I had entered the twilight stage. I wasn’t asleep, but I wasn’t awake; I was in a dreamlike state, and my mind was creating a story that I now know wasn’t true but felt very real at the time. Actually, I don’t know that I remember what this “dream” was about. I know I would classify it as a nightmare, and I know I dealt with it by getting out of bed several times. I peed twice, took some Magnesium, plugged a battery charger into the wall, looked out the window a few times, and did a few other random things. I drove my cat nuts with the constant up and down but noted how calm she was when I returned from one of my trips to discover I had completely covered her with my blanket and pillow.

My head was pounding. That also happens when I have a nightmare. I must get extremely tense. My solution was to grab my acupuncture pillow and intentionally focus on every sharp point as they punctured through my tender neck and scalp. It calmed me just enough to allow myself to settle into breathing. And then, the common experience of thinking during mindfulness swept me away. I didn’t fight it. I was engaged in something other than the tension and distress. Am I making any progress toward my intention for 2024?

From 2019 to 2023, I worked hard to be kind, courageous, engaged, open-minded, and curious. Now? It seems like it should be easy to allow myself to be who I am and become who I am meant to be. What is so difficult about seeing my own potential? What is arduous in noticing my capabilities?

Feelings.

My brother recently posted on his social media about a New Year’s Resolution he set in 2004: to learn to have more self-compassion. Along with that post, he mentioned his emotions. He was moving from all-or-nothing thinking. He has been on a journey of self-discovery and realizing that thoughts, actions, and especially feelings come and go; Feelings are both/and. We feel delight and pleasure, and at the same time, we feel grief or loneliness. We feel shame and guilt because of who we are, what we’ve done, or how we are feeling. And those things are not us. He wrote, “…when you’re your own champion, no feeling will be the end you…” Yet, right now, I am certain my feelings will be the end of me. My therapist asked me, in reference to a shame storm I am in, if I wanted to feel safe or be safe. I said I wanted to be dead.

Safety.

Do I want to feel safe or be safe? Shame feels safe. It is familiar; It’s predictable. And it’s keeping me from living. In fact, as I reflect on my past, I see how each and every situation that invoked shame also held me captive in secrecy. Shame and secrecy are best friends, and carrying the weight of both has, nearly every time, backed me into a corner, seeing suicide, or, at the very least, self-harm, as the only solution. It all seems like a catch-22, though. Vulnerability has historically led to more pain and shame; it’s a vicious cycle. So, it makes sense that the secrecy and shame seem safer. If things get too difficult, I pull the plug on life. But if I open myself up, I risk something far worse.

I’ve been grounded, kicked out of school and had my belongings boxed up, called a liar, treated like a whore, bullied, and forced to repent when sharing that I was sexually assaulted. And those consequences somehow opened Pandora’s box to further the occurrences of additional sexual assaults and rape. It makes sense that I am terrified to share myself—my thoughts, feelings, actions, fears, or circumstances—because what if someone takes advantage of my vulnerability again. More shame. More secrets. More pain. More distrust. More fear. Unfortunately, this goes for people who have both shown themselves to be trustworthy and those who have never given me a reason to believe they would hurt me. This includes my therapist who has had more patience with me than probably any other human being. It includes people I may never see again. It includes ME.

Fear of Failure.

What if I am not capable of anything more? What if this is all there is to me? What if I can’t get better? What if? What if? What if?

It’s Only April.

Okay, first, this blog post is a scrambled mess. My apologies. The dog is home and has been barking for hours; I didn’t take her on her usual morning walk. That has me feeling a little on edge. I’m also fighting the migraine I mentioned above. I didn’t take time to organize my thoughts before sitting down to write. Take it as it is. I’m choosing to. Second, yeah, it’s only April, and I am reflecting on my progress. I am a couple months early. The truth is, my last blog post about being disappointing still feels quite relevant.

Last night, as I lay in bed with the acupuncture pillow, I considered changing my intention. My brother’s post about self-compassion landed. I have been beating myself up for a couple months. I’m not myself. I feel afraid. I feel depressed. I feel angry. I cry a lot. I get angry that I cry a lot.

I’m not going to change my intention. I will work on being more compassionate toward myself, though. I recognize that being more self-compassionate means allowing myself to be where I am. BE. It also means allowing myself to see what I am capable of. BECOMING.

This post is a little more hope-filled than what I actually feel. Everything feels impossible right now, and I know logically it isn’t. I also know when I am not mySELF. It is difficult to focus on being and becoming when parts have taken over every moment I am living in. Managers are controlling everything and shushing those small, vulnerable versions of me; Firefighters are standing at the ready to bring everything back to “equilibrium.” They’ve all taken over, and I feel like I can’t breathe or get out. It’s as if I am locked in a room with reinforced glass, watching my life.

My therapist, who often says brilliant things that I both grapple with and hold tight to, recently said three things that I am going to try to remember to help break me out of the locked room.

1. “What is your 1%?” In other words, what are the small changes or actions to change the trajectory? I don’t know, but I will try to figure that out. It has been a while since I struggled to move back into SELF when I was hijacked.
2. “It seems you are asking for help but rejecting me.” I am asking for help. And, like I said above, I am terrified to get it. So yeah, I’m asking, but I am running away. I know that requires trusting the process. But it’s going to take some understanding on others’ part.
3. “I believed in you before you did.” I have several people who could say that, but my therapist was probably the only mental health professional directly working with me who actually believed I could heal. I wonder right now if she has that same hope. Whether she does or not, I need to remember that there are people who believe in me. There are people who are rooting for me. I’ve let myself down a lot, but I hate letting others down. If that has to be my motivation right now, then so be it.

I will re-evaluate again and again if I am making progress on my intention. I know it seems impossible to be content with who I am or who I am becoming because I don’t feel like I am myself. That makes sense. If I remain hijacked, I think I need to focus on being on my own side for a little while—handling myself with a little more compassion and understanding.