It's more than just saving myself

A few weeks ago it stopped raining for a few days which left the perfect opportunity to burn off the brush pile that had been sitting there for almost a month. With a good dousing of gasoline, it burned quite well (yes, I had a hose near). This was going to be my ceremonial fire - a way to say goodbye to some issues. Lit after three hours of push-mowing, the only thing that fire was celebrating was the fact I could still stand up.

When I originally made the pile and planned to burn it, I had this great course of action figured out. I would have some things written in regards to different aspects of my life that I either had managed to move on from or was working hard to do so. I would take the opportunity to look at them one last time then toss them in the fire and watch a lot of pain, sorrow, blame, and anger be gone (hopefully) forever. That didn't happen. It is ok, there is still plenty of brush that needs cleaned up out of my yard - plenty enough for another fire or two.

My mind continues to run away tonight. Seems it has been going non-stop since session with Tami yesterday. I still find myself asking, "what do I do now?" Generally, gaining insight and new information about things makes it all more understandable. Ok, that is still true, I understand better what is happening and why, I am just not sure what to do with it all. How do you process something that still has you going "well, crap" I figure it will come in time. Patience, patience, patience. And when happy panda ponders....he just ponders. Side note: I got to read that today. Do not think I did as good of a job as Chris does, and yet I did enjoy it. I used to read to Jordan and Brody when the were little. I don't know, it is just kind of a neat feeling. I even used to read to Ali...I just pretended that she was understanding me.

In the mission, in Tampa, we used to go to the grade school to do service once a week. Once in a while we would read with the kids. Of course, that was before my nerves and anxiety affected my speech so much. There really was a time I could be nervous, scared, and/or anxious, and you never had a clue. You know, I could go on and on about so many things that "used to be" that I do miss now. Things that may never come back around and at some level it is ok as it doesn't really matter. I think things will get better and I also think they will never go back to the way they used to be. I am also pretty confident that the only person it seems to bother is myself.

Been continuing to think of this "relationship" between me "now" and small me "then". How do you even try to label these? I try to think in my mind how I feel in different situations and try to put an age to it. For example, when I think about "small me" in the context of the little kid who can only see survival or death, I picture myself somewhere around 10. It is like when I really sit and think about it, I can almost "feel" the emotions that matched that time. I can even imagine seeing that young girl with a look in her eyes of confusion and fright. The deep desire of "I just want everyone to be happy" and the already developed belief of "if I am just better, then no one will fight." I am not sure which is harder to accept - the realization that this young child still exists, or the fact that I can remember the thoughts and emotions with so much clarity. Far too young to be carrying such burdens, although it is how it was. It would seem that little one never grew up at some level and is still carrying the burdens and thoughts. That breaks my heart - that the little one still exists and, even more, that I have fed the fears for so many years. I didn't know. I didn't know I was doing it.

I continue to think of my thoughts and actions and how they must be interpreted. I think about when the anxiety hits and I get frustrated with myself and mad at myself. As I sit with clenched fists, fighting something I am not in control of, has it continued to be received just as that message sent for so many years - "just stop it!" Or that what was happening to me was something "bad" - a consequence of a choice or action.....a punishment. Whatever the words, the meaning was simple - this was something I was doing and I needed to knock it off. It would seem that the messages I was sending just picked up where someone else left off.

I continually tell Joe to be aware of what he says around the boys as they hear all, whether he thinks they do or not. I know, because I always did. I heard a lot and, even though I struggle with memories at times, seem to remember the negative thoughts and feelings I heard and/or saw when others thought I didn't. Sometimes those left more of an impact than the ones that I was present for. I feel bad. I didn't know there was a part of myself still listening because I didn't realize the reality of that part of me still existing. Again....I didn't know. Now my biggest fear is damaging that little one even more, or worse yet, never being able to heal it.

There are other scenarios where I "feel" different ages (if that even makes sense). There is one where I feel like I am 15-16 again. Longing for acceptance and nurturing, looking for validation of just being myself and having unique thoughts and ideas. In those times, in my mind I am there. I sometimes find myself thinking - this is all I wanted and had someone just offered this, maybe I would have made different decisions as life went on.

I know I can't change the past, yet there is a part of me that hopes that I can heal it. Kind of that re-interpreting things. If I have been able to move 19 year old Blewy away from "you are a horrible person who chose to do a horrible thing", then maybe there is hope to teach young Blewy that it is ok to not always be afraid and it is ok to trust, and maybe teenage Blewy might eventually feel validated that she is good and worthy of receiving comfort. Who knows, maybe in the end, 43 year old Blewy will learn how to live without overwhelming fear of failure and rejection.

It makes me wonder "who" I am in class. Actually, I go in as 43 year old Blewy, so I wonder who I leave as. As I think about it, it is not that hard to figure out based on how I have reacted so far. It's pretty simple. That would be 29 year old Blewy...oh wait, 28, I wouldn't be 29 for another month. Yup, 28 year old Blewy, sitting in the ER, scared as hell as so many people she knew stood there - some in her judgement, some just there, none putting their arms around her to tell her it was going to be ok. No one to validate the emotions of fear, uncertainty, and desire to just disappear. No one understood that I "hurt" - which makes sense on some level because I couldn't even understand it. I still believe that the psych nurse was an angel who was trying to let me know that she understood. I just did not know how to interpret that kind of validation.

I know Chris and Tami hate it when I use the word broken, although I came out of that hospital broken. I have never been the same on a certain level. It is like parts of me just froze in time. As I think about young Blewy, the hospital experience must have been so terrifying. There was nothing she could do to make it safer, there was no keeping everyone happy. Teenage Blewy was just reminded of how her actions not only inconvenienced others but also brought a level of shame and disgrace on the family. Thoughts, feelings, emotions, and fears that would be continually validated through the years to come. Yes, there was validation, just of the wrong things. Maybe that is why I have such mastery in less effective things.

My life feels like it just went from a 100 piece puzzle to a 5000 piece, double sided puzzle. I don't know how many times I have thought in the past 36 hours "this is so much bigger than I realized" and then just had a desire to turn and run as fast as I could as far as I could.

I then just remind myself that I don't have to do the puzzle alone, not anymore.