Posts in Personal Growth
Entering My New Chapter

2024 is ending, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it has been my favorite year in a long while.

While it contained its own stressors, overall I feel so good to be at this stage in my life.

I love my home, I love my little life and “fur family” I have created with Aly, and I love my routine. On weekends, I look forward to the weekdays. I look forward to my weekly therapy appointments, and I look forward to my job. Stability and consistency has been so good for me, and most of my life never looked this way.

For a while I have viewed my life in chapters. I am a visual thinker, and I see the stages of my life as a linear process, and a new chapter with a new theme.

Recently I told my therapist that I believe I am in a new chapter of my life. She asked me what it is called. I told her that it didn’t have a name, but that it’s a really important chapter.

For the past 4-5 years my life has been associated with healing C-PTSD and depression. I’ve done SO much trauma work. I give myself a huge pat on the back for the intensity of the therapy I engaged in to work through some really dark stuff.

This past year, things have calmed down. Less flashbacks, no depressive episodes, no more depersonalization or derealization. Anxiety used to be an every day experience, and it’s not anymore. Not to the same extent, and not very often.

It was unfamiliar, and the unfamiliar can be scary. What does this mean that I used to have flashbacks and now I don’t? This should be a good thing. Feeling far removed from my trauma almost makes it harder for me to feel validated that it is real.

I talked about that in therapy a bit too, but now I am able to acknowledge that my trauma will always be my truth- even if it isn’t running my life.

 
 

This year’s theme was a continuation of something I was starting to come to terms with last year: I have masked a lot of struggles for too long.

This led to different assessments from July- October and receiving a diagnosis that actually explained a lot more than trauma had.

There was validation in this, but it’s not all “yay”. I had an idea of what my story was up until this point, and now I’m looking back and rewriting that story in a more accurate way. I’m left with grief that a big part of my experience and struggles were missed as a kid when I could have received support. I’m left with imposter syndrome, as I don’t fit the stereotyped traits that the world believes I should have. I now have a name for things I resented about myself since childhood.

However, I am also learning about this name through positive resources. It has corrected my negative self-perception as the topic is not as taboo as back then. I am finding community. I am also accommodating myself, and educating myself and others. I am embracing and appreciating the qualities I have, rather than trying to fight them.

I last wrote about self-acceptance, and a big part of accepting myself comes from understanding myself.

I don’t want to do things that most people my age like to do, and that’s okay. I’m tired of pushing away the things that made me happy as a kid because I told myself I needed to “grow up”. I want to prioritize my needs, even if they are different from others. I want to listen to my body, and say “no” when things don’t feel right for me. I want to enter the spaces that accept me, and leave the spaces that don’t. I want to embrace my comfort items. I want to bring back my American Girl dolls, keep sleeping with my teddy bear at night, and talk to my imaginary friends when I need to sort out my thoughts. In the past, I would have been embarrassed to say that. I needed them then, and I still benefit from them now.

I don’t need to force myself to fit into places that I wasn’t meant to fit into. I don’t have to feel inadequate because I think and communicate differently than others. Many things are really hard for me, but I also have many strengths.

Last holiday season I was very overwhelmed and sad. This year I am limiting the events I attend, taking quiet space when I need it, and finding time for the little joys of the holiday season that are more comfortable for me.

These changes sound so easy and simple, but I have never done these things with intention.

I feel lighter, I am thinking clearer, and I’m not using up as much energy anymore fighting against my challenges.

These challenges were never less important than my PTSD, and I should never have treated them that way.

For 2025, I don’t have any resolutions or goals. I want to take things day by day, week by week, and see how this “new me” evolves. I have a feeling it’s actually not new at all. This is who I’ve always been, and who I’m supposed to be.

I’m really really proud of myself. It is such a good feeling to have reached this place.

 
 
Why is Self-Acceptance So Hard?
 
 

When I was young I developed this habit where I would close my eyes really tight when I thought of something I didn’t want to remember. Most of the time, it was related to something I said or did that embarrassed me, or how someone else at school treated me.

At this point in my life there is nobody bullying me but myself. I sometimes find myself straining my eyes closed at my work desk when I’m feeling hard on myself. In front of me are all of these positive messages from my friends/coworkers, but in these moments I’m too absorbed in my shame to look.

I wrote this in a support group recently:

“All of my life I have felt like an alien, like I don’t fit in this world or among others. And I’m realizing after my late-diagnosis that I still have those feelings among the autistic community. Can anyone relate to this? I have people I can relate to, and yet, I feel like I don’t belong. I wish I could stop seeing “there’s nobody else like me” as a bad thing.”

I received many comments from people confirming that they feel the same way. It was reassuring to know that I wasn’t alone in this, but I’m also a problem-solver and it has bothered me that I haven’t figured out how to change this within myself.

I read positive quotes, I write myself letters to build myself up, I attend therapy, I surround myself with good people. How can I make self-acceptance stick in my brain?

When you’ve had this habit for so long, it’s not easy to change. I’ve made progress, and that is worth something. It helped me to understand neurodivergence because I saw myself in a new light. There was nothing wrong about me, my brain just works a different way. However, there are people who do feel and think similarly to the way I do. I don’t want those people to feel alone either.

It’s hard to feel good about myself at work sometimes. I’ve needed a lot more accommodations, and while I’m grateful to have them, I also feel like I shouldn’t have them. I feel like this is temporary and that one of these days I need to give them up. I feel like these things make me stand out, and not in a good way.

When it comes to advocating for yourself, you first have to realize you’re worthy of it. You then have to find courage to ask for it, and then you accept the ways you are accommodated. I believe there is another piece to this. There is guilt, there is imposter syndrome, internalized ableism, and comparing yourself to everyone else.

This year I made progress in recognizing, “this is why this is hard for me!” instead of “why can’t I do this?” When I compare myself to others, or struggle at work, I hear the voice again that says “you should-”. “you should be able to do this” “you should suck it up” etc etc.

Haley! Be kinder! Haley, give yourself grace! Haley, it’s ok to be exactly how you are.

When things are hard, it doesn’t always mean I have to change. It might just mean I have to accept those parts of me.

Recently I celebrated 150 days of no added sugar. That was something that was entirely self-determination and the work began in my mind. Sometimes you have to want something badly enough before you can make a change happen. If I was able to make the commitment to quit sugar, it has to be possible to attain more self-acceptance and self-compassion. I know it isn’t that simple to make it happen overnight. I know I might not be able to do this entirely on my own.

I may feel different, and I may always feel that way, but it doesn’t mean that everyone else is completely ordinary. Everyone has their gifts and struggles and not all are visible. Mine are visible to me. At the end of day, I’m the one at my desk with my eyes tightly closed. I’d like to leave them open a bit longer.

 
 
opening contact after going no contact

Estrangement: There is no right way to do it

Months ago I made a decision to go no contact with a family member. I was grieving and the heartbreak was so intense I was physically sick and sobbing daily for over a month. It was my choice, but it still was excruciating. I could not listen to a song that reminded me of them. I would watch a show that we both love and wish I could talk about it with them. I would have a great day at work and want to give them a call. It just wasn’t worth the unhealthy cycles and how many times it prevented my own healing.

I wrote about this before, so I am not going to make that the focus of this post. This post is about opening contact.

Months ago I told myself I was going to eliminate all contact with the possibility that things could change down the road. I did not have a specific time in mind. The decision was intended to be a “forever.” This was all dependent on if the boundary would be respected, if changes would occur, and when I would open the door on my own terms.

There is no right way to go no contact. Likewise, there is no right way to open contact.

Recently I opened that door. It started with cracking open that door. It felt like putting my foot in water to see if my toe would get bit off. It began with a situation where I had no choice to open contact in a serious matter. I made it clear that speaking in that moment didn’t mean everything would be back to “normal” now. Not that anything was normal before..

In the early months of cutting contact, my boundary was not respected, but months went by and I noticed the silence finally became consistent. They proved to me that they would give me my space, and my guilt and grief diminished. I could go on with my life a bit easier.

A big change happened not too long ago. I reached out willingly to acknowledge a holiday even though I wasn’t attending. At first I felt guilty. Notice how I was guilty for cutting contact, and then I became guilty for opening contact? I was worried I was betraying myself, but I started to see it with a new perspective. This was different. I was making this choice on my terms, the same way I chose to cut contact. I was making this choice knowing this person understood that they had to earn a place in my life, and understood that I will do what I need to do going forward.

This person surprised me when they did not guilt-trip me for my absence. They never brought up the holidays I missed or made the focus on their emotions. They simply appreciated that I was talking to them in that moment. It has nothing to do with reward or punishment, but for lack of better words it taught them that respecting my boundaries is all I ask for. If they did that, I would show them they could have even a small place in my life.

Where we are at now: There is still a distance between us. I saw them recently and it wasn’t as hard as I thought. I didn’t avoid them, we were civil, we were communicating, but it felt very appropriate and boundaried. Things still feel distant, there is a clear separation, but in a good way. I see it more as I have my life and they have theirs. This is working for us. I feel content.

This person also communicated to me how during the no contact, they did a lot of reflecting. It didn’t seem like times before where I received an apology and then they would do the same hurting again. Again, this wasn’t about punishment, but by cutting them out, I gave them the time to look inward. They were unable to do this when I was still present.

Life is messy and I kind of had to live in gray.

I couldn’t see it this way at first, but I needed to tell myself that if I resumed communicating with them, it didn’t mean that I was weak or I don’t have willpower, or that I am absolving them of their actions. I also needed to tell myself the opposite, that eliminating all contact didn’t make me a bad person.

I guess I needed to make a conscious decision which said, “you know, I am going to maintain these relationships in whatever way makes sense or works for me.”

If I live on this little island of good, and it’s because I need it, then I don't think that it has to mean all of those other things.

Once I felt more confident in my own ability to set an emotional (and physical) boundary, it hasn’t been as hard or scary to interact with them, because I know that they’re not going to be able to move the core of me.

How I lived the past months was where I was at right there and then. This is where I am right now. It doesn’t mean there is a permanent change. It simply means I have proved to myself that I can set and maintain boundaries, I can express and believe my worth, but despite it not being easy I will be OK.

Every relationship and story is different. This is my story about one person, where my stories with others I have lost contact with are different. This is why there is no “right” way to go no contact. Going no contact is about what is right for you as an individual based on your experience. I am still exploring what this means for me, but I do know no matter what I must give myself grace for wherever I am at.

 
 
Moving and Relationship Growth

There have been so many changes that have happened so quickly. I moved back to the city, and I moved with my girlfriend Aly! This post will share our little journey in a short amount of time.

I have had 7 bedrooms in my life (not including dorm rooms). I have moved every year since graduating college. I always intended to be somewhere at least a few years, but life would happen. I have wanted more than anything to be in a place that feels like I’m finally “home”. Bouncing around after a year’s lease makes it impossible to feel settled. I used to love change, and exploring new places to live. I have grown to recognize that the changes were fun at the time, but now feeling grounded in my environment is important to me. My PTSD is worse with moving. Packing my belongings into boxes, organizing a plan for getting my furniture out, and then unpacking in a new place is all overwhelming. It can take me a while to make my home feel like my safe place. Last year, I moved to be closer to work. I had a 10 minute drive, and it made my life so much easier. On days I was dissociating at work, or my arthritis was bad, it was so helpful to have my bed be right around the corner. I grew to love my apartment, and the very small town and community.

Something was missing though. I wasn’t happy living alone anymore. Aly and I have been ready to live together for a while, but it couldn’t work with our jobs being so far away from each other. Come December, Aly became motivated for a change. She was worried, understandably, but decided to apply to jobs in a city closer to me. This would mean that we could live together! It was surreal that it was finally happening. I’m so happy for her for taking the leap, as starting a new job can be intimidating. We blinked, and then March 15th was our move-in day.

Even the best changes can have some rough adjustments..and that is certainly what I’m going to share here.

If you have been following my blog, some things you have likely learned about me is that aside from having trauma, I’m a pretty anxious human, and can be kind of a loner. I have lived my entire life surviving by my alone time. In my childhood, that is how I coped. I would be alone with my creativity, passions, and imagination. I was never bored being alone. I knew how to have fun alone. I have always had good people in my life, but I also have a learned habit of having time to myself at the end of the day. I am familiar with being in my own thoughts. I am familiar with quiet. This is something very important to me, and it was a little scary to imagine the idea of not being alone. I thought about how depression and trauma are parts of my life. Sometimes I just feel sad, and need to cry. Sometimes I just need to feel it, without talking about it. Aly has seen me in these times, but she hasn’t truly lived with it. I had this anxious thought of, “Am I someone that someone would want to live with?” Even when we know something rationally, it can be easy to have those worry-wart thoughts creep in. I didn’t need to worry about these things, because Aly already knows, and she already accepts and loves me for me.

Before the move, my brain had been in so many places that it was hard to keep up with my blog. Aly was navigating the uncomfortable feelings of changing jobs and leaving her friends, and I was navigating the idea of moving from a place I felt comfortable, and having a farther commute from work again. I wholeheartedly believe that our anxiety had to do with how fast the move was coming, and not at all that we were not ready for this next step. I didn’t even realize how it was affecting me until I talked in therapy about leaving my apartment. I joked about how I was going to miss it. She said, “you really felt safe there”, and I unexpectedly started to fight tears. I told her I didn’t want to cry. She told me it was OK if I did, but I really wanted to focus on the excitement of living with Aly. I later realized that my emotions around leaving that apartment actually did not have much to do with loving it. Leaving my apartment was like leaving a therapy room. I was leaving a space that held all of my tears, flashbacks, depression spells. It was a safe place, but it also was a container for my wounds, and my healing. It was actually healthy, and it was closure for me to leave it.

Where we live now, is not new to me. I lived here before, and I loved it when I had! I have been so excited to move back and to now build new memories with Aly. We had this idea that within our first week of moving we would have friends over, we would go out in the city, and we would enjoy the week before Aly’s first day of work. However, our first 2 weeks did not go as planned.

We both got sick. Aly had a sinus infection starting from move-in day, and then I had covid not long after. Due to this, we hadn’t fully unpacked as soon as we would have liked. Our initial weeks were spent staring at boxes and looking for a couch. We were having anxiety that we were living in an apartment that looked like a storage room. My experience living alone gave me my own routine. I had my own belongings to worry about, and they all had their place. I wanted this new apartment to immediately look like my last one, and I wasn’t anticipating how much stress the clutter was giving me. We reminded each other that we had been sick, and that the place will be done and decorated soon enough. We started experiencing more chaos. My car was vandalized. Someone has been neighborhood hopping, throwing rocks at windows but not stealing anything. I was one of the unlucky ones, and I needed my rear windshield replaced. Before my windshield was fixed, I had a panic attack in the middle of the night. Aly held me and asked what was wrong. I told her it was stupid, but she encouraged me to say it anyway. I was panicking about my car, and the apartment being messy. We talked it through, she reassured me it will all work out, and then I was able to fall asleep. It probably had little to do with both of those. We were so tired. It had been a lot of stress for a both. New city, new home, and I’m not trying to be negative- but it was a lot of bad luck. For Aly, she also got a parking ticket, and then ended up in the ER. It was almost becoming humorous. Like, what next?

Our neighborhood is adorable, but we knew that our apartment would need a lot of love. It has grown on us, but initially it was easy to recognize its flaws. It’s older. We have already contacted the landlord due to several things needing fixing. Our bedroom and living room are nice and cozy, but the kitchen feels like a basement with cement floors, and no windows. We have been working with what we have. With limited storage space and no room for food, Aly assembled a large kitchen cabinet. I decided our kitchen needed something bright and happy, so we turned it into a lemon theme. My therapist surprised me with a housewarming gift; lemon salt and pepper shakers, and a lemon print dish towel. I wasn’t expecting it, not that I should have. It was something so thoughtful, and I imagine it had to do with the sessions I spent feeling silly stressing about wanting the apartment to look better. I didn’t realize how much my environment impacted my peace. It has had a great transformation. I love coming home, and I’m proud of our hard work despite the challenges.

We are enjoying the little things. I love waking up and coming home to Aly. I love having dinners with her. I even love doing her laundry, compromising on what chores we do such as dishes and taking out the trash. I love her company. I love sitting on our couch together (now that we have one), and deciding on what movie we watch. We spent one day this past week walking on a trail and something as small as going for a walk in our new neighborhood felt like so much fun.

My drive to work may be longer, but my drive to therapy is shorter. My life has not changed so much. I still see my friends at work, and I have actually moved closer to some of my other friends. I do not have to drive far most days of the week, as I work from home as well. Living in my comfort zone served its purpose at the time. I needed that environment to create peace for myself. Sometimes, we need a comfort zone and there is nothing wrong with that. Though, a comfort zone can grow old. I wasn’t gaining anything there, and Aly believed the same to be true about where she was. It was hard to only see each other on weekends. I was also so isolated, and I now am back living in a place where I can branch out. I recently walked to the store, because things are close enough where I don’t have to drive. I felt free.

I have always been comfortable with my solitude, and staying in my shell. Aly knows I am an introvert. She knows I may need my alone time. It helps that we can live together, and also meet each other’s needs. Right now, as I’m typing, she is on the other side of the couch watching a show. When I’m done, I won’t be alone. I do know that she is being very patient, but is ready for me to be done so she can talk my ear off! It’s these things as well, that make me happy.

There is a joke that lesbian/same-sex couples “U-Haul”, and move-in at a faster pace. I’m not going to say that our relationship didn’t grow quickly, but this stereotype would have others see it “rare” that we have gone this long without living together. It weirdly feels like an accomplishment. Living away from each other hasn’t been easy, but we made it work. We respected that we both liked where we were living and working, and we were not going to make a change until we were ready. We have been with each other long enough to know each other’s joys, pet peeves, needs. The time before living together gave us the opportunity to learn who we are as individuals in addition to who we are as a couple. There are no surprises, and we know how to navigate the hard times. Even though we have wanted to live together sooner, I believe this pace has benefited us as well.

One thing we say often, “we can get through anything together.”

I’m curious, as well as looking forward to seeing how we continue to grow together and within ourselves. Apartments may change, but living with my person- is just a new beginning. Oh god that sounded cheesy, but it’s a good feeling to have someone, and I’m lucky to have her.

Places can be “home”, but so can people.

 
 
Guilt After Going No Contact

I said a strong statement the other day. I told my therapist that this feels a lot worse than when *insert a past trauma*. I really can’t compare the two. I wasn’t saying that my trauma wasn’t bad, but this was the best way I could describe how awful I feel. I told my therapist that the emotional pain is so bad, so intense, and the stress it is creating feels crippling.

“It’s hard to like myself right now.”

Well, there it is.

Guilt.

In my post about what I learned this Christmas, I wrote, “There is a difference between feeling guilty, as in I’m doing something wrong VS. this is a really difficult decision and I’m sad I have to make it, but it is the right one for me.”

I may learn these things, but I need to consistently remind myself of them.

I tell myself, “You do not have a reason to feel guilty. You did nothing wrong.” It is so hard to believe it sometimes.

I have never experienced guilt like this before. I’ve always tried to do the good thing, the right thing. I’ve always tried to do the thing that will not hurt someone else. Is this what true guilt feels like? Turns out you can feel guilt even when you have not done a bad thing or made a mistake. I feel guilty about doing the right thing.

There are physical symptoms of guilt. I have had shooting neck pain and a headache for over a week. I am having trouble sleeping, and when I do I am having disturbing nightmares. I always have had nightmares, but they went away for a while, only now to return. Thinking about my situation can trigger nausea so badly that a couple times in the past week I have put a trash can at the side of my bed. My appetite is poor. My PTSD symptoms have returned, and I will find myself shaking under the covers. My chest will hurt. I will start to cry, not always because I am sad, but because physically I feel so terrible. My stomach is out of whack; I have been using a heating pad because of the pain. I ask myself if this will get easier. Is this happening because everything is still fresh? What if I physically feel worse and worse?

Guilt. This is all because of guilt. Guilt for text messages I have not replied to. Guilt for Christmas gifts I have not retrieved or exchanged. I have been turning to online support forums, friends, my therapist, reading quotes, over and over again asking if I really am doing the right thing. Is my body responding because this is new and change is scary, or because it is telling me it truly does not want this? I listened to my body when it told me I needed to go no contact, and now I’m listening to my body as it tells me how hard no contact truly is.

This is how I’ve grown up. I have always chosen my own hurt, my own discomfort, to avoid the conflict that comes with saying, “no.” I have been told I am “too nice.” So here I am, doing the opposite of what I have done my whole life. Here I am, putting myself first over my family. Here I am, feeling like I am bad. I feel like a kid, who has done a bad thing.

I have been reading a book regarding no contact and unhealthy family dynamics. One of the things I learned is the difference between abandonment and no contact. Without this understanding, comes guilt. One of the paragraphs states, “Instead of viewing our decision as ignoring them or abandoning them, we can look at it from the vantage point that we have simply changed the form of the relationship we share with them.” “The relationship is silent and ordered rather than chaotic.” (Excerpt from But It’s Your Family..Sherrie Campbell)

It doesn’t mean I don’t think about them. I do, a lot. It doesn’t mean I don’t care about them. It means that right now, I am protecting myself.

I don’t know what the future will hold. Maybe within this year I will open contact again. Maybe this will happen sooner than intended. Maybe I will reach a place of acceptance, enforce stricter boundaries than what I had before, and have low contact rather than none. Perhaps I can open a door for low communication, and still avoid all holidays and family gatherings. I’ve tried this, so maybe it is not possible. Maybe this will deny me of peace. However, maybe I can do it. Whatever decision I make, I don’t want it to be out of guilt, fear, or sadness. I want to make the decision knowing I will create peace within myself. I want to make the decision without hoping things will change. Maybe there doesn’t need to be an all or nothing.

I never believed it was OK to do the back and forth of opening and closing the door. I might have held on to this belief because I thought it was annoying or confusing for them. I told myself it would be harder for them to truly understand what they did wrong. What I am learning during this period of no contact, is that their feelings are not for me to worry about. If or when I’m ready, I can open or crack open that door with the intention of knowing that once I am disrespected, or manipulated again, the door will close for however long I want it to.

I know that in the past, opening the door only led to disappointment and hurt again. I am reminding myself I have choices, and that nothing has to be permanent. Knowing this, makes it easier to breathe. It can be a mental workout- having thoughts of guilt and self-doubt, to then try and think rationally about things. I have been learning to stop myself when I hear thoughts of self-doubt, and challenge it. When I am unable to do this, or the thoughts get too loud, it helps me to talk it through with someone else.

This period of no contact is bringing up hurt, but there would still be hurt if there was contact. Right now, I recognize how much good I am also gaining from this. I am learning a lot about myself, and the unhealthy situations I no longer want to put myself in. I am learning how to give myself what I deserve. What I am doing is crucial, not just for my wellbeing, but for my growth.

It has been 1 month. Crap, it has been 1 month as of today. When I first stopped responding, when I first put my foot down, I anticipated the worst. What if someone dies? What if something really bad happens? Certainly shit has hit the fan this past month, and certainly people have been upset. However, I can take a breath and look out the window and say to myself, “see, the world didn’t implode.” “You don’t feel safe, but you are.”

When I chose to leave graduate school, my program director told me my decision was not a reflection of failure, but a success, as it was a healthy decision I was making for myself.

I believe the same can apply to this.

I will not feel guilty for choosing to be healthy.

 
 
Boundaries During Holidays

I was not planning on writing about this because it felt too hard. Today was hard. I wasn’t going to write about it while in this headspace because I’m likely going to cry. I changed my mind, realizing this is probably the best time to write. It is important I truly feel my feelings in order to release them.

I grew up associating the holidays with being pulled in numerous directions. Both of my parents had divorced parents so I have step-grandparents as well. If we spent a holiday with one side of the family, I would feel guilt for not seeing the others. I grew up with 2 Thanksgivings, and 3 Christmas gatherings (not including waking up at my own home on Christmas morning). I have 2 specific Thanksgiving memories. At my Grammy and Grandpa Carl’s house we would go off-roading. I would climb in the bed of a truck with my cousins and laugh as we slid with each bump and turn, branches nearly wiping us out. Every year I look forward to my family’s sweet potato casserole, and pumpkin cheesecake. Thanksgiving at my Nana and Papa’s house we would walk down to Papa’s brook, across a bridge, and light a tree for the holiday season. Each year it was a different grandchild’s turn to flip the switch and light the tree. We would sing carols (horribly) and there was always laughter.

 
 

So many things changed. Papa died in 2015, and we stopped having Thanksgiving with that side of the family as their family grew as well. Thanksgiving was still my favorite holiday, but I still associated holidays with obligation, and pleasing everyone else. Growing up, I did not know why holidays overwhelmed me so much. I remember being young and crying at a Christmas gathering and did not know why I was feeling so sad. I was overwhelmed with the amount of people and all of the talking, even though I knew everyone in the room. Holidays were not always easy, but they certainly got harder.

Two of my family members I do not speak to. One, I don’t expect to face ever again. The other isn’t so far away. I have panic attacks each year as holidays approach because as much as I do not want to go to our gatherings, I feel guilt disappointing the family I do want to see. I have learned that holidays should not feel like something I should white-knuckle. Holidays should be a time that feels cozy, safe, and full of love. I have been better about setting boundaries each year, and my family has been better at accepting that I may be at some gatherings and may not. I may leave early or I may only stop by. Once I continued to set boundaries, people stopped expecting. Each year, however, I hear some form of disapproval. This year for Thanksgiving I wanted to try to show up because it is a time to see my cousins. There is one family member I do not want to see, and seeing this person makes me feel unsafe and uncomfortable. I thought I could go and just avoid this person, but I know that even being in the same space as them would be unhealthy for me. It is always a red flag when I am crying and panicking about a holiday weeks before it even arrives. My nightmares get worse, I dissociate, my arthritis gets worse, my pelvic pain returns, and I can hardly eat. It is not about being stubborn. Nobody understands.

Today I told my mom I won’t be at Thanksgiving. She cried. I don’t do this to hurt her. I don’t know how to protect myself without hurting her. She has a right to be sad about the situation, but it does not make it OK to make me feel badly for it. I heard, “For years we have heard you say that you are just going to do what you want to do, and here we just go along with it.” Like, yes that is what boundaries are. I have been called selfish many times, and even though she did not say those words, she basically was. I am tired of hearing this story about how my Papa used to say “Roots are important. Stick to your roots.” I am not going to stay in my hometown because my family is. I am not going to maintain relationships with family who make me feel unsafe. I don’t believe in “but they are family.” Family should feel like a safe space. Family should build you up, not drain you. Family should not leave you preferring to be alone on a holiday instead of being around them.

I never wanted it to be this way. It was weird explaining to my girlfriend that I am indeed family-oriented. At first she didn’t see it that way because all she knew was how much I did not want to see my family. Now she understands that I am family-oriented with those I feel safe with. Safe to be me. My mom suggested I text this person and remind them that I still care and miss them. I wasn’t trying to sound like a bitch, but I took a breath and said, “But I don’t miss them”. I said that I was comfortable, I was happy, I was doing the right thing by not reaching out. Why does it have to be me? I used to try. They made no efforts in replying to me, and I stopped trying as well.

I also know that it is not fair to the rest of my family to witness the drama between me and this person on holidays. Everyone can sense the tension and it does affect others. I am an understanding person, I have empathy for what this person has been through. I don’t hate them, I just want to be able to trust that they are better.

 
 

I feel so grateful when I find someone who understands what it is like to have to cut a family member out of their life. I feel so alone because I know most of my family does not understand. I come from a family who often does things because they feel they have to, not because they want to. I don’t want to live my life that way, especially when it compromises my health. I did that for years, and I learned hard lessons from it.

I’m still stuck on seeing my mother cry today. I tried to hold my own, but I cried too. She told me that she hates the holidays, because she is sad about this situation year after year. She wants everyone to get along. It is not that simple. It has never been this way. I still wonder if it is truly about her missing me, or more about the fact that I said, “no.” I wish that my decision to cut contact with this person, did not make her take it on as well. All I want is acceptance. I want my family to accept that yes this may suck, but this is how it is. I don’t want others to keep waiting for things to change, for us to start talking again. If it happens, it will happen in time. For now, I don’t see it happening, nor want it to happen. I want the holidays to go on for everyone else, as I do what I need to do for me.

I have never truly been close to this person. I have never felt accepted or understood. I have felt their discomfort around my relationship, and seen them avoid me when Aly is around. I have too many memories of fear or hurt by them. I don’t trust them, and I don’t trust they have changed. It is scary for me to wonder if I will be greeted with small-talk and respect (which is weirdly equally uncomfortable/ingenuine) or risk experiencing that pain again if I open that door.

I have to choose the lesser of two evils. After making this decision, I know that the holiday will still be hard. I know I will experience grief, and frustration, and sadness. I know a mix of emotions will come up on that day, as it does every holiday season. I also know that I would prefer those hard feelings, than to experience dread and panic while pushing myself to go. It is not worth being hypervigilant, trying my best to keep distance from someone I may not be able to get distance from. I would rather feel what I feel right now, sadness and some tears, but a deep knowing that I am doing the right thing. I can feel grief, and loneliness, and also trust that my body is thanking me for listening to its signals. I will hope that now that I made this confirming decision, my body and mind will begin to feel peace again.

When there are broken pieces in a family, it is helpful to find a chosen family. I am grateful that I have Aly, and her family who welcomes me with open arms. I am grateful that when I feel alone, I have other people to turn to. Aly is home to me, and her support means the world to me. I can grieve the fact that my family did not turn out to be what I imagined it to be as a child. While getting older, I can see that instead of waiting for things or people to change, it is best to work with what you have in this moment.

I can’t continue to fear others seeing me as selfish. It isn’t true, and I’ve never been a selfish person. If doing what is best for me means selfish, then sure, okay, I’ll be selfish. I think of everyone’s feelings before my own, but that won’t continue to help me live this life. I can create space from people without wishing them harm. It may feel safer for others to blame me than to accept that things are out of their control. I have to keep choosing myself again and again. I know that in the end, the right people will choose me too. The right people will cheer me on for having the courage to take care of me for once.

 

thanksgiving 2021

 

I don’t want to hate the holidays. I don’t want to keep trying to find ways to cope better in my family traditions. I’d like to create my own traditions that feel right for me. It will be uncomfortable to step into those changes, but I know a lot of my healing has come from even small uncomfortable steps in a different direction from what I have known.

Small Fear is Just as Big

The things that scare me don’t always make sense compared to the things that don’t scare me at all.

I have traveled to another country alone- no fear.

I have been in a shark cage- no fear.

I have walked alone at night- no fear

I’ve gone deep in the woods by myself- no fear.

This past weekend I was reminded that some of my oldest anxieties can still creep up on me. Aly and I were going for a quick ride to grab lunch, but first we were stopping at the grocery store. Grocery stores are really overwhelming for me. The overwhelm often has to do with my chronic illness and fatigue, but it also has to do with being a highly sensitive person (HSP). The lights, the people; it just feels like too much. I always leave a big store and feel like I need a nap after. I was the only one who wanted food, so I told Aly, “I’ll just see what they have for pasta salads instead so we don’t have to make another stop.” I walked to the deli and stood in between two women and their shopping carts to look through the glass. I saw one of my favorite pasta salads, but I looked to my right and saw more people waiting. Too many people. Suddenly the lights were too much for me. I did not know where to grab a ticket, and I did not want to walk in front of anyone to grab it. I am not even sure if I would call it social anxiety, but I was definitely scared. I gave up. I walked away and told Aly never mind. She had no idea that I did want it, but just could not do it.

Aly could tell something was wrong, and the more she asked the more tense I became. She asked, “what did I do?” I told her she did not do anything at all. I did not want to talk about it because I was embarrassed, mad at myself, and I wanted to cry.

Leaving the grocery store, Aly gave me the time I needed before I told her. I took a breath, “I was too afraid to order the pasta salad and I did not want to tell you because I knew you would offer to do it for me.” She asked why I did not tell her and I started to hold back more tears. “It is just embarrassing.” She assured me it wasn’t embarrassing, and offered to turn around and get me the pasta salad. At that point it wasn’t about the pasta salad anymore. I just wished something that simple did not leave me so fearful. I had the same anxiety before when ordering a grinder (yes I did just call it a grinder, I’m from Connecticut). When there are too many toppings to order, including “toasted” or what kind of bread..I choose to order a slice of pizza instead. Aly has ordered one for me before, and even though she does not mind, I did not want her to ask for my pasta salad too.

I don’t understand it. I can order at other places, no problem. It guess it depends on the environment or my sensitivities that day. I have not entirely figured it out. I have done a lot of work through the years on accepting myself. I know that I am different from people in a lot of ways, and I am trying not to see those things as flaws. Sometimes I wonder if everyone sees the world as I do. I wonder if everyone’s eyes feel like mine, or if their head feels like mine. I wonder if others ask themselves if they are really here. I often want answers as to why I am the way that I am, or what could be “wrong” with me. At the end of the day, I would not change most things about myself. It is not fair to feel like I need to change to fit in this world, fit in my workplace, fit in society. Part of my healing is understanding that I may not always “fit” and that I am not supposed to. Others can accept me for who I am, and I can accept myself too.

Fear and anxiety does not make anyone feel good. As much as I want to make sense of why I am uncomfortable at times, it is not about figuring it out. It is about being gentle with myself, and not hating myself for how I may respond. This isn’t just about a pasta salad. This is about sitting in the wrong room in 6th grade and being too afraid to walk out in case someone asked. This is about being asked by my mom in high school “how will you be able to handle college if you can’t walk into a gas station and pay?” This is about shutting down in public places while my friends were having fun. This is about the many, many times I have been hard on myself for feeling overwhelmed when nobody around me is.

I admit this is odd that this post was inspired by a grocery store pasta salad, but I promised myself I would be real on this site. This is as real as I can be.

There are so many things I have overcome. There are so many things that used to be hard for me that are not anymore. There are so many times I will do something despite it being hard for me and I will say, “I did that.” Still, there will be times I cannot do something. If I can’t do it in that moment, it does not mean I never can.

 

2020, tackling my fear of heights in South Africa

 
Start Here: A New Beginning

Excuses have kept me from the keyboard, and I thought they were good ones.

“I want to start fresh with a new website.”
“I need to change my domain name.”
“I can’t think of a new one yet, so I will wait to write until I do.”

Or, “I can’t blog until I finish my book.”
Ok, well I have been trying to finish my book for years, is it really going to be done anytime soon?

“Maybe I should start vlogging instead? I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that though..” “Would that be annoying for others to see?”

My blog was always about me first. I needed an outlet to journal, and connect with others in a vulnerable way. 

When I tried to be like other bloggers, my joy for blogging went away. Last year I removed thousands of followers I had gained through hashtags, and kept those who I followed back, or who engaged the most with my content. 

I used to write long Instagram captions, and while I still do, I also feel hesitant to share as much as I used to. Instagram has changed, engagement has changed, and I thought, why share so much if not as many people will see it anyway?

You see, this hiding, this restricting I have been doing, has not been good for me either. 

It is 2023 and a good time for a fresh start. 

I left an unhealthy job in the fall of 2022. I have started working as a Peer Specialist and for the first time I can say I believe I am working somewhere that is safe. Somewhere I am safe to be me.

My role as a Peer Specialist means I am supporting and advocating for others while sharing my own lived mental health experiences.

Now that I decided to start publishing posts again, I realized I must do so differently. It is not appropriate to write about my days in the ways I have before. It is not appropriate to use this space to reflect on my days at work or my meetings with individuals served. It is easy for anyone to search my name or land on this blog. 

I can still write about my career growth, my personal development- but other reflections can have their separate space. This blog can have its boundaries. 

This site will stay the same in terms of reflecting on my life as a trauma survivor in her 20’s, learning to balance therapy, work, relationships, and self-care.

This is my first full-time job and I am still learning how to take care of myself. For the first time I feel supported when I advocate for myself at work. I appreciate that some days I can work from home and rest and also feel more productive. I appreciate that I can fit my own therapy into my schedule. It is exhausting having multiple sessions a week, but I am more exhausted without them. My sessions keep me going. I am still learning how to balance it all.

I work 4 10-hour days to give me flexibility for therapy. The long hours are a lot, and while I’m doing it there are a lot of things that impact me each week.

My life with PTSD means I still struggle with dissociation. I have nightmares every night and have tried a slew of medications that have not helped my sleep. Often my appetite is poor. My PTSD can trigger my other “friend”, Rheumatoid Arthritis. RA leaves my knees swollen and makes it hard to move around or even get dressed some days. RA + PTSD together.. leave me exhausted. In my work, I feel energized when meeting with the people I am supporting. I can be real, I can be me.

Many days of the week I still feel a bit of imposter syndrome in my new role. I feel like I could be doing better, because I often wish I could be feeling better! The truth is that I’m doing just fine. I’m doing it all, and it’s a lot that I am doing. I can’t compare myself to the work done by “healthy” people.

This job is a blessing and also comes with some growing pains. I have a lot of support but can still feel a bit isolated at work.

In a time I felt isolated before, I turned to blogging to connect. Why not, give this a try again!

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.

 
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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.

 
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Aloha Oahu, I'm Home

When I studied abroad in Oahu the summer of 2018, I did not know how much I would fall in love with this island. The sun on my skin, the ocean, the new friends and connections, my time at the university, small aspects of daily joy that were making me feel right at home when my home was really far away. I did not identify with my socially anxious self, my depressed self, and I felt comfortable in my skin. I felt confident. I do believe that places and environments can bring out the best in you, and Hawaii did that for me.

Leaving the first time, left me in a puddle of tears. Crying in the shuttle to the airport, crying in the airport bathroom, crying on the plane until I fell asleep from crying so much. I tried to remember things to look forward to about going back home, but if I could, if I really could have- I would have stayed.

 
 

The first time I went to Hawaii was less than a year after I brought a coworker to court for sexual assault, and during the time my college closed to due financial problems. It was the perfect time to focus on me, and focus on healing.

Since my return from Hawaii, I have been challenged. Transferring schools, changing jobs, moving into my first apartment, being diagnosed with endometriosis during an exploratory surgery, and hospitalized a 2nd time for my mental health. These things could have very well occurred in Hawaii, but there were many days I wished I had the weather to pull me out of my seasonal depression, and the mountain hikes, and beaches not being so far away on days I need some extra “self care.”

It was impossible to keep Hawaii off my mind. Stickers on my laptop, photos in my bedroom, and the memories to fall asleep to. When it became time to start applying to graduate schools I knew I had to apply to Hawaii Pacific University, the same school I attended that summer of 2018. When I received my acceptance, the decision was going to be harder than I thought it would be. I knew Hawaii would always be there, but this opportunity would not be. It took many big conversations with my parents, weighing out the options of staying in Boston where everything was familiar, or challenging myself to take on something new. Many times I agreed I would stay in Boston, but it was always with glossy eyes or a shed of a tear. My step-father could see it, turning to mom, “she chooses Hawaii.” It was written all over me, and it had been for several years. Now was the part where I said yes, where I had to take the leap, and make it happen.

With COVID-19 bursting many bubbles, “what-if” became a frequent saying of mine. I planned for the “what-if I can’t go.” I waited until the very last second to book a flight, waiting to see if the school would change its plans. To our surprise, they changed the summer courses to online, but insisted the fall semester would remain on-campus as HI continues to have the lowest cases of any state.

June 29, 2020, I started my morning with a 6:30am flight from Hartford -> Dallas --> to Honolulu!

 
mask provided by Nana!

mask provided by Nana!

 

Packing was a challenge! I stuck to my goal of 2 checked bags, and the days leading up to the flight I was wrapping kitchen items in bubble wrap and getting boxes ready to ship out the rest!

After a long travel day I arrived in Oahu, and before I knew it I was in an Uber headed to the student apartments.

 
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These past 2 weeks I have been in quarantine. That means I have not left my apartment, I have not been outside in 14 days! Hawaii is strict with the quarantine order, as they should be! People are getting arrested for breaking quarantine when they fly into Hawaii, so nope it was not worth it for me to risk it! The first week in quarantine was not bad at all. I ordered my groceries in, I got settled, I rested from travel and tried to adjust to the time zone as best as I could.

By the second week, I was getting more anxious to leave! I love my me-time, but this has been a lot of me-time! I began my first graduate course which is online for the summer session. The first day was a success, I enjoyed getting to know my professor and the other social work students in my cohort. When it was over, I had a smile on my face and wanted to call my mom almost like it was the first day of kindergarten. I just knew I made the right decision, and that is an amazing feeling. I am more looking forward to continuing my courses on-campus come the end of August.

On the 13th, finally my two weeks of quarantine were over, and I spent my first day on the beach building a new connection, and a mean sunburn!

I just feel so grateful. I am grateful to be here. I am grateful for the journey that led me here. I am grateful for the confidence I have been building piece by piece.

I am ready for what’s ahead,

even if it includes purchasing a lot more sunscreen and even more aloe vera.

 
 
Hello To My Inner Child

Let’s talk about the inner child.

(n) a person’s supposed original or true self, especially when regarded as damaged or concealed by negative childhood experiences.

I have been diving back into my spiritual side, after unintentionally pushing it away. No, it’s not a recommended part of my therapy, but it is important to me.

The concept of the inner child is not primarily spiritual, and it is used in psychology and some psychotherapies, but inner child work and inner child healing is still a little taboo, and I did not know about it until several years ago or so.

“It can be used to resolve emotions in childhood your “inner child” still holds, as well as the joy, innocence, and confidence that is your birthright.” (Harley Therapy)

This can include learning how your childhood has impacted you today, learning to re-parent yourself/your inner child. The goal is to accept and reconnect with that part of your personality.

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I recently had an inner child reading. One that revealed my inner child withdrew very early in life, likely around the age of 3 or 4. She learned very quickly that it was best to stay quiet. Quiet would keep her safe. I quickly went into a safe space in my head.

A few glimpses from my reading:

You were/are a very sensitive and insightful little girl, wise beyond your years. You noticed patterns and could kind of see energy in motion.

You are becoming more aware of yourself, separating some of the conditioning from childhood from who you really are....as if you were hidden, even from yourself.

You have felt that you had no control and so you fell silent within... you are a strong and somewhat stubborn little girl, you didn’t easily give in to the fear.... your inner child kept you kind of propped up when the going got rough.

Your inner child has been cowering for a long time. This is for good reason. And it is also safe now for you, the adult to hold and love your little self so that she feels ready to either look at the past or to move on from a new point of strength.

I get the sense that you prefer to go solo, you don’t easily trust others, but you do trust your inner voices.... you could say that you have an inner wise man.... your inner child is quite Old in some respects, an ancient one that you are just tapping into. She is fun and full of joy when she is free...the sense that she has led you through a troubled time in your life, now things should get easier.

She challenges you to get out in the summer sunshine, enjoy the good days and taking a walk in the park.... sit on the swing and dream a little..I get the sense that you can tend to restrain yourself, afraid to reach out.... but this is the time in your life when you are ready to bring new energy around..”

This photo above is from my pre-K years. I had stopped crying for that smile. I had bad separation anxiety and often cried every time I was dropped off at school.

I’ve been “toughing it up” since the early days. It’s been a blessing for my resilience, but a curse when it comes to not being hard on myself or allowing myself to feel what I feel. I’ve always had the playful, dreamy, silly side to myself. I tend to push this side of me far far away, feeling the need to stay serious and keep my guard up in this world.

Learning about my inner child has been a big source in my healing during my C-PTSD treatment. She (little Haley) has been with me all along, and knows me best.

My job now is to make sure she knows it’s safer now to open up. She doesn’t have to be silent anymore. Her voice matters. I am re-learning with her, who I am, who I was before my inner child shut down. It’s pretty transformational.

I was not sure what to expect when I took the plunge and received this spiritual reading, if you are interested I am happy to pass along the recommendation. The results opened my eyes, and I was surprised to how much I resonated with the findings. Soon, I will write a letter to my inner child, and I am looking for more exercises and ideas to incorporate inner child work in my healing/daily life.

Recognizing that there is a child, or a hurt child, within us all is helpful to find empathy and compassion for ourselves. It’s hard to see that when we look in the mirror, and it’s why I often turn back to old photographs. Love, as always, has to start with us.

 
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Pride Month: My Coming Out Story

Oh hey, I’m gay! Or queer. Or a lesbian. Or part of the LGBTQ+ community. Honestly, I’m still playing around with what labels fit me best, but news is I ain’t straight. I’ve been told I don’t necessarily have to label myself, and that’s a comfort, but I think the more confident and comfortable I get being out and proud this will come naturally. For now, I am most confident in saying I like girls! I like people! I love who I love.

I want to share my coming out story. It’s June, it’s Pride Month, and I haven’t written about this yet!

My story will include my first girl/girl relationship, because dating her was what prompted me to come out in the first place. As of April 2020 we have broken up. I won’t get into that much either, other than that I initiated it, it was not easy what-so-ever. Our breakup was messy, and definitely a heartbreak. I cried for a long long time, and I wasn’t sure how long it was going to take to not feel that way. I’m 21, and this was the first heartbreak I’ve ever had. Broken hearts are the worst. Relationships are hard. But I learned a lot from this. I am growing more as a person, and figuring out who I am because of this.

Most recent Instagram post from 06/12/2020:

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“My first lgbt related post, as just me! My first pride month newly-out is interesting that’s for sure, but it doesn’t mean less.

I fell in love and had a meaaan heartbreak all within the year I came out and dated a girl for the first time. It was all messy and complicated and wonderful and everything else. Relationships can be worthwhile even if they don’t give you everything you need. Do you ever forget your first love as a baby gay? Probably not!

In coming out, it was hard to navigate the pressures of labeling myself as bi/lesbian/pan. I was still figuring things out. I didn’t want to define myself in a box, and the best way I could explain it to my family was that I just love who I love.

I look forward to continue navigating being comfortable in my skin, and refusing to hold myself back from loving who I am and who I love! Coming out, for me, has looked like baby steps, and walking on eggshells. I still have some family who don’t know I like girls, and I’m still nervous as hell for when/if they do!

Though it feels like the end of the world when people have trouble accepting me, the people who do are the important ones in my journey, and changing myself for others will not result in my own happiness.

Being open and honest is how I want to roll, and my goal is to become more vocal + educated in the LGBTQ+ community, and be more confident in my belonging. This month, I’ve also been taking the time to learn more about the Stonewall riots, where pride originated. Queer and transgender black people and people of color protested and advocated for the rights of this community, paving the way for more to live and speak our truth and keep doing the work!! No, it wasn’t always a party. Still, there’s a long way to go.

I am still coming out of my shell, but I have much appreciation for the strong community to grow with. & a big thanks to @allieandsam for being a big influence in my decision to come out last year, your t-shirts are just another way I could show appreciation for you both! (Link to snag your own is in their bio)

Thank y’all for accepting me, as me.❤️”


I came out in August of 2019. I did not just surprise my family by telling them I liked girls, I surprised them by telling them I also had a girlfriend. Though my mom said all the right things, that she loved me no matter what, and wants me happy- I could tell this was not going to be easy for her. Growing up in a mostly-republican family, a small town with very little gay representation, getting others to understand was going to be my biggest challenge.

In meeting my girlfriend, my mom was great, but she made it very clear that if we were to hold hands and such, she wasn’t sure she was “ready for that.” This hurt, but I knew it would all happen little by little and I needed to trust her process as well. The first time she saw a photo of us together, hugging each other, she said it was a little too “snuggly.” I sent her a similar picture of me hugging my best friend. “Is this too snuggly too?” Though she wasn’t blatantly unsupportive or homophobic, I could sense her discomfort, and that made it all the more difficult for me and our mother-daughter relationship.

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I came out little by little to other family members and the reactions were all very different, but it was a good thing! My aunt and uncle were instantly supportive, surprised, but very happy for me. My cousins each gave me a big hug and one of them expressed she “knew it!” My best friend was not super surprised- I had been questioning my sexuality for some time- and she was genuinely so happy for me.

I was most nervous to tell my brother. I sat on his floor, came right out with it. He had the most dull reaction, which honestly- was perfect. He said “Okay” maybe even “Cool” and that was that. My step-father expressed that as long as they treated me right, and I was happy he would support me loving who I love, boy or girl.

I wanted it to be private at first, I wanted to take things at my own pace. But I was so happy with this girl and I wanted to be proud of it, not hide it. About a month after dating I posted that “snuggly” photo of us to my Instagram account announcing my new relationship. I received more support than I anticipated. Though it was now out on my Instagram, my Facebook account (which was mainly extended family) was not allowed to have any mention of me being gay. It has been almost a year, and I have grandparents who still don’t know, but I am more comfortable that way. Putting it out there like this, I am risking people finding out. If they do, that’s okay, we will go from there. I am definitely cautious about the platforms and people I feel most safe sharing with.

Let’s back up a little though. The big question, how did I come to realize I liked girls?

My last relationship was when I was 16. There was absolutely nothing wrong with this guy. He treated me well, we had a good time together, but I could not see us as more than friends. I remember telling my closest friends that I questioned my sexuality when I dated him. Though I said it jokingly, I think that was a red flag. I did not date for a while after him. Mainly because I was going through a lot, and I needed to learn to love myself first before I could be in a relationship with someone else. I also was very content not being in a relationship. At least, I think I was. I’m very independent and can be happy by myself, but I also don’t know if this is what I told myself to feel better about not truly connecting with anyone. I had never been broken up with, and that’s not to say I’m amazing as hell, that’s to say I was always the one to break up with a guy first!

In college I went on dates, but did not have much luck. I thought I was just picky as hell (which I probably am too), and I also encountered a lot of assholes which lowered my interest in dating all together!

It was always in the back of my mind that I might be happier with a girl, but I never wanted to consider it. I had only ever dated guys, so I always told myself I was straight. During one of my college internships I developed a crush on another intern. They used the pronouns they/them, and though they did not identify with being female they had feminine features. This confused me. Not their identity! The fact that my brain first saw them as a “girl” and I really really liked them. I never told them, but I was feeling like a middle schooler with this crush and it was the first time I started to open up my mind to the possibility I wasn’t quite “straight” but maybe pansexual. I started exploring by switching my dating apps from guys to girls, and was playfully swiping for a while. I found girls so much easier to emotionally connect with, and so much easier for me to flirt with haha.

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I met my girlfriend on an app. She messaged me that she lived in my neighborhood, and after talking for a while we planned our first date. I was open-minded. I wasn’t really looking for a relationship, I was mainly figuring things out, and really wanted a connection. When I first saw her, I honestly thought “fuck” I knew I liked her immediately. I had been used to trial and error dates, and coming up with excuses to leave early if they didn’t go well. Our date lasted into the night, I didn’t want to leave and she didn’t either. We spent almost every day together after that. I can’t explain it. It was not what I would have expected, but it just happened. We fell for each other and became comfortable together very quickly.

She never pressured me to tell my family, or to come out, but I knew I was ready when we started becoming more serious. We went from being best friends, girlfriends, to roommates within the 8/9 months we were together. My mom did come around, but there were many arguments and tear-filled conversations as well. Times she told me, “I still see you marrying a man someday.” Or “I don’t think you’re gay, I think you’re still very young to know.” I was never the lesbian stereotype, a tomboy, I never outwardly expressed crushes on girls in my younger years. She took this all and denied what I was telling her. It hurt the most, but I needed to educate her as well. She wasn’t all for us living together, she wasn’t all for her being older than me, and though she was being a protective mother, I saw it as one thing only. “It’s because she’s a girl!” She swore it wasn’t about that. It came between my relationship too. My girlfriend overheard our phone fights, and took it personally, that my family must not like her. Her family was accepting when she came out, and the fact that my family was not instantly understanding did not make sense to her. If I came out long before we started dating, things might have been different. It was certainly a challenge for our relationship because it was all very new to me, and not so much for her. Though I lived on my own, my relationship with my family was very close and they were often involved in my decisions. She grew to dislike my family because of this, seeing them only as controlling than loving, and that drove a wedge between us. My family and I don’t always see eye to eye, but I love them and they love me. Girlfriends may come and go, but my family will always be there for me.

When you’re so deeply in love with someone you can almost go blind to your other feelings. You learn to let things go, dismiss boundaries, and it can be easy to put someone before yourself. Truth is, there has to be a balance. I didn’t realize until after we broke up that we probably should had long before, that our relationship was not the healthiest, but I didn’t know until I knew. I was also committing to graduate school in Hawaii, and she really wanted to stay in Boston. We were at two very different places in our lives, and wanted different things.

I posted more openly about my identity and my coming out journey when we were dating, and with it being Pride Month I think it is a reminder to me to not feel as though I should go back into hiding who I am. My Instagram post has received a lot of love, and I couldn’t be more grateful. With so much happening in our world, my first Pride is not how I expected, but I’m still celebrating me, learning more about the LGBTQ+ community, and how I can do better. I knew that I wanted to start with sharing my story. I feel much more free, knowing I can be me, knowing I can love who I love.

Happy Pride Month, lovelies. <3

Haley

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update as of June Pride 2022:

I’m almost 1 year into a wonderful, healthy, happy relationship and I could not be more confident and comfortable with my life, who I am and who I have become since coming out. My family is supportive. Her family treats me like family. What was once so new in my household, is almost “old news.” As I expected, it did not take long for my mom to come around. We both had to get to a point where we didn’t worry so much about what others might say or think. Today, it’s natural, it’s normal, it’s me. My grandparents know and are accepting and couldn’t love me less. I’m grateful for the courage I had several years ago to speak my mind and open my heart.

I enjoy rainbow dresses, and rainbow everything. I know, I know.. totally giving into the corporations, but it makes me happy. It makes me feel bright and confident and seen. I’m proud to be queer. It feels great to be able to say that.

 
 
Writing and Growing
 
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When I first started blogging, I was writing daily, sometimes 2 posts a day. That was when my blog was anonymous, most of my readers were strangers, and I did not have to worry one bit about what people were thinking. I was not writing to help anyone else but myself. Most of my posts were journal entries about how I was getting through high school while seriously depressed and anxious. I did not know how to talk about those feelings, so I would write about them instead. Somehow along the way, as I was helping myself, I was receiving emails and comments from strangers. Instead of judging, they were supporting me on my journey. Many could relate to what I was going through, and many expressed that they were amazed at how I could express such emotions and experiences in the written word. For me, it was not about that at all. I was just writing, because it felt easier than talking.

When I realized my words were helping other people, I took a shift with how I was using my site. I was no longer anonymous, I deleted my personal Instagram account and I made my new one only dedicated to my blog site. I went from posting twice a day, to spending hours thinking about what to write next, and what people would actually want to read. I spent less time using writing as a journal, and more time trying to be an inspiration for others.

I recently was talking with a family member about the importance of doing things for you first, before the focus becomes about everyone else. He expressed interest in making videos, but that the more he would overthink about what people would want to see. The more time would pass, he would hold himself back from doing what he wanted. I related in a lot of ways. Blogging and writing was something I enjoyed, and when I put too much thought into it I found it harder to make it happen. People asked when I was writing a new post, and I pressured myself to please them. It was no longer helpful or enjoyable for myself.

Now that I graduated from college, and am about to embark on a new journey and a next chapter, I feel it is important that I make some changes with how I am using this site. I deleted many of my old posts, with the intention of starting fresh and writing new ones. I have decided to make this site’s focus about me first; my diary, my journal, and welcome others to read along. It may not always be pretty, I may be opening up a door to some vulnerable and darker sides to me. Writing has helped me to grow, and sharing my story is not at all easy, but in the past I have found it to be worthwhile.


Let’s get to it.

I was diagnosed with PTSD before my senior year of college. Looking back, the symptoms go back long before. The nightmares, the insomnia, my mind replaying difficult memories, the panic attacks and episodes of dissociation.

I never acknowledged I was someone who had experienced trauma, I just thought there was something wrong with me. At age 18 I learned for the first time in my life that I was survivor of child abuse and a household of domestic violence. I somehow took all the pain and put it aside, telling myself I should feel guilty for feeling so sad so often, for feeling like I did not belong. After all, I was a happy child from a big family, and things could not be as bad as they seemed. I have had to face the facts that both could be true. My childhood was both loving and wonderful, and though I have been privileged, things have been incredibly difficult too. I’m studying to pursue a profession in mental health care, while still learning how to cope myself.

It is difficult graduating from college, moving away from home, and trying to move forward with my life when every day my mind and body wants to go backwards and over-process things from my past. After two psychiatric hospitalizations and several counselors in 5 years, I am finally working with a psychiatrist on healing from trauma and the roots of where my anxiety and depression began. It’s fricken hard work, but I have never been more ready to do this. The work, has to start with me, before I can properly allow myself to take care of myself as I pursue a career in helping others. In the midst of COVID-19, my therapist’s office has become my bedroom, or my car via video call. I am grateful that I can continue therapy, and that even when I move to Oahu for graduate school I will be able to continue therapy virtually in another time zone. One of the challenges I am facing is that when my weekly session ends, the processing continues. I am having a hard time without a schedule, a hard time “leaving my stuff” in therapy.

One of biggest challenges is staying present. My mind always wants to drift elsewhere. Writing, helps to bring me to this moment.

I have started crafting a schedule for myself that will tell me when to wake up and when to go to bed. It will include getting outside, some type of activity, my weekly therapy session, and time set aside for writing. I have tried this in the past but I have failed to stick with it. I’m giving it a shot again now that I am home 24/7 and am out of school and work.

I have been asked how I am doing and I continue to say “Alright” which in my words translates to not great, but not terrible.

I’m hanging in there, aren’t we all?