relery.untamed
Open Hearts Open Minds
None of us have ever experienced what is happening in our world today. When things change, it can be uncomfortable; raising confusion and dissonance inside of us that we weren’t expecting. My experience with our current global situation has taken me down what feels like an internal “memory lane”. Lights that were bright got a little more dim, and then without warning, everything suddenly everything goes black. Groups of specific animals and species live in this darkness, thriving while the rest of the world sleeps. I’m envious of creatures who feel alive in the night when things appear silent and inactive. I wish I could relate to a nocturnal sense of living while “in the dark”. For me, it just feels like what it is. Dark. I was diagnosed with clinical depression at the age of 17. I believe I had been living with it for years prior to giving it an official title which helped explain the throat closing, lung-emptying pit of nothingness I felt more prevalently. Depression was something I was very familiar with. I’d observed it on a daily basis growing up, existing at extreme levels between my mother and father. I’d unintentionally been granted a front-row seat right in the middle of it all -- nowhere to hide and nothing I could do to help or fix it. I remember one day in particular. It was during my senior year of high school. I walked into school, feeling completely numb. The colors didn’t look as vibrant as they usually did and my mind didn’t wander or get lost like it always seemed to. All I wanted to do was hide and make myself invisible. I weaved throughout the hallways, mindless and entirely blank. Gazing into the eyes of people passing with no connection or desire to engage. Feeling a complete shutdown of my natural instincts to connect with everyone at any given time. The best way I can describe what I was experiencing is feeling everything so deeply that I actually felt nothing at all. This seemed like a strange concept to me until I realized much later in my adult life that this was a very strong protective mechanism I had built to block out pain. I’d gotten so used to having to shut my feelings down and swallow them that it became second nature for my guards to go up before I even realized something was wrong. Something I still battle today. That day, everything around me seemed to slow down and blend together - nothing coming in, nothing going out. I felt extraordinarily lethargic and flat; I couldn't produce a smile if I tried. It felt almost as if someone was operating all the functions within my body, puppeteering my legs to move and head to nod on autopilot. I ate lunch in my orchestra room to avoid conversations or ridicule for why I appeared “down”. My nickname had [sarcastically] become “sunny” - and it wasn’t because anyone thought I was positive or brightened up a room. They just didn’t know. After lunch, I returned to English class where the tears that began to fall wouldn't stop, watching as the ink on my papers collided together. I couldn’t explain why, and they fell without asking. I removed myself and hid in the bathroom until I’d synced up class time well enough to know that when I walked back in, I wouldn’t be noticed. I went home that day expecting to walk into an empty house. My parents were rarely home or present most days. No cars in the driveway, coast was clear. All of the feelings that had hid themselves deep in the crevases of my heart were now feeling safe to come out --All at once. I walked in through my front door and collapsed to my hands and knees. Sobbing gut-wrenching, horror cries. I remember searching for something I could grasp onto in my mind to conceptualize the way I was feeling, but all I could pay attention to was the desperate sinking and emptiness of my stomach as it exhausted air. Feeling as though my chest was closing in on itself, picturing it caving in and collapsing my insides. Everything tightly bound with restraints within me, crying to break free in the next breath. I desperately gasped as I drew the air in, feeling that no amount would ever be enough to bring relief. That’s when I felt a hand on my back, realizing my Dad was kneeling down next to me on the floor, asking me what was wrong and how he could help me. When I heard his voice, I cried even harder, realizing that the only word I could mutter was, “Nothing”. Because that’s what I felt. Nothing; And everything; All at once. Flash forward 12 years and I remember these feelings like it all happened yesterday. They don’t come around as often, but when they do, I can spot them quickly and try to draw as much awareness to them as possible. One thing that took me a long time to discover was how "good" I was at protecting myself. I’d adopted busy-ness as my primary coping technique -- it appeared safest. Sports, orchestra, AP classes - be on the go, do all the things. It was an easy excuse to spend way less time dealing with myself and my home life. Now I'm an adult and still find myself crowding my plate and overflowing my glasses, Though, while a forced slowdown was likely needed in my life- it doesn't make it any less difficult to cope with. Truth is, these past few weeks have been HARD. Way harder on me than I ever thought it would be. And to be completely honest with you, sometimes I feel ridiculous for having the array of emotions and feelings I’ve been experiencing much more frequently than I'd like to admit. But I believe the most obvious reason they’re here is because I don’t have anything to distract me from them. They don’t have to hide from people, or jobs, or conflicts. My shielded heart protector is furloughed along with me, taking a break and telling me that sometimes it’s even good for me to do the same - even if it hurts and even if it's hard. The problem is, I don’t know how to take a break. My core fear in life is not having significance or purpose, and it terrifies me to live life meaninglessly. To understand this, we have to understand what defines purpose or what measures "meaning" - but I have a mindset that sets me up for failure. Because even if something is extremely significant and meaningful - I find myself constantly questioning if it's enough. I place an incredible amount of pressure on myself to create that along with expectations that are so high that I forget to enjoy the journey and the re-routes; the trenches and the airplanes. I forget that creating significance and fulfillment for ourselves in our lives doesn't show up with the snap of a finger. And I often forget that significance and purpose lies within the confines of one's own perspective - it can’t be measured. It's entirely subjective -- and it is whatever we create it to be. Glennon Doyle quoted in her new book, Untamed, She couldn't be more right. So when things grow dark, and when it seems others around you are thriving or embracing a period of life that you aren’t in. When your chest feels tight and when you sleep in until 1 pm. When you struggle to feel anything at all. And when it gets hard to navigate your path because everyone around you seems to have been given a pair of night-vision goggles that ran out when it was finally your turn; Remember that no one else in the world knows what you should do. Because no one has ever lived or will ever live a life you are attempting to live. Our lives are ours. And we need to stop asking for directions to places that others haven't been. Glennon was spot on -- there's no map to this thing. There's no right or wrong way. We are all pioneers, constantly discovering new land and territory to settle into. So own where you are, heaviness and all. It's a part of discovering how to find our way in the dark.
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“Be gentle with yourself. Be kind to yourself. Give yourself grace” Words that cut deep. It’s like tearing off the sticky part of the band-aid that was stuck to the scab and hadn't fully healed yet. Painful, exposed, and back to step 1 of wound care management. Naturally, you grab another band-aid, smother it with ointment to prevent any further damage, and cover it up to protect it --yet again. Scabs that are removed over and over peel back an additional layer each time. New skin exposed revealing the tender and sensitive tissue so desperate to advance to the next step; a scar. And each time it re-opens, the development of the scar becomes a little more pronounced. More defined. Scars leave all different sized and shaped internal or external reminders that never fully go away. Sometimes they’re painful to look at, carrying a traumatic memory of a specific event or experience. Sometimes they symbolize healing and growth. Sometimes they're something we are proud of. And sometimes they're complex. They have stories. Scabs, though; scabs are different. They still have tendencies to reopen with the slightest bump or catch. They’re delicate and desperate to heal, but they have to go through stages. They take TIME. I’m still waiting for the scar that will replace the scab labeled, “Be gentle with yourself. Be kind to yourself. Give yourself grace.” Why is it that the words we need to hear, said by the people we love the most, can hurt the worst? I think it's because we know how bad we need to hear them. Seems strange, doesn’t it? Something we know we need, and something that is GOOD for us, creates so much dissonance inside that we might just instinctively reject it altogether? This response created by a trigger of something that disarmed us along the way, never giving us a fighting chance. Something that forced us to design a new form of survival. A way to withstand the arrows being shot repeatedly right towards our center. So we decided to weld a new suit of armor to preserve and protect, to fight whatever tried to make its way in. This feeling of dissonance and hurt starts to look a lot like an inner conflict between hearing the truth and believing it. Two VERY different things. I had a very vulnerable conversation with my Dad about a year ago, telling him the truth about the deep wounds I suffered growing up and how they have affected me as an adult. His response was something like this: “When you were born, I thought you were the most perfect thing I'd ever seen. You were amazing, and I couldn't believe I'd helped create something so beautiful. You were mine. Talented, creative, intelligent. So when I would see you struggle with things - not understanding something, or not performing as well as I thought you would - I didn’t understand it. It didn’t make sense why you weren’t doing better than this person or better at that one thing. I didn't understand why you had such a hard time. I just thought you'd be better.” Well, there it was. One of the many narratives I'd begun writing about myself based off of the thousands of times I'd been hurt by this expectation. Hurt by the things that created this narrative. The times I didn't get a second chance, was ignored, was called stupid, was rejected, or not even given a chance at all. That narrative became: I am imperfect. I am flawed. I am not able to live up to the potential that my parents expect of me, that I expect of me, that my coaches/teachers/instructors expect of me -- all because of the immense amount of pressure that I feel to be perfect. Good enough never is. It just doesn't exist. The drawbridge lowers, and in floods the self-sabotage, paralysis under pressure, and plummet of self-confidence and self-esteem. All quickly knocking over the small sand-piles I'd started building and even the fortresses that I'd worked so hard for so long to create. The problem was, they were all made of sand. Fragile. Defenseless. And defeated. Looking at the damage that had been done, all that was left was fear and shame. Fear of failure. Fear of rejection. Fear of disappointment. Fear to try again. I've been constantly faced with: What's worse? Trying my best, while kicking and screaming throughout the process just waiting for my confirmation of failure? Or never allowing myself to pour my heart and soul into anything, because if I don't commit myself fully- then I can't say I gave it my all and still fell short. Sounds a lot like a lose-lose situation to me. And sadly, I've frequently chosen the latter of the two. This mentality made itself quite comfortable in the most tired parts of my soul, and it has stolen a lot from me. One of the most significant things I've learned over the last several years is how powerful our minds are. It's a statement we hear all the time, but until you experience what your mind can take from you emotionally and physically - it doesn't quite hit home. When your pain manifests in hives all over your body, panic attacks out of nowhere, debilitating spasms, or complete mental and physical breakdown -- it becomes very real. The weight of it all. And the worst part is, no matter how aware of it you are and how hard you try to tell yourself that your narrative is different -- that wound bleeds and it pins you against a wall with what feels like no choice but to surrender. Truth vs. Feelings. Two VERY different things. I am so unbelievably, relentlessly, exhaustingly hard on myself. That can manifest in all kinds of ways - but over the last few years, I've found that it hasn't made me work harder. It has left me feeling defeated, blank, passion-less, and lost. Searching for purpose and significance. I don't hide from my pain - that's one of the reasons I created this space, to embrace and bring hard things to light. But I have an outer image that represents what some might view as strong. Confident. Driven. One that might make some reading this think, "I would never have believed you battle with...." But that's only because we are conditioned to take the snapshots of ourselves that present us at our best. Despite that reality, I don't ever try to paint an image of myself that is false and work hard to reveal the most raw and truest self I can to those around me, shattered pieces and all. Being open about the cages I live in alongside the taunting enemies of comparison to past versions of myself and to others, self-criticism, and inability to receive love. This is not a pity cry. And it's not a lack of acknowledgement of the love that I have for myself and who I'm becoming. It's being honest about the strong innate responses to messages that I received through my experiences since I was a young girl:
It's challenging for me to hear "I'm proud of you" or "I love you". My insides scream, "that can't be true". It's not because I don't believe the people saying it. It's the dissonance: truth vs. my narrative. It's almost like having an inner conversation that goes something like this: "Well...they can't have gathered that strong of an opinion or statement about me based on those things. It's not enough. Even if there's 10 things that are true, there are 393 reasons to refute them. There's still TOO MUCH WORK that needs to be done before I feel I deserve even one of those truths." That's when I pull out the letters and notes from people who know and love me most. The ones who strongly stated, "Be gentle with yourself. Be kind to yourself. Give yourself grace." Those words hurt. I love them for saying it and I hate reading them because I don't know how to be. But I need them. We all need them. We are far, far too hard on ourselves, trying tirelessly to measure up to the manicured and curated things and people that we think we want to be more like. But behind all things lie scars, and scabs, and stories. Pasts and histories and narratives. I don't know who needed to hear those three statements - but I think it's more of us than not. Write them down, store them somewhere you can find them easily, and pull them out often. Because you are worthy of kindness, and grace, and gentleness. Just like I am. In March of 2020, Americans across the country were faced with one of the largest obstacles that we will likely see in our lifetime. A global pandemic that reached the United States in the form of a deadly virus that we weren’t prepared to take on; COVID-19. This forced government officials to take action -- and fast. It started as a trickle effect of suggestions and precautions, pushing the boundaries of what we could keep up and running as a nation. Drawing our own lines for how close we could get to one another. What we could do to adjust our workplaces to get away with the most and try to control the situation as best as we could until we were told otherwise. Well, that didn’t last long (thankfully) and strict measures were taken. The emergency brake was pulled on the train, forcing large parts of the country to go on a “break” -- and we were told to STAY HOME. What? Stay Home? Unemployment for millions of people? This screams rest and a hallelujah stay-cation for some (at first, anyway). For others, this is terror. Loss of income. Loss of structure. Loss of sanity. For some, this is a loss of years of work put in by small business owners to find out that they won’t be able to climb out of this. For some, this is being forced to stay home in an unhealthy environment. In toxic or abusive relationships, with neglectful parents or spouses. While some don't even have a home or a place to call "safe". An increase in anxiety, depressive thoughts, hopelessness, and fear quickly rises. Separation from friends and family, detachment from any sense of “normalcy” we’ve created in our lives to stay sane. There’s a million scenarios that fit the mold of how this pandemic is affecting us. All of us. And as a former healthcare professional, I understand the severity and seriousness of COVID-19 and the threat it poses to our service workers and anyone genetically or medically compromised. The reality is -- we don’t know enough about this thing to have opinions on how to handle it. We're better off leaving that to the epidemiologists and hundreds of others who study these trends and patterns for a living. All we can do is listen and respond responsibly, despite frustrations, opinions, or feelings. You wouldn’t think a stay-at-home order would be so difficult. I mean….someone indirectly tells you to stay in your pajamas if you want to, sleep in until you feel like it, and ride this thing out in order to keep our country safe? Under any other circumstances, this would feel like a slam-dunk win to me, who often feels burnt out and as though I need a breather from the routine day-to-day. But the reality is, this is far from “rest” for a lot of us. We can try to embrace parts of this experience, because there is definitely some good to be taken away. Especially learning to slow down in a world we’ve been conditioned to run so fast in. But this is a traumatic event. Healthcare workers are crying out to be protected and facing death counts that they can’t process or keep up with emotionally. Grocery stores are working fast and hard to keep everything as safe and clean as possible, stocking as quickly as they can. Some children aren’t being fed at home. People are having panic attacks regularly, thinking, “What’s next?” This is affecting everyone differently, as it should. And that is OK. It is OK to feel all of the things, always. Your feelings are yours; you’re allowed to feel whatever you feel. Relief, stress, guilt, anger -- It’s real. I’m currently furloughed, playing the waiting game with a couple hundred-thousand others. I’ve been struggling the most with lack of motivation, and quickly entering cycles of self-demoralization and guilt due to feeling like I’m wasting precious time. There are people making a difference and working for something to contribute to this, and I’m here proud of myself for taking a walk everyday (not that this isn't a great accomplishment, so if this is you - GO, YOU!) I heavily struggled with these feelings prior to COVID-19, always justifying to myself that “if I just had the time” then I would accomplish so much more. I do believe at one point I wasn’t always this way. But it really does feel like it’s been a very long time since I’ve known the girl that was able to push herself from something stirring within. Who wasn’t so dang scared of just TRYING. Taking one step towards something. Something to know about me, and I’m sure I’ll talk about much, much more about this in the future -- I am extremely hard on myself. So much so that it numbs and paralyzes me from acknowledging what it is that I even feel or want on a regular basis. Everyday I feel an immense amount of pressure that no-one has placed on me except for myself. And that pressure doesn’t push me to do whatever I can to minimize it -- it shuts me down. It blocks my passions, my motivation, and any other stream of confidence I have to believe that I could contribute anything of significance to the world. When I first learned about the stay-at-home order, a part of me was so excited. It was the chance I had always hoped for to accomplish all of those things on my invisible checklist --- write a book, read 10. Exercise more. Teach myself this, learn how to do that. Join this volunteer group or organization. Make a difference. I’m sitting approaching week 5 of quarantine feeling as though I’ve accomplished next to none of those things, and my daily expectations of myself have had to shift drastically. Hell, I’m a fitness coach for a living and can’t motivate myself to exercise regularly or even close to the intensity that I was with no excuse anymore for it. It makes me feel like a fraud. How am I supposed to represent or stand for, encourage and empower others with something so important that I struggle to do myself? But I realized that it’s less about upholding an image of someone that you believe others expect you to be, and more about being honest about how you feel and what you’re experiencing. It is a weird time filled with a lot of uncertainty for many, and even more unknowns. What will the world look like when things start picking back up? What businesses will be up and running, which ones won’t make it back? How will our interactions and relationships with others be affected by this? Will this caution us to maintain more distance and precautions while in public, or will this bring us together even closer? Time will tell. But in the midst, know that you’re not alone in whatever range of feelings you’re experiencing. Whether they may seem silly, unjustified, irrational, frustrating, insensitive, or whatever else exists in the parameters of the millions of feelings that we are more than allowed to feel -- remember that no matter if you’re the healthcare worker, the stay-at-home mom/dad or single parent, the child with emotionally or physically absent parents, the ventilator production companies, the grocery store employees, or the unemployed -- We are all in this together. |
Becoming who I am without the world telling me who to be.-Rachel (R) Elery Archives
March 2021
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