events that I had waited for time to heal. And it never did.

I hid. I ran too. I hid and ran behind work. Until that also crashed down on me. The pile of unprocessed trauma has been an growing wave, getting heavier and heavier, crashing down on me. I grew stronger each time, getting back up, each time looking more each time like I was capable. But the truth was, I hid my limp. I hid the wounds. I hid how they held me back. Not out of pride, but out of fear. I did not want to be the last wounded gazelle that the predator picks out.

It’s not to say what I built and led were not meaningful- they absolutely were. But even they couldn’t heal me. They weren’t meant to.

I’ve since worked on/been working on letting go of identifiers that hold me back, and pride of achievements. I rarely ever felt proud each time I “achieved” something. And that was because it just meant I needed to find the next thing to build on. To do.
To hide with.

These past some years, I’ve been facing myself in a different way. Not being so busy that I exhausted myself so I could fall asleep. Not building empires so I could feel safe behind them. I’ve reluctantly let there be empty space so I can see you. You- all the wounded parts of me I never faced. And it’s happening.

I know most of my friends don’t understand what I’m going though. Complex-Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (C-PTSD). I don’t really even understand it in its entirety. It’s just what my therapist and doctor have told me me is happening to me to describe what I’m going through. A name to the waking nightmares and debilitating triggers. I desperately hope it's a point to work to find freedom from...to heal.

Writing here. Putting it out in the world, feels vulnerable. It is vulnerable. I’m hoping it will help me stop running. It’s out there- parts of me are wounded and fucked up. I know. You, whoever you are that’s reading or has the potential of reading, knows. Nothing to hide now. While I don’t expect many to visit my very personal blog except those who really care to look for this site...likely people who know me personally, but the possibility that strangers and others can see this is part of my healing. My coming out is that I am just as human as anyone- I feel small and fucked up at times. So small and fucked up that it makes me feel utterly alone and worthless. I don’t always feel this way. Other times I feel joyful, fun and contributive. I feel and move through the range of the human experience- just like anyone can, whether or not they do.

The duality of the human- of me- is I can be more than one at any given time. Grieving and grateful. Happy and wistful. Scared and hopeful... I can feel more than just two feelings at a time.

The dreams... the deep processing dreams. The waking nightmares. They are coming in like a stack unordered overdue filing . Events from when I was 2 all the way to now.

The top of the pile is S. It’s been 16 years and I never grieved the end of a significant relationship for me. More so, I never processed what happened to and the experience inside me. I fell in love with S. He made me laugh like no one had and opened up parts of me that I couldn’t express before. But he also terrified me. He could be mean and downright cruel. Dangerously cruel. He would put me in high-risk situations or make innocuous situations risky. He seemed to need control and I was easily there...and I was young and naive. Yes, he had some pretty rough experiences and likely faced unprocessed trauma himself... but they bled onto me, and probably anyone he would be with. And I wasn’t perfect by any means. I’m sure I’ve hurt him too but I was never malicious. I’ve come to believe he was. I don’t know why - That is one of the hooks embedded in me. Why? I’ve spent the last 16 years trying to heal all the ways he hurt me. I brought up all sorts of other traumatic events in my life with my therapist, but never him for some reason.

When I saw him a month ago in at my favourite local restaurant, my heart sank and my body panicked... I bolted out and then froze when I got in my car. I rocked myself back and forth- my hands were shaking. I couldn’t drive. Later, I confirmed he had moved here. Especially being that I was already in a really rough shape, the information floored me. I was scared to go out of the house for a month. I still look around wondering if he’s behind me. I have been looking around for him for 16 years. By now, I’ve also told myself that this is trauma and he’s not really there. Except now he is. Here.

But what am I scared of? 16 years later. He isn’t actively in my life. But he never left my mind, or past. And not in the nice way. Over the years, the feelings of fear grew. And I wanted to run further and further from it. But how do you run from your mind?

I thought that time would heal me. It didn’t. I thought achievements would heal me. They didn’t. I thought love and relationships with other people would heal me. They didn’t.

Then the dreams came. First hauntingly... until the one where I turned around and faced him. But what I faced surprised me. It wasn’t the terror of being abandoned in the backcountry with no gear or direction, something he’s threatened me before. It was facing that while I was terrified of him and had to face the damage of the experiences with him, I also had to face all the love I had for him that allowed him to have a grip over me. I had to grieve the me I lost and never saw again, and never will.

Perhaps this comes up now because I’m in a similar state now. Different person, different relationship, over a decade later. I don’t believe this time, that it was malicious, but it was still deeply impactful and hurt me in profound ways. I lost myself in this relationship. The self I painstakingly built up little by little after S. I remember the street corner I sat at when I told myself I’m back at square zero and I had to get to square one. I was jobless, isolated, and utterly depressed at that time. And I very slowly rebuilt myself. I had to relearn and rediscover who I as, and what I liked. I couldn't even remember how I liked my eggs.

The recent relationship was one that perhaps many didn’t understand because the logistical format didn’t match common societal relationship structure. It was in a consensual non-monogamous relationship...but those are just formalities of explaining something “non - norm”. For me, it was love and I treated him as a partner, just as true as any. It was real to me. Even if it wasn’t considered real to anyone else, even him, it was real for me. It’s not just the loss of the relationship that I’m grieving. I’m also grieving the loss of me, and what happened to me in it.

The human experience. We most hurt people we love. In closeness and vulnerability, we have the ability to hurt or heal each other. Beautiful and weighted at the same time. I think it’s amazing how we can change each other’s lives... perhaps scary too, but more so amazing.

Sometimes, especially when it all is too overwhelming, I have wished it would all go away... not feel like this. I’ve felt like this recently. A lot. So I dissociate. Not intentionally... my body just shuts down and while it isn’t relief, it’s numbing. But also with not feeling the rough and raw parts also means I don’t feel the the joys and beautiful feelings either. Ultimately, I do want to experience life. I do want to feel it all. I want to fall in love, be inspired and notice the beauty of life and I can’t do that without not just seeing but feeling the pain, sorrow and losses. So it’s a juggle, a struggle, and a challenge.

I’m trying my best to heal. What else can I do? I am grateful for the stable loves I do have in my life...from people with varying amounts of time they’ve been in my life. I’ve learned that amount of time does not correlate with depth or quality of the relationship. It’s not to say there isn’t relevance as we need to spend time with each other to build the closeness, depth and quality of relationships. It’s both - taking the time and the intentional effort in how we use that time.

So I’m committing to using this time I’ve been given now to heal. I can’t run away from the past or pain thas has been agonizing me. It’s time while I actually have the container to do it in a safe space and with support. I haven’t had a chance til now.

At the same time of feeling the sadness and des pair, I’m so grateful and feel fortunate to have the love I do have in my life. My partner and best friend M who has shown me utter acceptance and love. I’ve never met anyone who has loved so freely. He has taught me that true confidence is not proud at all; it’s knowing who oneself is and isn’t, and accepting it. It’s loving even when he doesn’t like it or it’s uncomfortable. I’ve witnessed him in true compersion - truly happy without strings attached when I experience love in my life. I see him truly wanting me to find other poeple and partners that love and treat me well, and willingly adjusts our home and lives to accommodate the people (partners, friends, family) I have in my life without expecting back from them. He clearly expresses and informs me of what he needs so I can love him well, and we can both support each other in being the best versions of ourself. I am in awe of his love and so lucky to have him in my life.

I am so fortunate and grateful to have friends that are close, open and supportive. We may not always understand each other, and we sometimes have conflict too- but we repair and grow together. Having them show up when I need them, especially when I don’t have it in me to ask for help, has been healing. I need repeated experiences of people showing up, especially right now, and especially when they say they will. And people have shown up. It’s funny though,... the people who show up may not be the people I thought would a year ago. And people I thought would show up a year ago, may not show up now. I’ve learned that when my mom passed. It takes wanting to show up, knowing how to and having the capacity to, to show up.

As I am in my own battle to heal my body, mind and soul, I find my gratitude in love. Love that heals.