Living a Story

"All the darkness in the world cannot drown out the light of a single match."

The Function of Fear

Have you ever thought about what the function of fear is?  I’ve begun to think about it recently.  I’ve started thinking about it because I have this fear that I know is irrational.  I have this fear that I know is not grounded in truth.  And yet I can’t seem to let it go.  I can’t seem to move past it.  I can’t seem to convince myself that this thing I am so afraid of is not going to happen.  I’ve been frustrated with myself and I’ve been wondering why I can’t let this fear go.  Why I can’t call it out for what it is.  Why I’ve been latching on to it so tightly.  I think it’s because I feel like it is protecting me.  I think it’s because I feel like my fear is keeping the thing that I am so afraid of from happening.  It feels like my fear is a buffer.  It feels like if I let go of it then I will no longer have a buffer and I will no longer have protection.  Is this rational?  No.  But it feels true to me.  Can fear be protective?  I think the very nature of fear is to protect.  If you are crossing the street and a car is barreling towards you, fear is the thing that motivates you to jump out of the way.  If you are walking on the edge of a dangerously high cliff, fear is the thing that urges you to step back to safety.  If a malicious dog is charging you, fear is the thing that gets your ass moving.  So yes, fear is protective.  Fear can save your life.  But can this life saving fear be taken out of context and placed around something that is not actually threatening your life?  Yes.  I believe that is what is happening to me.  This thing I am so afraid of is not threatening my life even though it feels like it is.  The amount of fear I have towards it is not proportional to the fear it calls for.  But my brain is telling me it is protecting me.  My brain is telling me it is saving my life.  How do I argue with my brain that is ‘saving my life’?

I want to let this fear go.  I want to rest assured in the fact that I am safe and that no one is leaving.  But I cannot.  My fear has become a stumbling block.  Something that I cannot move past.  For who can let go of something that is ‘saving your life’?  All of my instincts are telling me that this fear is saving my life.  My ‘fight or flight’ reactions will not let me let it go.  How do you argue with something as instinctive as your fight or flight reaction, even if it is being taken out of context?  I have not figured this out yet.  I have not learned how to let this fear go or how to challenge the reactions that are coming from my fight or flight instincts.  It doesn’t feel right to challenge them.  How can fear save your life in one situation and in another scream danger when there is none?  How do you know when to listen to it?  How can it be taken that out of context?  How do I know when there is actually danger or when there is none?  My brain screams at the same intensity both times.  How do I know when to trust it?

My Vices

Two of my vices are my eating disorder and self-harm.  Two addictions.  Two things that could threaten my life.  I have been battling these things for a very long time.  Been to treatment more than once.  Have fought to overcome them with all the strength I have.

Have I overcome them?  I have definitely made a lot of progress.  I have grown and I have come to understand what they mean and why I struggle with them.  I have come to see their roots, why they developed, and what they have been trying to cover up.  I have learned how to let them go, why I need to let them go.  I am beginning to understand that life is so much fuller and richer without them.  I am beginning to understand that I will thrive without them.  That I can achieve my dreams, find success and connection, feel fulfilled.  I know all of these things.  I have let go of a lot of my maladaptive coping skills.  But there are a couple that I am holding onto.  There are a couple I am keeping in my back pocket to pull out if I need to.

Self-harm, my eating disorder, my walls and disconnection from myself – all of these things helped me survive when I was younger.  My core beliefs that I am bad and unlovable helped me to survive as well.  They helped me make sense of the world.  Explained why certain things happened.  Made me feel in control.  Made me feel like I understood what was happening.  I now call these things my maladaptive coping skills.  For though they helped me then, they are blocking the very things I long for now.  How did self-harm help me survive, you might ask?  How did my eating disorder help me survive?  Both of these things made me feel numb.  They made me feel numb when I was experiencing such an overwhelming amount of emotions, confusion, and pain.  Emotions and pain that I did not know what to do with as a child.  Emotions and pain that I had no other way to cope with.  So as a child, I created these maladaptive coping skills to help get me through.  I built my walls and disconnected from myself.  Disconnected from the pain.  Disconnected from my heart.

I am learning to reconnect now.  I am learning how to cope with my pain and feelings in healthy ways.  I am learning that it is ok to have emotions and to feel pain.  I am learning that this is what makes me human.  But I am also discovering that there is a part of me that doesn’t want to let go of my maladaptive coping mechanisms.  There is a part of me that is afraid to.  Afraid that I won’t survive without them.  Afraid of who I will become.  Of what could happen.  I long to be whole and healthy.  I long to let people in and be fully known.  I long to take my walls down.  I am learning to take my walls down.  I am learning to let go of my maladaptive coping mechanisms.  I can feel myself becoming more free.  But there is a part of me that won’t let go of the last little bit of them.  There is a part of me that is still holding on to them.  Afraid to let go completely.  There is a part of me that wants to hold them close.  Rationalizing that it’s ok to keep these last small ones because I have let go of so many.  Fear is causing me to want to keep them close.  Fear of who I am becoming.  Fear of who I will be without them.  Fear of the progress I could make.  This is where I am right now.  Knowing that I need to fully let go of these old coping mechanisms.  Knowing that I need to take them off the table and no longer allow them to be an option.  But afraid to.  This is where I am right now.

Healing Takes Time

I am so hard on myself.  Always pushing myself to work harder and try harder.  Thinking I should be farther along than I am.  Thinking I should have everything figured out by now and angry at myself that I don’t.  Thinking my recovery should be perfect.  Thinking I should never mess up and feeling like a failure when I do.  I often believe that the effort I put into recovery is directly correlated with my progress.  I forget that there are outside factors.  I forget that there are deep wounds and thought patterns that have been ingrained in me for most of my life.  I forget that there is a child inside me who is terrified and clinging to the things that once helped her survive.  I forget that sometimes, no matter how hard I try, it could take a while to work through these things.  I forget that effort is not directly correlated with healing.  Healing takes time.  Healing is a process.  Healing can be slow.  You cannot force yourself to heal.  I cannot speed up the process by trying harder.  Sometimes this frustrates me so much.  I seem to think I can control the speed at which I heal and when it is happening slower than I would like I blame myself.  Get angry at myself.

I wonder if it is ok that I am where I am.  I wonder if it is ok that I am not further along than I would like.  I wonder if it is ok that I do not have everything figured out.  I wonder if I can start to give myself grace and compassion rather than push myself so hard.  I am in recovery.  I have gotten through so much.  Come so far.  Overcome things I never thought I would be able to overcome.  Do I have more to go?  Yes.  Do I have more to work through?  Yes.  Do I still trip and fall and land flat on my face?  Yes.  But maybe it’s ok.  Maybe it’s ok to trip and fall and be confused and unsure.  Maybe it’s ok to even question if I really want recovery sometimes.  Maybe it’s ok to be afraid.

This is where I am right now.  Wishing I was further along and afraid of being further along at the same time.  Wishing I had everything figured out.  Wondering if it’s maybe ok that I don’t.  Feeling like I need to push myself harder.  Also wanting to sit down and rest for a while.  This is where I am right now.  And I think that, maybe, it’s ok.

Self-Harm

Sometimes I really want to self-harm.  Sometimes it seems like it will make everything better.  Make the pain go away.  Will it make everything better?  No.  Will it make the pain go away?  Temporarily, yes.  But then it will come back even stronger.  Then it will come back with an even more powerful grip.  Sometimes though, I just really want to do it.  I forget the long-term effects of it.  I forget that once I start I will get pulled into the cycle again.  That I will want to do it more and more.  That it will be harder and harder to stop.  Sometimes I think I can do it just once and be ok.  That I can do it just once and stop.  But that is not reality.  That is not what happens.  It is never just once.  Sometimes I want to do it just to make the urge go away, so I can stop thinking about it.  I want to do it so I don’t want to do it anymore.  But that’s not reality either.  Once I start, the urges get stronger and I want to do it more and more.  Sometimes I crave the release.  The way the numbness washes over me and nothing else matters anymore.  I crave the way it helps me to forget.  To forget everything.  I crave the ‘break’ it gives me from life.  The sweet relief.  But I forget how terrible it is when I finally do come back to reality.  I forget how much harder it makes things after the ‘break’.  I forget.  I think it’s because I want to forget.  I do not want to give myself a reason not to do it.  I want to convince myself that it will be ok this time.  It will be different this time.  That it won’t make things worse.  That it will actually help.  If I remember how bad it is afterwards I won’t be able to convince myself of these things.  So I allow myself to forget.  I tell myself that it’s ok to do it just once.  That it won’t cause any harm.  That it’s ok to ‘indulge’ in something that will help me feel better.  That I’ve worked really hard and it’s ok to ‘reward’ myself.  But one time turns into two which turns into three, four, and on and on.  Until I can manage to pull myself out of it.  And pulling myself out of it is so very hard.

Self-harm is an addiction.  I am an addict.  I hate that word.  It has such a negative connotation.  So much shame is associated with it.  But it also gives me some understanding of what I am dealing with.  Self-harm is not an innocent way of making myself feel better.  It is not a harmless coping tool.  It is not something I can do just once and be content with.  Self-harm is a dangerous addiction.  One that can get out of control very quickly.  It is one that must be taken seriously.  One that must be addressed.  One that we must not turn our heads from because of fear and misunderstanding.  One that must not be swept under the rug.  Self-harm is a dangerous addiction.  It is something that millions of people struggling with.  It is surrounded by ignorance, shame, silence, and stigma.  It is something we must start talking about.

So today, I am talking about it.  I am opening up about it.  I am saying that it is something I have struggled with for years.  It is something I have been fighting very hard to overcome.  Am I overcoming it?  Yes.  Has it gotten better?  Yes.  But I still have those days where it consumes my thoughts.  I still have those days where the pull to run to it is so strong.  It might take a while for the pull to stop.  It might take a while for my brain to recalibrate.  It might be something that always lingers in the background.  Something I have to watch out for so it does not take me off guard when those emotional moments spring up.  It is something I am working through and it is something I am talking about.  Because secrets gain power in silence.  Addictions grow stronger when they are kept hidden.

I am talking about it because I do not want to hide.  I am talking about it because I want to break the stigma.  I am talking about it because I know I am not alone.  I know there are millions of people struggling with the same things I am struggling with.  I hope that if there is anyone reading this who is struggling that you will start talking about it too.  Start breaking the silence.  Breaking the stigma.  Secrets gain power in silence.  Addictions grow stronger when hidden.  Let’s break the silence.  There are more of us out there than we know.

Desperate Feelings

Sometimes I get this really desperate feeling.  I get this really desperate feeling to be loved.  I get this feeling like I am suffocating.  Like I am not getting the thing that I need to survive.  I need to be loved.  I need to feel loved.  Sometimes, I get so insecure that I need another person to tell me that I’m ok.  I need another person to tell me I am worth it.  To tell me they are not going to give up on me.  But no matter how often they tell me these things, I still cannot believe them.  It’s like their words fall on deaf ears.  I hear them, but I do not comprehend them.  I do not ingest them.  I do not let them sink in.  Sometimes, I get this really desperate feeling to be loved.  This really desperate feeling to feel loved.  But no matter how loved I am, I do not believe it and I am left with this desperate feeling that I have had since I was a child.  Am I the one who can shift this?  Or is it something outside my control?  Will it always be this way?  Or over time will it start to change?

When I was younger I used to have these moments where I would become filled with panic.  More than panic, it was like terror really.  Terror would wash over me and I would become paralyzed.  Frozen.  Dread would fill me.  A sinking foreboding feeling.  These were the most terrifying moments of my childhood.  They would hit me suddenly, without a moment’s notice.  And they were connected to the belief that I was completely alone and always would be.  I am not alone anymore.  I have people all around me who love me and care about me.  I do not have these moments of terror as often anymore.  But I cannot shift the belief that no one loves me.  I cannot shift the belief that I am alone.  These beliefs have been ingrained in me.  I have believed them for so long.  Formed my identity around them.

So sometimes, I get this really desperate feeling.  This desperate feeling to be loved.  Sometimes I feel like I will die without it.  The child inside me cries for it.  How do I tell her she is loved now?  How do I convince her that she is not alone?  How do I tell her those lonely, painful, childhood years are over?  Sometimes I get his desperate feeling.  I felt it today.  I want to be loved.  I need to be loved.  How do I convince myself I already am?