November 4, 2021

I spent three years in therapy hoping to resolve the mass of painful burdens that were weighing me down in ways I had not imagined. I spent the greater portion of my life experiencing, witnessing, and unnecessarily carrying around pain as if it were a fabulous Birkin, honey. I shared this painful existence with my therapist, putting in a solid effort to abdicate my soul of the weighted emotion, holding me in place in stagnancy.

I yearned to feel lighter, to find my place in the sunshine, moving light-heartedly about life. My spirit sang for a freedom rooted in the struggles of my ancestors. My spirit knew that which I did not. I saw nothing wrong with the trauma I continuously lived. Those unprocessed emotions prevented me from living a life that was vibrant and fulfilling.

The first year in therapy hurt. It was not easy, reliving painful memories, acknowledging the trauma, remembering deep-seeded, pain. But for those occurrences I could not remember, my therapist had me do some intense activities, including trying to recall. My brain’s natural response for extremely hurtful experiences is to scrub the memory from access. It is referred to as a hidden memory. Sometimes the emotions would surface from an unknown trigger — a sound, a smell, a place, or even a conversation about a topic that’s not common place. The interaction would be jarring, forcing me to question up from down, left from right, and inside from outside. It made me feel raw, exposed in a way that I did not wish to show anyone. This level of vulnerability was something I only felt safe showing myself and my higher power.

Anger radiated throughout my being at what I deemed weakness. Facing my own perceived shortcomings and addressing my flaws seemed like trying to escape an underwater coffin chained shut in a Dave Copperfield-esque magic trick. I struggled with communicating and always showing up as my authentic self. I shrank myself for the comfort of others, not realizing that I was giving myself permission to be less than mediocre. I avoided the difficult conversations because it forced me to be accountable and to hold others accountable for their actions or lack there of. But through prayer, hard work, a solid support system, and stubborn Taurus determination, I began the cycle of healing.

I started this journey before even realizing I was on the path to wholeness. In 2012, I lost the person I was closest to in life and had to face a fear that no matter how much I had been prepped, I was never truly prepared. That year forced me to mature in an accelerated manner. I decided to lean into and start facing every known fear I had. After crossing a few things off of that list, I started coasting through the ebbs and flows of being a high-functioning depressed person, riddled with anxiety. I pretended everything was okay and journaled my emotions. I felt that was my only safe place, the only area I could escape to without judgment and without my imperfections being magnified. I hurt. I cried. I felt. When it got to be too much, I’d reach out to a friend, only showing a sliver of the depth of my pain. I mean, my true friends know when something is off but will give me some space to process through what I’m feeling until I’m ready to talk. I made it through and coasted some more.

Now, let’s fast forward to 2018: a series of confrontations, arguing with a childhood friend, cursing out the TSA, and a heated exchange with my mother all led me to my next cycle of healing. I had to truly come to terms that no matter how much I pretended it was, all in fact, was not well. I’d been carrying the heavy weight of other people’s approval as a means of defining my life and the path I was to take. I’d felt silenced and unheard and as a result silenced myself, feeling like my words were not important enough. It permeated frustration. Being frustrated was not propelling me to find solutions to change anything. So I sought the help of a licensed professional because I felt myself about to wild out and lose everything.

It’s 2021 and now, I do whatever I set my mind to, whether I’m ready or not. I do it afraid. I do it uncertain. I do it confidently. I do it. My perspective shifted. If I can strap a man to my back and jump out of a perfectly good airplane, I can attain the life I desire. I feel the shift and see the next area I have to work through and heal through. It’s not easy, but it’s necessary. It’s change, and any kind of change can be uncomfortable. This is that, “Is there one?” part of the service where you are called outside of your comfort zone to grow. Will you rise to the occasion and seize your greatness, or will you be stagnant in the comfort of the lane you know? The choice is yours to make and thrive with. Here’s to healing…through and through.