Breathe

Some of the humidity has finally broken. The sun is shining on the leaves I can see out of my office windows. I have a rose scented candle burning and I opened a window, although the AC is still humming on low in the background. I was feeling good so I put my iPod on shuffle, somehow all of Barbara decided to play. It’s ok, she compliments the June Bugs. My favorite sound in the whole world is that of the June bug. They like it hot and humid, the climate has been perfect for them this week. I would never step on one – it causes thunder storms you know. Somebody told me that as a child and it is my oldest and probably only superstition that holds magic for me still. That may be why the song that it sings evokes a feeling of calmness and excitement all at once. I like to listen and take a deep breath, it’s almost a Pavlovian response and filled with excitable angst.

Today I am feeling excited. I am trying to embrace a little success, a milestone that feels miles long. Similar to the sound of a summer flying insect, other things stimulate my senses and evoke feelings that often confuse me. They start off feeling good and before long I have turned them into the same behavior pattern of fear, worry and discomfort. I am a trauma survivor. I am only beginning to understand what that means. I am only beginning to believe and understand that bad things happen to good people. And BAD things happen.

When my children are sleeping soundly in their beds I am most at ease. I love that initial feeling that they are comfortable. Take a deep breath. Smile, I may touch their face or swipe back their hair, maybe fix a blanket. I love that feeling until I leave the room.

Will they be ok?

Are they afraid?

Will somebody hurt them?

The comfort and ease are quickly diminished.

I adore metal sprinklers and how the water sprays in a pattern hypnotizing me in a summer haze. Walking in the freshly fallen snow early in the morning before anybody has had a chance to muddle a path is something that takes my breath away. Bubble baths with exotic scents and sometimes glitter; that encompass my bare skin just after getting comfortable. I love long kisses and Indian music. All of these items and events summon both happiness and anxiety and feelings of failure of sorts. Wouldn’t it be dreamy to just go sit on the patio with the sprinklers and listen to the June Bugs with out the intrusive thoughts.

{I cope I guess}

I have been busting my ass in therapy with honesty and discussion about real feelings. Coping and living one day at a time have become very normal for me. If I get through today not sinking into a pile of disgusting failure, I’ve made it through the day. I have dealt, coped, found a way to make it to bedtime without hiding under a rock. That is not to say I am out and about, I have certainly been spending a lot of time indoors on my couch in my office. I am safe here. Simply put.

The realization that I have been chronicling my life for almost two years is setting in. It is beginning to help me heal – the experience has allowed me to hear a June bug this morning that reminded me that I can feel happy, I can feel success. The success of a healing mind and my overall good health. I can embrace the success of my parenting skills and relationships, and I can foster my personal feelings of self-worth. Yes, I am a rape and trauma survivor. That certainly doesn’t need to define me; I only need to accept and learn what that means, what it means to  survive as me.

Today, I am trying to celebrate happy. I will try to meditate or breathe away the bad feelings when they come up.

This is why:  I deserve to feel good. I deserve it. I am a good person and I always do my best to make somebody smile. I take care of my children and responsibilities, I always try to make people smile or laugh and I am a good friend. I mind my business and live and let live. When we write it down it helps process the validity of the thoughts. As I continue to write and grow and accept – I will continue to heal.

My journey is not for the faint of heart. It is heartbreaking, hopeful and honest. Some days it is plain old scary as I continue to battle so many forms of self-abuse as means for relief. I wouldn’t go back to doing it alone as I had for years, and I cannot begin to express the value of a trusted good therapist and trusted attentive psychiatrist.  As always, I need to express my gratitude to my readers. Each and every word you read warms my heart.

Thank you. ~ Leigh xxx