It Is My Story

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I know that you are trying to help…  it is the memes, man, the memes…

 

Dear Memes,

 

Please let me own my story

 

It is my story

 

Please do not ask me to let it go

 

Please do not expect me to be strong

 

Please do not suggest that I embrace the magical beauty of everyday

as if this is not the ONLY piece of my existence which is keeping me moving through my trauma

as if this will be what sustains me due to your suggestion

as if I am doing another thing wrong in addition to being in this trauma, which I must correct in order to be right with my world

 

Please let me own my story

 

It is my story

 

Please hold space for my story

 

Please truly listen to the reality of my story

 

Please help me find the nuggets of wisdom and strength from my story so that

I may truly own my story,

instead of my story owning me

 

Please

and

Thank You

 

Maybe, in time, this is how the trauma-ed we can move beyond the tragic defining moments of our lives.

 

Thank you for your help.  Y’all are awesome and SO needed!

 

Love, Ms. Herisme xo

ps this post seems to have an ungrateful twinge to it.  I do not feel ungrateful for all of the love, prayers, and support. I am eternally and supremely grateful!

I am doing a terrible job of trying to express that something feels so wrong to me.

All of us experiencing or having experienced trauma, want desperately to be out of it. We never wanted to be in it.  We want to be healed.  We want to feel healed and safe and healthy.  Being pushed to “drop it” “let it go” etc feels like “pretend it didn’t happen and stop speaking about it because it is making everyone uncomfortable now because can’t you go to yoga and release it to the winds of time because we want to be surrounded with positive light people full of happy inspiration fulfilling lives and you are totes bringing us down with your story…”

Why can’t we just know and acknowledge that shitty crappy things and people and circumstances are afoot, beyond the discomfort of too much laundry waiting to be folded, or dishes to be cleaned, or cars needing repaired (although, I acknowledge that these can be supremely stress inducing too)?

Why can’t we stop “healing” from some awfulness with an anticipated date of completion, as if once the stitches are gone and the skin is healed, the vibrant scars should never be explained or noted or spoken about, except in whispers?

Why can’t awful things, people, circumstances, be recognized as such and as a normal part of being human?

Why can’t we decide and own our stories instead of shoving them aside as if they are trash to be left on the curbside?

Our stories define us, no matter how we fancy them up or how we choose to address/discard them.

Why can’t we just own them and shape the hopefully eventual wisdom of living them in combination with all of our stories, and still be okay to have all of our stories?

I want to own my story so that it cannot own me.

Or, maybe I’m just a big meanie who needs a drink and a yoga break and let it go…

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