This week, I opened the window to my heart. I shared a deeply personal essay about how I feel when I dissociate. I sent my words out into the world, not knowing how they would be received.
I had no idea where I was headed when I began writing this summer. I’ve always known there is a writer in me, I’ve always just been too practical to let her out. One foot in front of the other, marching down that practical life path. “You’ll never make any money writing,” echo my father’s words.
And yet, here I am, no longer bound by practicality, finally allowing my words to venture out. And I can’t stop. There isn’t enough time in the day to write all the things I need to share.
My body is a house for pain. It is the physical boundary of all my sadness and hurtful memories. They are lined up at the door now, anticipating their freedom.
My therapist asked me during our last session what I do to help myself feel better. How do I resolve each experience after I’ve talked about it? I didn’t really have a good answer. Most of the time, I just try to live a good life. I share or write about it and move on. When I get home, my children or my husband need me and I get pulled away from those thoughts. Back into this world, leaving that one open and raw.
But is that true healing? Have I found a proper home for that pain? Can I put it away on a shelf for now, maybe forever?
Now I think I know part of the answer. Part of my healing has come from complete strangers. It has come from you.
Because I shared with you a piece of my heart. And you didn’t shy away. It wasn’t too much to hear.
You didn’t tell me I was weird.
You didn’t tell me to get over it.
You didn’t tell me I’m broken beyond repair.
Instead, what you said was, “Me too” and “I feel that way.” And now I know that I am not alone. I never have been.
And my words were shared more times than my humble heart could imagine. You shared them because they are your words now. You shared them because you were finally able to make someone else understand how you really feel. You shared them because they might describe and help someone that you know.
Thank you. This “Mighty” community is filled with so much love and compassion that I am overwhelmed. The editors and the readers are an amazing group of people, handling each unique condition and experience with the honor it deserves.
Here is a safe place where I can heal.