I'm a Mess.

These three words. Sum up all that I am lately. Which most would not think. I've been kicking ass, project after project, adventure after adventure. I do not stop. 

This is a trauma response. It's not that I just enjoy cleaning my carpets (actually I did a little bit), it's that my brain is so fogged and bogged and troubled that it says do do do do. So that I do not have the downtime to think, to process, to digest. My days are scheduled out so much so that my dog gets weird when we are off schedule. I take my vitamins, I make my tea, I go with the routine. I have a heathy sleep pattern- even with the nightmares. I have re-configured my life to make it so healthy that it would be unrecognizable. Oops, maybe that's the point. 

My life has been so much the product of a trauma event or timeframe of survival. Just this last year I have finally reclaimed my life to be my own, & man was it liberating, empowering, unrecognizable. The feelings I've had these last few months have been foreign to me. Though it looks like I am a poster person for long time therapy and selfceare, I am almost brand new when it comes to healthy therapeutic relationships. But I do not get treated as such. And that is where the conflicting thoughts, process, and the rest that follows comes in. 

My life is newly mine. The investigations are over. The interviews are done, The police are gone, the state investigators absent. Ink on the papers of injustice have dried, & I have been left behind. In the rubble, the damage, the wake of the immensity of all that these traumas entailed. Everyone else moved on & left me standing there, still as a statue. 

So I did just that. Nothing. For awhile. I forgot what would happen when it was all over. I had not connected to any of these devastating traumas. Even childhood events I am just now learning to connect to. But it's time and it's been time. Because too much of my life was taken from me outside of my own control; and that sat heavier on me than any weight of facing it all could. I was determined to not lose out on anything more. 

After typing that, I look up and re-read the description of the inability to sit and do nothing lately and it makes sense. See, writing again is already helping. 

I realized this morning that a wave of sadness has swept through taking me with it. That a cloud of loneliness has found its way over my head. The duality of them both left me in tears for the first time in a long time. 

I was reminded today that this time last year I struggled. And possibly the year before, and undoubtedly the year of my suicide attempt. Which I'm allowed to dive into now. All of it, uncensored. Because nobody can use it against me anymore. But this realization made the sadness hypocritical. Why? This is my favorite time of year, so why does it also make me so sad? Is it that I am wrestling with the years it fed my soul in a good way, which is now long gone? This we will look at closer. 

I am rambling, this I know. But I hold no expectations, and also owe no explanation or ownership over the way I convey this new journey, you simply make the choice to read along or not. So I say it now, do not expect or look forward to the well thought out, magical and metaphorical MRB you once knew. She has died a disastrous death a million times over due to silence. 

I am however, going to greet you with authenticity. I will walk along in honesty, integrity and character. The only expectations here are to show up as I am & nothing else. I will not waver from the values I hold, & will not expect myself to be poised or graceful, so please do me the favor of greeting me with kindness as we venture this together. After all, kindness matters. 

​mrb. 

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