Mama Misfit Speaks, vol. 3

-- On Therapy

Kinda. And my journey to my present self. More like a strange update.

Since I last wrote, damn near 3 years ago, I have been able to regain control of my titties after 26 months of successfully, exclusively breastfeeding. And other shit happened too. I got a Masters, shifted careers, found love, lost that shit again...

In my mind I knew how I would start this, how it would flow. Shoulda started typing then...

Since the epic meltdown and shit show most simply call November, I have moved to a place where I fully embrace myself. Sure, there are parts I still do not like, things I want to change; but, overall, I see them as part of who I am, accept them as a whole as who I am and know that they are deserving to be loved.

In November, I hit a dark place. I lashed out at everyone, myself included and wanted to push them all away. I hit the bottom harder than I ever have before, and wanted to quit but my daughter kept me here. I do not know what prompted this collapse in my spirit. I thought I should have been at my highest point. I was in grad school, had a clear path for my future, was/am doing an amazing job raising my daughter, was in love with someone who loved me more deeply than I loved myself (at the time). But I could not get passed this driving sinking feeling, that I was failing, that I could not balance it all. That I should give it up.

My partner constantly suggested that I go back to therapy which I had not done in 4 years, and did not feel I needed; so I did not go. Not until I lost him, myself, my home, and the mother I wanted to be.

In therapy, I finally vocalized truths that I protected for years. I did not love myself, did not like myself. I would rather help others than face my own problems. I was abused as a child: emotionally and sexually. My self esteem was trash. My self worth, non existent. How could I, who should be happy and thriving in all my success, be so ready to give it all up and not even see that I was doing big things?

My therapist suggested a journal, and I quietly picked away at my surface feelings until chapters prompted me to think more deeply and start unveiling hurtful secrets. I wrote them, then discussed them with my therapist, and then had a post session session with my ex. Despite everything, he was truly my rock in this journey, and the first I trusted with these scary truths that were coming to the surface.

With their guidance, and my budding self esteem, I learned what I need to know about the past that molded me. I do not need to know who specifically did what when, where, or how. I just need to acknowledge that it did occur. I do not need to confront my abusers, at the current time, nor do I feel the need to let them know I forgive them. But I do. Had to, for myself, to be able to move on beyond the hurt and start the healing. I needed to take an open and honest look at the person they shaped, and see how I could mold her into the person she is suppose to be.

Now, I am a long way away from being that woman, because she will be ever evolving and bettering herself. She has goals and is not afraid to set ones I would not have dared of in the past. She sees a limitless existence for herself and she is willing to do the work and push herself there. She is also a woman of confidence, still shy and reserved, but sure of herself, what she wants, and what she knows to be right. She is still an amazing mother and fierce lover. She is a woman that knows her worth; and, that realizes, even as a fragment of herself, she knew her worth and what she would and could not tolerate. She will always be sensitive and easy to cry, and that does not make her weak though the world would be quick to label her as such.

It was therapy that brought me to start thing blog. And therapy that will lead me back to it.

Mama Misfit, Out.