So, it’s been awhile
It has been some time since I have written a new blog post or told a story. Even looking back now, I cannot believe what has come before and am perplexed by the kind of waxing and waning of my desire to regurgitate it for the internet.
I have had a busy couple of months. Promotion at work, kind of connecting with people but also not really meeting anyone like myself and dealing still with the lingering feeling of the stories I have told you all.
I know my trauma happened, I know that I worked with a therapist to heal much of it, and yet it feels somehow distant from me and somehow like it’s sitting in my living room waiting to tell me something untrue about myself. Not quite the feeling of missing an old friend but certainly missing things that once felt more familiar than anything else. Like the memory, one has of their nose. You cannot actually see it. Oddly enough, I tried it the other day while I was bored, sitting in traffic during an otherwise unremarkable Thursday.
Lately, I have had the peculiar experience of feeling as though I do not want to continue telling those kinds of stories. The thing is though, those stories are important for people to tell and to hear. The truths I have found to be evident remain though and there is something to be found in telling those stories. But I want to tell them in a way that doesn’t treat them like a bad week I had only days ago. I want my stories to be something that I share for the betterment of others and not a self-aggrandizing display of trauma porn. I have tried in every story to tell you all a message of hope at the end. That the terrible thing that happened to me no longer defines me or that I have this somehow ray of sunshine blasting out of my face over how joyful I am that I’m no longer damaged.
But the truth is, I have to move forward with it to varying degrees. I remember watching a Ted Talk, the presenter talked about great loss; she lost a child, her father, and her husband in one year. And while she is remarried, has more kids, and leads an otherwise normal life, her now-departed husband is still a part of her life. She still sees him in many things in her existence. Now, I’m not likening my healed trauma to her lovely husband. I do believe though that the stories must be carried forward.
I cannot simply leave them. There is powerful magic that lies in healed trauma. Like the shattered pottery put back together with veins of gold those stories have been redeemed for something or someone, even if it is just for me.
When I am ready, I will create again. But for now, I must carry my stories, plant them in private, and see how they grow and what I learn from them. I thank you all for reading, encouraging, and just generally being great. I appreciate it.
Kyle
