Awe, weren’t we cute? Your favorite exes. Ah, 2017 what a time to be alive. I wanted to say that my life's been downhill ever since but that’d would’ve been partially true because to me, I was living my best life navigating a huge self discovery stage, stepping on you bitches necks while simultaneously being manic asf lmfao.
What I didn’t know at the time, I was trying to cope with the loss of my sense of direction, sense of self and my relationship. Damn, triple homicide.
Somebody said grieving relationships are similar to death. Well bitch I think my romantic life is cursed cause all these niggas dead to me lmfao ok, I’m jocing bad.
But cutting niggas off and continuing on with my life literally was my version of “moving on”. After countless times of altering my boundaries, non-reciprocated energy, repetitive arguments… you can go ahead meet Whitney Houston in the vip. Cause you are nonexistent to me. “Because that shit you pulled in the kitchen, I should’ve fucked you up but I let you slide”(Precious).
My last relationship was so “insightful” that after I was done dating that man I switched from dating monogamously to dating polyamorously, using jocing as a form of therapy because I was desiring for a deep connection to replace the void I felt of losing someone I considered my best friend. (I didn't realize it at the time but we'll get to that)
I picked partners that were like confidants for me. Partners that taught me how to be vulnerable. Partners who I'd call in crisis when I needed to vent or help me make decisions. I picked partners based on friendship. So after a pattern of watching the men I choose repetitively not show up for me, once I hit failed relationship number 3 I was like "hold up"..."YALL DONT FIND THAT SUSPICIOUS"???????????
Something clicked in me, and when I say something clicked I mean I started watching Iyanla Vanzant videos.
I had this mindset that relationships are this endless thing. Like if we locked in AINT NO SWITCHING UP! Welcome to Death Row bitch. I feel like and felt like relationships aren't hard you just really gotta be willing to do the work. Most relationships I know end because of lack of communication, inconsistency, complacency, or loss of compatibility in some shape or form. I always seen all these things as fixable or thought it was my job to fix the person I was with. I would keep trying and trying and giving chances until I've had enough.
I later learned that I had been attracting a lot of emotional avoidant ass men because I had an anxious attachment style derived from my upbringing and I lacked boundaries.
I want to say that it was at this moment I begun my healing work but tbh I was simply surviving.
Not only did I lose my relationship, I "lost" my job (my term ended and they didn't rehire me and had the audacity to tell me a week before my term ended... girl f*ck them people and that job). I became homeless for a summer and had to stay with a friend until I could get back on my feet, and just as I thought things were "normal" the following semester my dad passed away the week before my 21st birthday fall 2018.
You woulda thought at this moment I'd reach my breaking point but me being me I just went even harder. Traveled more, dated more, trolled even harder. And that's on what? Using trauma as character development.
Fast forward to 2019, and I'm sitting in front of the Program Director for my new job at the radio station interviewing for internship credits to graduate, as the words “so what do you want to do?" escapes from his mouth.
Tbh, withdraw. I wanted to withdraw.
But, I had spent 5 plus years at an university, building and being apart of these organizations of course I’m going to finish. I just have to and I have to do it now.
A break to me meant I had failed myself. If I couldn’t “push through”, then ??? What do you mean? I was the push through queen.
What I didn’t realize is the more I denied my truth, I wasn’t pushing through I was breaking down.
Until February 2020, I reached my breaking point.
Right before the pandemic, I was admitted into a mental institution and diagnosed with bipolar/schizoaffective disorder after having a major mental breakdown for those wondering why I went awol for 3 years.
I withdrew from the university on medical leave...Which I wish someone would've told me earlier that all I had to do (because I was having a mental health crisis and wanted to withdraw but didn't know where to go) was get admitted and get a letter from the mental institution sent over to the university.
God ordered and still is ordering my steps and aligned me to the destination I kept running from. Home.
The starting point to where I begin running. The starting point to where I learned to love, where I learned to hate. Where my insecurities and fears first begin and where my self discovery also commenced. After 18 years of putting together the pieces I realized that Lake Charles wasn’t home for me, it was a starting point. So to be back at the place I had been literally running from, I felt like a failure.
But what I didn't know that this would be the initiation of my grieving and healing process.
After being admitted into 4 hospitals, I had to relearn cognitive skills, and basically how to talk...hell to have simple conversations was damn near impossible to me, let alone write a song or a blog. I was miserable. Not only was I grieving the past, I was mourning the loss of the person I once was. Honestly, I thought I was living in a fever dream and thought I'd never be back to myself.
When we think of loss and grieving we often think people or death. We don't think about grieving the loss of a job, a friendship, a future outcome/the unknown, losing your financial stability or life changes in general like leaving college, having a close friend move away, or simply missing a certain time period of your life.
"I think we go through so much that we don't stop and process. We endure, but we don't stop and give ourselves time to take in what happened. We move on, push forward, until the next thing comes along and forces us to once again have something to work through. "
The ultimate question is: Are you really processing your trauma and allowing yourself to grieve or are you just destination hopping? Or are you avoiding the grieving process and suppressing because you don't have the capacity to fall apart?
A lot of us are experiencing what I like to call Present Traumatic Stress Disorder (Not post traumatic stress disorder) because we are still living within continuous stress/triggers and are never truly able to process our grief or trauma because falling apart requires us to acknowledge the broken pieces and a lot of us are already in shambles simply trying to survive.
I think the theme of this section of my life is learning how to forgive myself for what I did when I was in survival mode. Forgiving myself for the things I allowed, forgiving myself for the things that I couldn't control, forgiving others and setting boundaries where needed.
"Ask yourself what am I still holding to?", "Why and I still holding to it?", and "Does it still serve me?"
I’m so mad at myself cause I held on to ALOT of anger towards myself and others after my psychosis.
I was upset at myself for letting my mental health even get this bad. I was upset at my psychiatrist for prescribing me harmful medicines with side affects that stunted my growth. I was especially mad at my mom for admitting me in the first place.
I just couldn't face the reality that I'm not the girl that I use to be anymore: My views and my social skills have changed drastitcallly, I'm more dependent on others, on top of that I gained hella weight. (all results of my psychosis)
I was upset at God, cause I couldn't understand WHY? Why would God put me through this? But tbh, I don't think I would've took a break if he hadn't. I was moving too fast.
I feel like the most important thing I've learned from my journey is to take things slowly. Things take time. I feel like we live in such a “do this”, and “ready set go” society that we forget the importance of rest.
The tortoise won the race over hare because the rabbit burnt himself out trying to reach the endline. While the tortoise was just enjoying the ride because he had faith that he’d not only just arrive, but in the timing best for him. Sometimes we need that time of isolation to slow down, so we can reach the finish line. And not only reach it but be able to bask in our victory once we arrive.
So as we enter the new year, I welcome you to allow yourself to grieve this year. Write a letter to your younger self. Make a collage of all your darkest moments and burn them. Book that therapy session. Revisit that playlist from 2015. Cry, and then cry some more. Because what's grief if not love preserving?
With love and light,
Your Favorite *Still figuring it out* Content Creator
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