journal entry, 2024-05-08
I’m sensing a creeping realization that my desire for accountability for my trauma is because I’m resistant to the other option: that causes and conditions of the universe can lead to senseless cruelty for an innocent kid and it’s nobody’s fault :/
journal entry, 2024-05-10
One thing I’ve never really understood was how I made it through to where I am today. Why didn’t I jump in front of the train when I felt that impulse?
This question opened for me in a really beautiful way during therapy today. Two answers floated up:
- If the universe can sheer dumb BAD luck a shitty childhood on an innocent kid, it can just as easily sheer dumb GOOD luck in helping him get through it;
- Part of me was looking out for me all along.
I think the answer is both. It’s dumb luck that my childhood didn’t squash it all out of me; but by chance, what remained was really taking care of me. Armoring up when I needed it. Realizing that meds were merely hiding the problem, not solving it. Orbiting ideas until I was ready for them.
Somewhere in that realization, I think that “I” shifted from my head to my Self. I saw that that “I” had been steadily there, even as my over-intellectualizing parts flailed around trying to run the show.
This afternoon I managed to feel my feelings, and they told me how I feel. Sounds obvious but I’m so unpracticed at doing this for myself - others yes, but myself not so much. Yet this time it was easy. I just had to ask gently, unafraid, then get out of the way.