We can benefit from finding ways to comfort ourselves with activities that bring us a sense of security so that we can feel peace.
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A PANDEMIC? Anxiety has been something I have struggled with my entire life. In recent years it’s gotten worse. Most days it’s very manageable .. aside from the darker days. But right now, all I feel is anxiety. It is rushing back like a wave in the middle of an ocean during a tornado and I am the little lifebuoy that doesn’t stand a chance.
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How do we define trauma? It’s a mutual understanding that trauma involves a deeply distressing or disturbing experience. But the embodiment of trauma and its specific impact can vary significantly from person to person. For Jenna, trauma comes in many forms.
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The road to vulnerability is a long one. Not static. Not easy. Not without cost. Not without the brilliant dichotomy of beauty & tragedy. The shedding of skin. Transformation. Losing oneself to an identity you may have spent years building & the subsequent unexpected grief that accompanies that loss.
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Today, I had an “ah ha” moment where I realized; I’ve turned every single aspect of daily functionality into a task on my to-do list of life. I am consumed with the idea of organizing and formulating the next task that needs to be complete.
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Here I go, unveiling my story, god this makes me feel extremely vulnerable and anxious.
How did I get here?
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It's like this constant pit in my stomach. It keeps turning ever so slightly, uneasy, and nauseating. It feels like it only takes the brush of a light breeze to send it whirling into full spiral mode. Grasping for anything that feels stable - anything that feels real in the world of make believe the mind creates.
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I can remember writing this journal page vividly. My hope was if I could see the patterns of the spiraling down, I could grab ahold of the signs and triggers of the isolation I was feeling. It took a long while before I could begin creating a plan to dig myself out of the recycled patterns of the darkness I was living in.
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I’m frustrated, I’m angry, and I am really embarrassed. After sitting with “the situation” I am referring to for a few days, it dawned on me that it was time to use my own voice and blog about this recent situation I experienced.
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You are so used to being identified and known for what or who they think you “are”… are you your job, are you your disease, are you your abuse, are you your anxiety, your gender, your body, your looks? Your answer to this question doesn’t matter because really, you are what they choose to define you as today, likely to be different tomorrow. But, you know that you are not defined by what you do, or how you look, or any one single thing that builds the package that is you. The pressure of creating definitions, and attempting to fit pieces of you into varying small little boxes feels like too much to handle. You’re left standing there holding pieces of yourself that have no place wondering where these “you’s” belong.
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The mirror has always been my biggest enemy. I have always looked at it with disgust, picking every flaw apart, overanalyzing, and wishing to be something I wasn’t. Wishing I would see a different reflection, wishing my legs were smaller, or my stomach was flatter, that I was a little shorter and much skinner. Never did I look in the mirror and see the good. Everything that I ate that wasn’t within my normal healthy regimen made me feel fat and regretful, immediately. How exhausting and sad is that? I’ll tell you, the answer is very, it’s all consuming actually.
What if together we can begin a local movement to allow all ages to write in and share their stories. Whether they want to write, share photographs, lyrics, or have us help them share their thoughts in a way that allows them to creatively express their feelings so that others can resonate in them and realize that together we are more powerful than the isolation that we sometimes feel in our own thoughts.
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