Welcome to the first Friday Feels! These newsletters are going to be deeper and more personal. Often written with a lot of creativity and descriptive language and imagery.
This writing was inspired by the following quote and photo.
“Happiness turned to me and said – “It is time. It is time to forgive yourself for all of the things you did not become. It is time to exonerate yourself for all the people you couldn’t save, for all the fragile hearts you fumbled with in the dark of your confusion. It is time, child, to accept that you don’t have to be who you were a year ago, that you don’t have to want the same things. Above all else, it is time to believe, with reckless abandon, that you are worthy of me, for I have been waiting for years”
– Bianca Sparacino
It’s been a beautiful and terrifying discovery,
Learning I was a victim,
Accepting that I was a victim,
Being raging angry that I was a victim,
Disclosing that I was a victim.
My world was all black and white.
And sometimes it blurred together into various and ever changing shades of grey.
And that grey color
It ruined me
Grey meant that there wasn’t a definite answer.
That I could be wrong and right all at the same time.
The thought of being wrong would shake me to my core.
I had perfected the mask of being “right” all the time.
I had perfected the image of having everything together.
I had perfected the idea that life was easy… if you just tried hard enough to keep all the clutter out of everyone else’s view.
Grey meant things weren’t in order and chaos was coming.
And if you asked my therapist, they’d tell you that chaos is my nemesis.
When chaos ensues, my body is flooded with adrenaline and fight or flight mode takes over.
And my perfect mask that I’ve cultivated for years shatters.
I didn’t know how angry I was with myself,
How much of a burden I carried. Every. Single. Day.
I packaged up that pain as if what happened was all my responsibility to own. And I couldn’t let the mask fall, so I bundled all my feelings up in one paper filing box, and stored it out of sight in a dark corner of my brain, in hopes it would be out of mind.
The weight of that paper filing box was easy to drag around with me at first.
But it grew heavier and heavier with time.
When I’d pull a muscle from dragging that box behind me, my mask would slip and my self-shame spiral would escalate.
I was letting the weight of my hidden past take over my essence, like an ivy vine crawling the sides an abandoned house.
It creeped slowly at first over the walls, and then over the windows.
Suffocating me through the process.
When I could barely breathe anymore, my only choice was to begin accepting pieces of grey.
I retrained my brain to stop overwhelming my body with adrenaline when I’d lift the lid to the paper filing box.
Day by day, and file by file, I’d find new shades of grey until they began changing into shades of deep green or baby blue.
As the paper filing box was being sorted, my world was exploding with color again.
It was new and refreshing.
I could breathe again, even if only for just that moment.
Colors were limitless in their variations of oranges, reds, and my favorite, the fuchsia sky.
They’ve been lying to us, the sky is never “just” blue.
I didn’t know the prison that paper filing box had become.
I didn’t know I was forcing myself to live in a black and white world as I dragged it around.
I didn’t know I was telling myself “black and white is all you deserve”, out of guilt for being exasperated with carrying the weight of the box.
I didn’t know I was holding myself captive as a hostage in a world without color by keeping that lid closed.
I didn’t know.
I. didn’t. know.
I didn’t know.
But I do now.
I know now, I am a survivor.
And I forgive myself for all the masks I created trying to keep myself safe.
I forgive myself for the decisions I made when I didn’t think there were other options.
I forgive myself for carrying that paper filing box with me all those years.
So now when the sky is illuminated with hazy oranges and periwinkle blue as the sun rises over the horizon, I’ll embrace each of those files from the paper filing box and be reminded of my resilience and remember, I survived.
Weekly Serotonin Boosts: These are weekly stories, musings, thoughts or feelings paired with fun photos from my life in an attempt at encouraging others.
Friday Feels: These are monthly creative writings that are deeply personal