As I Am

I recently met a friend here on island who took the most special photos of me. They captured my joy, my glow, my confidence in a place still very new. I have since heard comments about how happy I look, how I always look happy, but these photos show my absolute genuine happy self. 

It is nice to finally be somewhere that can reflect that sort of joy.

I think though, that it is a misconception about living here in Hawaii. It’s paradise, it’s my happy place, but I did not just walk off the plane and find my demons to have disappeared. My struggles are still there, just a little different here.

I shared before how I was going to continue therapy while here. I am. Twice a week. One recent session I found myself shutting down, I left my body, couldn’t tell you what I was thinking or feeling. Our session came to an end and with the shut of my laptop I broke down in tears. I could not tell you what happened. For years I have been doing this. I have worked so hard to love myself, to love my body, and for years I have fought the feeling that makes it very uncomfortable to be in this body. My next session she complimented me for how I was able to stay present, but what she did not know was that my legs were shaking rapidly under my desk.

The same week I found myself sleeping a lot, eating less, which has been a noticed pattern of mine when I am starting to struggle. I haven’t felt sad, I told her. But numb, maybe. The ocean is not so far away, but it is up to me to get myself there. It is up to me to say “yes” more even when I feel comfortable under my covers.

The notebook I bought for my class is mostly filled with pages of journaling about the past. I know I will be able to move forward from things, but first I am determined to know exactly what those things are. It is a complicated feeling, getting older and questioning every memory you have. Realizing that your life was not always what it seemed. Realizing that there were many, many, missed signs, and reasons why I feel the way I do today. How did it all go unnoticed? And why is it creeping up now? 

The most recent realization is that I had experienced the effects and symptoms of PTSD as early as 13 years old. It made me weep for little me, who really believed for so long there was something wrong with her. That nobody believed her. A memory from after my heart surgery, where my mom called the hospital because I was seeing things that weren’t there, saying things that weren’t making sense. All these years we thought it was a bad reaction to a medication. Or the anesthesia. I am just now learning it was a flashback, vivid memories, of things that actually happened. 

I’m here in Hawaii. I’m finding myself, I have sun kissed skin, and I have made friends who seem like true friends. I have to admit, things have not been easy as I am making new discoveries. I do not see things as falling apart though. I see things as broken pieces of glass or pieces of a puzzle that I am starting to realize did not fit where I first thought they did. I am becoming Nancy Drew in the story of my own life. It is non-stop. The analyzing, the questioning. I am tired, yet I keep sleeping. You ask me how I feel, and I don’t know what to say. About any of this.

Some days I have to remind myself who I am. I start to believe that I can not trust anything or anyone. I also forget that despite what I have been through, I have made it this far for a reason. I can endure much more than I think I can.

I recently wrote in my journal that I feared vulnerability. How is it that something I love and admire is also something I fear?

It’s vulnerable to love, and to allow others to love you. It’s vulnerable to show up, as you are, and not just as you want to be. It’s vulnerable that I write posts like these, knowing others are looking into my not-so-perfect life.

I forget to take a breath.

I need to breathe, to remind myself of my tiny accomplishments.

Tomorrow is the last day of my summer course. The last day of my first graduate course. I will then have a few weeks of freedom before my fall semester begins. The reality of graduate school is hitting me. The amount of readings, the amount of papers due in 1 week for a single class. I’m learning though, that it is doable. I can do this.

Now that I have more friends here on island, I also can remind myself that these friends were once strangers. I had to push myself out of my comfort zone to make friends, and as much as I love meeting new people- there are nerves that come with it too.

I have only been here a month! I am by myself, I’m doing this thing! I’m applying to jobs, and scheduling interviews for my practicum.

Oh and- this pandemic is still very much a thing. I can not pretend the highly sensitive person in me is at all adjusted to any of this by now. Is anyone?

On hard days when my body wants to sleep, when I break down in tears after a therapy call, when it takes me a little longer to get dressed..

I’m very very hard on myself. I see this to be my life, and I ask myself when it is going to get easier and if 22 will look different than 21. Oh hey it’s my birth month!

I can’t expect to have it together all the time. I can’t expect to define myself by my mental health or trauma, but I also can’t expect to pretend it is something I do not fight with every day.

I always end up finding the right people for me. I always end up finding those who love me just the way I am.

I need to do the same- love myself through it all- as I am.