A Journal November 1 2020
"You can fly away too that’s on you, but don’t tell me what I cannot do. I can tie all my shoes and put on my coat, living a history, the one that I wrote.”
What’s this? Lyrics to one of my favorite healing songs.
Build It Up by Ingrid Michaelson came on my playlist when I was in the shower, followed by Hamilton, Frozen 2, LeAnn Rimes..
let me just say my music taste tonight has told me a lot.
I have music for every mood, and for a while lately I have been having songs to cry to which include things from Anson Seabra to Patty Griffin, and Build It Up usually makes it on that playlist too. It’s a song that hits me differently depending on my mood. Sometimes it’s a tearjerker and brings me a lot of grief and nostalgia. Other times, like tonight, it made me feel a little bit stronger.
Friday was messy. The day before Halloween. It involved a flashback within a nightmare, wine, lots of crying- and not the sad song healthy release kind, like the these tears might kill me kind. I reached out for help, and the next day I was grateful that though it was a Saturday, and Halloween, my therapist spent almost an hour on the phone with me. I was exhausted, but feeling a little bit better. I even motivated myself to make a last minute Halloween costume. Which wasn’t exactly a costume, but a look inspired by a childhood favorite. It involved playing with my roommate’s makeup and making use of the pink in my hair.
And that was after my therapy call! I didn’t go anywhere, I stayed in and watched the movies on the list I made weeks ago “Halloweekend” and crossed them off as I went. I ate ice cream, and popcorn, and drank some more wine and by 7:30 I was practically falling asleep watching Halloweentown. Still, it ended up being an OK day.
Today, I woke up at 9- which is early for me! I got coffee and went crystal shopping with a friend, adding orthoclase to my collection. I knew nothing of this stone, but from what I learned it heightens one’s self esteem, is helpful to those who are grieving, enhances intuition, and helps one to recognize their life purpose. Basically, I’ve learned from crystal shopping that certain ones tend to call to you, and this one sure did before I even knew its name or healing properties. I came home, a sleepyhead, but somehow banged out a 5 page paper. By the time I went to shower, I didn’t want to listen to the songs I have needed to listen to recently. I needed louder, stronger, songs that told me I was going to overcome something rather than songs that told me I was still stuck.
It amazes me how in a few days I can have that big of an energy shift. Amazes, yet scares me too. My therapist reminded me of a drawing I did recently. I was surprised she remembered since I told her about it. It was inspired by the grief of coming to terms with my trauma, and trying to let it go. I was grieving my childhood self. I was feeling confused by my identity. I felt like so much had changed me. I found myself googling '“having a funeral for your old self” and no it is not as morbid as it sounds. I thought, maybe I could make a ceremony out of it. A self care or healing ritual. Something to recognize what I’ve gone through, what has been, but also what will be. Grieving the old, but celebrating the new Haley, the changed Haley. I started writing and it sort of turned into a poem. I finished it by drawing a picture of my old home. The home that sneaks into almost all of my dreams. My childhood home for the first 16 years of my life. I drew all of my childhood pets. The swing set in my backyard, this big rock I used to enjoy climbing on, and the woods I used to spend hours in. I then drew my Nana and Papa’s old house which was sold after Papa died. I drew both of them together in the front lawn. I drew the pool where we had summer parties and family reunions. I drew the bridge he built in the brook near his house, and the tree we would light every Thanksgiving and sing carols around. I used different colored markers, I had a candle lit. I don’t believe I shed a tear. I taped it on my wall, and this Saturday, in a phone call with my therapist where I did not see much hope in many things..she reminded me of my drawing. I don’t think she knew that at that moment I had the phone to my ear, and I was looking right at it. Like, oh yes, I forgot about you.
I won’t share a photo of it here. I think I’ll keep this one for me.
Healing looks different every day. Some days it is dark thoughts, asking for a hand, eating my feelings or not eating enough, crying to music, or singing along, sleeping all day or waking up early. Of course I’m sick of it, of course I just want it to get easier. I want to forget everything that hurt me and continues to cause me pain. I want the good days to last longer than they have been. But sometimes I use my hurt, to be there for someone else who is hurting too. I am reminded I am not alone. Nobody deserves to feel unsupported, alone, not seen or heard. I am stepping up in my internship as a crisis text counselor, and my feedback from my supervisors have been good. I am checking in on others in my life from time to time. And I’m letting myself be a Barbie fairy for Halloween because I feel like it!
Healing is terrible,
and ugly,
and inconsistent,
and powerful,
and wonderful.
It always makes me feel like I am getting smaller, but I’m not. I’m becoming more than I am.
