Day Twenty-one: Go to a wreck room.So, here's the thing.
Maybe I left this wreck room item for far too long. The idea was to be able to get out some anger and aggression and frustration. While every now and then, something comes up that makes me frustrated, I don't really feel that kind of anger like I did at the beginning of the breakup. And I think it's for two reasons. 1. I'm in a very different place now than I was then. I have a lot to be happy about and to look forward to that either wasn't present at the time of the breakup or that I was unable to see because I was blinded by anger and depression. ♡I have discovered what friendship looks like--especially true and strong female friendship. ♡ I have learned to let go of the tight grip I have over my life. My therapist and I are still working on it, but my desire to be in control of everything has decreased. ♡I have learned what it looks like to have someone be patient and kind and understanding of your trauma and baggage and still look at you like you're the only person in a room. ♡ I have learned how to ask for help when I need it. ♡ I have learned to be vulnerable and have discovered the strength in it. ♡ I have learned that grief isn't reserved for death, but also for loss of people who are still alive and the life you thought you would have. ♡ I have learned what my limits and my desires in a relationship would look like. ♡ I love going to work and am so proud of the agency I am a part of. ♡ I have learned to slow down and enjoy the little things. 2. Anger is often a secondary emotion. That means while people tend to show anger often, it's usually the "easier" emotion to feel and express rather than the more "shameful" or "difficult" feelings that may be at the root of the experience. So, yes, I was really angry at the beginning of the breakup. Actually, most of my anger was after both my ex-partner and ex-friend betrayed me. And while I do think some of that anger is a primary emotion, it was definitely secondary to other feelings, too. In the first example, I use anger as only a primary emotion. In the second, I'm explaining what I was likely feeling as the primary emotion but used anger as a way to cover up those other more icky-feeling emotions. Anger as the Only Primary Emotion: Ex-partner texted me to tell me that he and my ex-friend had been dating for awhile but are going to make it official soon→Anger towards my ex-partner for moving on so quickly and for choosing to do so with my former roommate/our friend→Anger towards my ex-friend for violating my trust and friendship and dating my partner/fiance of eight years→Anger at myself for "allowing" this to happen and for trusting anyone in the first place. Anger as Mostly a Secondary Emotion: Ex-partner texted me to tell me that he and my ex-friend had been dating for awhile but are going to make it official soon→Feeling rejected and replaced by my partner of eight years→Feeling abandoned by the friend that I had confided in about my relationship and breakup and confused about how she could so easily disregard our friendship and trust→Feeling disgusted and worthless about myself as a partner/friend/lover (including feeling ugly and my self-esteem hitting rock bottom) and feeling like I can't trust my own gut feelings or my choices anymore (since I chose a partner and friend who could do something like this to someone they said they cared about)→Feeling shocked that this situation was really my life and not some stupid soap opera. See the difference? But at the time of the event, I couldn't see past my anger. I could not have told you that what I was really feeling was betrayal, shock, confusion, rejection, worthless, disgusted, and abandonment. Our brains can't make sense of all of our feelings at once when something traumatic happens to us. It goes into fight/flight/freeze response, and even if it's not literally physically fighting/flying/freezing, our feelings can reflect that. For example, when my partner first broke up with me in November, I was in freeze mode--I didn't tell anyone for weeks and basically pretended it wasn't happening. After the partner/friend fiasco, I was fighting--I was feeling anger and was ready to fight my way through this. After some time and therapy and supportive friends, I started really processing what I was feeling both at the moment these experiences happened, but also the experiences of life after a traumatic breakup. I learned to identify all of those (true) primary feelings and then how to work through them. Some of them were stuck points about my self worth. I've really been working on this stuck point and reminding myself that just because I was replaced, doesn't mean I'm not an amazing individual with strengths just like everyone else. I'm unsure of whether I will ever move past being confused or feeling abandoned. But I am learning how to trust again--and continually reminding myself of all the people in my life who haven't betrayed me. Identifying these primary emotions and working through some stuck points and beliefs I have from the experience has allowed me to truly start moving on from the trauma and the people who hurt me. I'm not saying anger is never a primary emotion--or even a "bad" emotion (p.s. there are no good or bad emotions; emotions are for a reason and inform us of something in our environment or within ourselves), but I would encourage everyone to dig a little deeper and find that other emotion that may be at the root of what you're feeling. It can lead to a deeper understanding of self and can help you to move on from the pain. So, while I didn't go to a wreck room to work on the anger I was feeling, I did process it--just with less showmanship and broken kitchen plates. Letting go of the Anger, Farrah ♥
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Day Twenty: Hide/Pack away photos & mementos.My friend, Jesse, has been helping me transport boxes of things from my ex-partner to my apartment, being an emotional support as I go through all the items (and the aftermath of all the things that it triggers), and helping me donate or move extra items to storage.
This weekend, I got in Jesse's car to go to lunch and saw a small, purple box in the back of his car. I had totally forgot about it. It is a box my ex-partner gave me a long time ago, with the intention to fill it with memories, mementos, and photos. It had filled up quickly and we had moved on to storing or displaying them in other ways. Something made me grab for the box. I saw Jesse sit a little straighter in his seat, no doubt preparing himself to be whatever support it was that I needed in that moment. Probably thinking to himself, "Oh, shit. Okay, I wasn't expecting today to go like this, but I got this. I'm ready. Okay. Let's do this." He was silent as he watched me open the purple box and start pulling out dozens of things from ex-partner. I read notes. I read love letters and cards that he had given me the first year or two of our relationship. I found a CD that I totally forgot he had made me. There were pictures from two different photo booth sessions. So many reminders of what had been--and what I thought was going to be my life. Jesse steadied himself as I turned to him after putting everything back in the box and putting the box back in the trunk of his car. "Hmmm. Weird. I feel okay. I feel fine--good, even," I said. And I meant it. I didn't feel triggered. I didn't feel sad or angry or anxious or depressed or numb. I didn't have the desire to ask my ex-partner and ex-friend a million questions about why and how and what. It just, was. I looked over at Jesse, who was smiling. I was happy sitting in that car with him on a Saturday afternoon, with a hungry tummy and the promise of good food and arcade games and sunshine. I know every day won't be like this. But more and more of my days are. For the first time in a long time, I'm feeling hopeful. I can think of the future without feeling dread. I can accept what has happened is shitty and I have been betrayed, but that doesn't mean everyone is going to break my heart or trust. I'm laughing more and talking less about the trauma...Thanks to doing the things on this list, and the people supporting me, and my family and friends, and my therapist, and my job, and Jesse. Before driving off, Jesse asked me if I still felt up to going out. He asked if he could help with anything or if I needed anything. I grabbed his hand. "Much better," I said with a smile. He smiled, too. With happiness, Farrah ♥ Day Nineteen: Make a list of things you’ll miss/NOT miss about them.Today, I'm in a weird funk.
I had been doing relatively well, other than having this "impending doom" feeling. Have you ever had that before? I've had so many crises happen the last ...well, year? that because things have been going relatively well for a few weeks, my brain is literally waiting for something to fall apart. It has become such a pattern, that it has literally changed my brain. When I heard my ex-partner's name yesterday, it sent me straight into a weird place. Not a spiraling place. Not an overwhelmingly emotional place. Just...a weird fog. (Apparently that's all my brain needs when looking for a trigger...) So, while I'm in this fog, I wanted to do one of the more emotionally difficult items on my list. I have been putting off this listing exercise for a long time. I'm not entirely sure why...maybe because I didn't want to have to list good things about my ex-partner or our relationship yet. Maybe I didn't want to admit to the fact that our relationship wasn't all good, and that there were negative things that I overlooked time and time again. When I started writing these lists, I still tried to keep my distance from them. I wrote with my arm extended as far away as possible from me. I wrote quickly and didn't reread the lists. As I type this, the list is shoved under the keyboard where I can't see it. (Pause). Okay, so I pulled it out. I made myself reread it. And I have very mixed feelings. Reading the things I will miss about my ex-partner and our relationship gives me a pit in my stomach. I will never have those things again... ...with him. But that doesn't mean that it won't ever happen again for me. In reality, some of the things on that list have already happened with other very important people in my life. Like road trips and traveling and building things and Sunday breakfasts. This is a reminder that one person does not need to fulfill all of the positive, good, or fun things in your life. They can be accomplished and experienced with multiple people--or even by yourself. Rereading the list of things that I will not miss about my ex-partner and our relationship brought the same sinking feeling to my stomach. I started trying to explain them away with excuses. The same excuses I used when he and I were together. I had to make myself stop. I had to remind myself that while some of the behaviors could be explained, it didn't excuse the fact that those behaviors had become patterns and happened repeatedly. I had to remind myself that just because the relationship has ended, it doesn't mean that I failed. It doesn't mean that I'm a screw-up. It simply means that it has ended. And while I'm not going to 'air my dirty laundry' here, it was a reminder again of the things that I don't want in my next relationship. I still have a burning desire to throw these lists in the trashcan...almost like I don't want them to continue to follow me. I don't want either list to be running through my mind. That burning desire is to move on. To let go. To stop giving power to people who inflicted so much pain in my life. (Pause). I made the basket. Next. Moving on, Farrah ♥ Day Seventeen: Do a photoshoot. Change your profile pic.When I first added this item, it was because I wanted to have a really cool new profile picture for my social media. So many of my photos are with my ex-partner or my ex-friend is included in them, too. It was pretty surface level at first: I wanted to look amazing AF just for the pure purpose of looking amazing AF. Then, it shifted a little bit. (Let me be clear--that's totally fine. And I still did it for that purpose, too.) Not only did I want to look good and feel good about myself and the way I look, but there was something deeper that I wanted to achieve. You see, I have felt like I was living in my ex's shadow for a long time. Like, for a really long time. He is charismatic and the type that everyone notices. He is charming and funny and oh-so talented. (Plus, to be fair, I've always thought he was attractive: tall, dark, handsome with gorgeous eyes...) We were always together, and his personality and the way he held himself took up space. I don't do that. I don't light up a room like he does. I don't wow people with my talent. I don't turn heads. So I started to become accustomed to being the shadow and for him to be in the limelight. Doing a photoshoot where I was the only subject forced me to become more comfortable being alone. It forced me to feel myself in my own skin. It forced me to be okay with being the focus of attention. I had to shake off my insecurities and laugh about my signature awkwardness. I even tapped into my sexy side for a hot second--which I haven't felt in years. I had a bunch of people offer their photography skills for this challenge (thank you so much everyone!) My former 'boss' from my Seton Hill University Resident Assistant days and good friend, Dave, reached out, asking if I still needed a photographer. He explained to me that he had the idea of trying to capture different feelings that happen after a break-up. Things like frustration, anger, maybe some sadness...but then to shift to other things, like the weight off your shoulders that sometimes happens. Or learning how to feel comfortable and confident in your own skin. And learning who the hell the new "you"--the single "you"--even is after such a long time with someone else. I loved the idea, and so we ran with it. Dave made the whole experience fun and easy. He guided me through the process, always asked for my input, gave me freedom to experiment with how I was feeling, and asked me to tap into some deep shit. He didn't want this to just be any old photoshoot. He wanted it to be therapeutic for me. And it really was. We started with reminders of the relationship. I brought an old mug with a saying my ex-partner used to say to me all the time. I brought a copy of a photo and a note he put on my dorm room wall once. And I destroyed them. I was pretty hesitant to smash this mug at first. I didn't know if it would actually make me feel better, but I've never smashed anything before, so I wanted to try. I thought about what was behind that piece of ceramic in front of me. I thought about the betrayal and hurt. I thought about how he used to say that to me. I thought about the real reason he had bought the mug in the first place. I remembered the anger I felt when I saw my ex-partner and ex-friend together for the first time. And then I broke that mug. And I hit it again. And again. Tbh y'all, it felt pretty damn good. And I felt pretty accomplished afterwards. Burning the photo and note felt similarly. Dave asked me to think about how it felt to look at these mementos now versus before the breakup. He asked me to think about what it feels like moving forward and to leave this stuff in ashes behind me. If you look at the photos, you can see a progression of how I felt during each experience. (I thought about posting those photos here, but I've been careful to keep my ex-partner and ex-friend's identities semi-confidential for those who may be reading and don't know me personally, so I won't be posting those photos here.) Dave and I agreed that we didn't want to spend too much time on my ex-partner. We wanted to focus on moving forward. On the shaky confidence that is growing each day. On feeling good and happy and bubbly and beautiful. But I also wanted to feel like a total badass warrior queen. Dave delivered. Finding these abandoned, smashed up cars and storefront was weirdly perfect. It was empowering for me to put on a feminine lace dress, black boots, and jump on the hoods of those smashed up cars. To sit among the wreckage. To overcome this forgotten place. It felt symbolic to what has happened to me...the wreckage of my relationship. The abandonment of everything I thought my future would hold. The smashed vehicles of my partnership and friendship. I walked through it all, and I felt strong and powerful. I felt sexy and comfortable and confident. I was overcoming and rising above. It was the perfect symbolism for where I am in my healing process.
The other night, I went to Dave's house and he allowed me to look through all of the photos. He asked me, "How does it feel to look at these now?" It felt...weird. I felt vulnerable looking through all of the photos he took of me, critiquing each one, picking my favorites. But that soon gave way to me feeling really empowered and really proud of myself. I felt worthy of being in the limelight, and of owning not only my quirky and awkward beauty, but also my strength and where I am in my healing process. Thank you again, Dave, for this amazing experience. It has helped me grow, and the photos are beautiful and more than I could have imagined. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Rising above the wreckage, Farrah ♥ Day Sixteen: Do something nice for someone else.I like to think that I tend to do something nice for others pretty regularly, both in my personal and professional life. My father instilled in me the importance of ensuring that others feel appreciated and to never take those around you for granted. He reminded me of the importance of telling people you love them, and to tell them often.
I've been at the lowest point in my life in the last few months. It has felt like absolute rock bottom down here. I know I haven't done my best at ensuring that the people around me feel loved. I have taken a lot from others during this--time, energy, love, support...and in large quantities or in many visits. And they haven't asked anything in return from me. They have sat with me for hours when I cry or yell or just can't be alone and have "shushed" me when I try to thank them or ask them what I can do for them. They have been selfless and I am forever grateful. Most of these generous people have been in my life for a long time: Nate, Sarah, Jesse, Steven, Courtney, Nikki, Ben... I can't thank y'all enough for all that you've done for me during what has been the most traumatic experience of my life thus far. I love you to pieces. Thank you for continuing to love and support me. Thank you for your unending friendship and patience. Thank you for continuing to show up for me and proving me wrong when I say "I can't trust anyone in my life anymore." You give me hope that I can learn to love and trust again. And then there are four ladies that haven't been in my life for very long: Caitlin, Erin, Abby, and Marisa. These ladies are my coworkers and therapists at PAAR. And I wanted to do something nice for them specifically. You see, these ladies came into my life on October 30--my first day of work at PAAR. My ex broke up with me on November 11. I think I mentioned this before, but at first, I didn't tell anyone in my life that my ex had left me. I didn't want to be pitied. I didn't want to explain everything a million times. But mostly, if I told the important people in my life that my ex had left me, it would make it real. So, a few days after it happened, I needed to tell someone, but I didn't want to tell my friends or family or Facebook. Instead, I blurted it out to these ladies. They barely knew my name or where my office was located. We had literally known one other for two weeks. But, it didn't matter. They listened and held space for me to grieve. They gave hugs and asked how I was doing regularly. They tricked me into getting out of the office (french fries, Erin?) or to go on walks (post office runs definitely need two people). They gave me coffee or smelly things or stress putty or fluffy llama pillows to ground me at work. Then my ex told me he was dating my close friend. I spiraled. Again, they stepped up. They got me out for dinner or lunch or drinks. They were awake at 3am when I was ruminating and thought I was going crazy. When I complained about not wanting to go to therapy (p.s. if you don't want to go that means you definitely need to go), they would encourage me to get my ass out the door. They sent me funny gifs. We went to events and chatted about books and I met their pets. We laughed a lot and they let me cry a lot. They provided the kind of insight and non-judgment that comes with having therapist friends. To most people, this sounds like a normal friendship. And you're right--it is. But it's additionally special to me because none of them had to do this for me. Not one of these beautiful ladies knew anything about me. We didn't have that foundation of similar interests and fun excursions and years of hanging out. But that didn't matter. All four of them embraced me in ways that I never imagined would happen. They did all the things that a lifelong bestie does--without any of that history. And they still haven't left. They never get annoyed when I talk about the breakup or how I'm feeling. They still want to hang out with me. They remind me of my strength and resiliency on a daily basis. Their wit and confidence and insight make my life richer. I had no idea that when I accepted my job at PAAR that I would find friendships like these. So, to honor these ladies and our new (but somehow crazy strong) friendships, I gifted them with what I like to call "grownup friendship bracelets." Each of them have the coordinates of where our tribe began: PAAR. At a time where I felt like I was floating and learning how I fit into all of my old friend groups, I also found a new group: one that has never known me with my ex. And there is something powerful in that. Thank you again to everyone who has been supporting me through my healing. I promise to be there for you if you ever need anything, and I promise to do better at showing you just how grateful I am for you. Always, Farrah ♥ Seeing My Ex-partner and Ex-friend Again.Yesterday, one of my best friends passed his dissertation defense and is now a doctor. (Congrats, again! I'm so excited for you and proud of all your accomplishments!) To celebrate, a bunch of his friends met up at a restaurant to get him well-drunk (the guy deserves it). There were about 20 of us there...including my ex-partner and his girlfriend, my ex-close friend.
I knew ahead of time that they would be there. A few people asked me why I would go if I knew they would be there or how this even happened. So, first, here's how it happened: 1. I read the Facebook invite. Saw that my ex had RSVP'd as "yes." 2. I started crying and shaking. 3. I realized just how important it was for me to be there for my best friend during one of the biggest accomplishments of his life. 4. I RSVP'd "yes." 5. I vomited. And here is why I decided to go, regardless of how many people (including myself) thought it was too soon (my partner broke up with me November 11 and became FB official with my friend January 1): I decided that my ex-partner and ex-friend would stop influencing my decisions to go to events that they would also be attending. (Of course, they aren't telling me not to go or trying to control my actions, but it is likely easier for them to go to events as a happy couple than it is for me to show up and see my exes happy together while I'm alone and still in pain.) Also, this is about my best friend, not about me and my shit. I want to be there for him, just like he has been there for me through so many happy and devastating times in my life. I was terrified, and I had no idea what was going to happen. So, I came up with a plan. I'm a social worker, so I understand the importance of preparing for a difficult meeting, and I wasn't going to kid myself here: I was putting myself in an emotionally charged situation and I needed to be ready for it. So, I safety planned for myself: 1. I would arrive with someone else (thanks, Jesse!). This way, I had support for the minute that I saw the two of them and would feel less vulnerable than standing there alone. 2. I would have a designated person to be my support for the night. Jesse was ready to leave if I needed to do so, walk outside with me if I needed fresh air, talk with me if I was upset, and just generally check in with me throughout the night. 3. I would limit my drinks to one per hour. I didn't want to cope with difficult feelings with alcohol, plus I didn't want to get drunk and have a meltdown or say something stupid and feel more shame/guilt the next day. 4. I wouldn't spend the night afterwards alone. If you've read some of my past blog posts, my empty bed and apartment can trigger some serious spirals for me. I didn't know what was going to happen, and I didn't think it was a good idea for me to go home and sit with only my thoughts for hours upon hours. So, I showed up. I had been shaking all day. I couldn't eat and I didn't sleep well the night before. But I showed up. And y'all, it went much better than I thought it would. The initial shock of seeing them when I first walked in was--difficult. I remember my ex nodding towards me, but I truly don't remember what I did in response. Probably froze and then walked away, to be completely honest. (Smooth, right?) Throughout the night, I caught glimpses of the both of them. At first, it shot panic through my body, but by the end of the night, I didn't feel much of anything. Everyone at the celebration was supportive. Everyone came over to talk to me and see how I was doing, tell me they thought it was awesome that I had worked up the courage to be there, and to catch up. And, honestly, it felt--normal? Is that the word? Of course, at the beginning of most conversations, the person asked how I was holding up, but after a few sentences, we had moved on to everyday, general life things: engagements, the baby at the party, auditions in the community, work problems, new board games, past inside jokes... It felt good to feel a part of a group again. I have been struggling with where I fit for the last few months. It's not that my friends were intentionally leaving me out or anything, but I have been attempting to figure out how I function and interact with others again as a single person. And, to be honest, our friend group has changed. It has shifted and evolved and it's no longer the same as it used to be. So trying to figure out where and how I fit in with the people I love and care about has been a new challenge for me, but I feel like I'm starting to figure that out. I'm learning who "my people" are (not that I'm asking anyone to choose sides or anything!) and that feels good. I feel less alone after last night's event. Don't get me wrong--it was still really, really hard to see him kiss her forehead. Or to see her looking up at him so happily. Or him touch her face. But I held my own last night. I stood confident in myself. I didn't crumble; instead, I held my head high. I'm so glad that I pushed myself to go. Not only for myself, but so I could celebrate my best friend's accomplishment. It meant a lot to me to be there. Healing is linear, and last night was a high point. Finally. Standing tall (with your unending support), Farrah ♥ Day Fifteen: Burn, Purge, Donate, Cleanse.Last night, I went through what are some of the last boxes my ex has sent me of ...stuff. I would say my stuff, but in reality, most of it was "our" stuff.
I've looked through at least a dozen boxes in the last two months. And while it sounds like there may be a few more on their way, I've gotten through the majority of it. Y'all. This part effing sucks. It feels like torture. I have sorted through the dishes we picked out together after our engagement. I've had to look through boxes of photos. Gifts that we made for each other. Reminders of trips together and weekends away and just every day life as a couple. You have to remember: we spent our entire adult life together. So everything that filled our apartment was bought together. Almost everything holds a memory. It took some time, but I have sorted everything into three categories: Save, Donate, and Burn. I'm saving things that don't trigger any immediate or overwhelming memories. Things like art supplies, furniture, kitchen knives, etc. Yes, if I think about it too much, I can remember when we bought them or a memory of us making Thanksgiving dinner, but it isn't an automatic emotional response. These things are also more practical items that I can replace over time if I need to, but are kind of needed to be a functioning adult. I'm donating things that have emotional attachments, but someone else could benefit from, rather than burning it all to a crisp. Some of these things are t-shirts of places we went or that I slept in, a few mugs, blankets/sheets/towels, books, etc. I no longer want these things around me, but I also feel like an asshole if I destroy them when I know there are other people who could use these things. I'm burning things that have a strong trigger response for me. I'm burning photos, our bucket list photo album, a sweatshirt, our "be in our wedding party" boxes, the painting with a personal note on the back, etc. Things that, if I see them one more time, I will explode into a million emotions. So, last night, I took the box of items to burn to a friends' house. I took a few shots of vodka, played some music, and started throwing things one by one on the fire. I chose what I wanted to burn in a very strategic order. The least emotionally attached objects were first. I didn't really feel much when I watched those items catch on fire. I felt--numb. Like it was just another task on my to-do list for the day. That continued until I got to the bottom of the box, to the three things I knew were the most emotionally charged: framed photos of us together, a "Come What May" painting he had done for me, and the stuffed bear that he had won from a claw machine on one of our first dates. I started at those things in the box for a good, long time. I could feel the anger rushing through me. How could he have thrown this all away? How could he do this to me--to us--after all these years? How could he go from kissing me and cuddling me in bed to not even wanting to hold my hand the very next day? What did I do to deserve this? Why is life so unfair? How did I draw the short stick of life--the one with numerous traumatic experiences, abusive relationships, a mother who abandoned me, and now a broken engagement and betrayed friendship? I grabbed the framed photographs of us smiling at one another and threw them on the fire. I watched the glass bubble. I watched our faces melt away. I quickly grabbed the painting, and tossed it on the flames. A friend asked, "How does it feel?" And I blurted out, "I'm going to cry." And I did. I cried and cried. I watched the words that used to mean so much to me fall away into nothing. I cried so hard that I couldn't talk. I stared into the light for a really, really long time before I picked up that stuffed bear. I thought about how happy I was when he gave it to me. I remembered our laughter as he won it from the claw machine. I remembered sleeping with it every night, especially on those nights when he wasn't there with me. I remembered moving it to every new dorm room, every new apartment or house... It was the reminder of how our friendship and relationship and partnership began. I thought about keeping it. And when that thought crossed my mind, I tossed it. I watched it disappear as I cried even more, surrounded be friends on both sides of me, supporting me as I watched the most symbolic item of the last eight years of my life fade away. That was not the response I expected. I thought I would feel empowered or that it would feel good to get rid of all of these reminders. But instead, I felt pain. I felt empty. I talked to my friend, Jesse, about it, and he told me this: "Yes, it can be easier to let go of some things when you pack it away in a box. You don't think about it, but there is a comfort in knowing that they are still there. That you can always go back and look at it. But by completely getting rid of these few things, you're going to cleanse your space. There is something...spiritual...about it. And while it may not feel like it right away, soon it will feel almost like you're free from it all. Nothing is holding you back and you're letting go." I'm thinking about that a lot today. Emerging from the flames, Farrah ♥ Day Fourteen: Create something. Start a new project.I love painting. If you know me, you know that any time someone asks, "If you could have any skill in the world, what would it be?" I always answer that I wish I could paint (sometimes I answer with the skill to be fluent in numerous languages, but I digress...) I have been wanting to do Painting with a Twist for a long time now (years, actually), but never had the opportunity. Or, a more honest answer is that I never made it a priority and no one was really interested in going with me. So when I asked my coworker friends (Abby, Erin, and Marisa from front to back in the photo) if they would be interested, I was excited when they loved the idea and signed up with me immediately. I didn't realize just how badly I needed that creative space. All of my art supplies are still in NYC, so I haven't had the opportunity to really create any kind of art since I moved to Pittsburgh in October. Sitting down with a paint brush and just going with the flow felt almost...freeing? I was in a judgement-free zone, with an instructor that would give me helpful feedback and next steps, singing to music and acting silly with my friends. I clearly remember the feeling of picking up the paint brush and starting the blue/green background of my painting. Mixing the paint, swirling it on the canvas, tapping to create texture...it felt good. I remember looking over at Erin and saying, "I had no idea just how badly I needed this." For two hours I focused on my creative process and enjoying that time with my friends. My ex and my crazy life situation (it has been a super rough two weeks, y'all) all kind of melted away and I was fully in the present. I was being mindful for the first time in a long time. Without knowing it, I focused on the feel of the brush in my hand, the sound of the music and the laughter of my ladies, the brightness of the colors in front of me... I was fully in the moment; I was breathing; I was enjoying myself; I was fully me. The last few weeks, I have not been present in my life. I have had a lot of crisis on top of trying to heal from this breakup and the loss of a friend. I know that my mind has been other places, including when I was in Iceland, and it has been very difficult for me to bring it back to the present. I am a dissociater, and usually I am pretty good at being aware of when my brain is pulling me into a dissociative state. However, recently, I haven't even noticed slipping into these states until a friend or coworker snaps me back to reality.
Creating this Happy Sloth painting was grounding for me. And I needed it more than I realized. I felt peace for the first time in a long time. Sometimes, going back to those old passions--the ones that you gave up for someone else or because you were too busy or because you thought you weren't good enough--is the thing that can remind you of your roots. It can remind you of who you are. Apparently, for me, I'm a smiling sloth with a flower crown. And I'm not mad about it. With hands and heart covered in paint, Farrah ♥ Day Thirteen: Travel somewhere new: Part III'm back!
Iceland is beautiful, even in the winter. It was freezing, Reykjavik's sidewalks were sheets of ice, but Ben and I had a blast anyway. We met a glacier. Walked on a black sand beach covered in snow (such a weird phenomenon. My brain and body were so confused). We visited waterfalls, including one that was creating snow. We walked around the city and went to a flea market, met some locals and talked to them, ate some food (yes, we had shark and whale and puffin). It was a good weekend, and I really enjoyed my time out of the country and with my friend. But it was still...weird. I was hoping to have a different reaction than the one that I had. Like I said in my previous post, this is the first time I've traveled internationally without my ex and since the breakup. Travel was "our thing." A passion we shared. I loved bouncing off ideas of where to go next and seeing how excited he would get when he was packing for a trip. I loved watching him barter for taxis and laugh with the locals in shops and bars. I loved falling asleep next to him on crowded overnight buses and experiencing the wonders of the world with him early in the morning. I didn't realize until I landed in Iceland that this was the country we had planned on going to next. We wanted to go see the northern lights, drive around the coast, go hiking...he was so excited about going somewhere colder (we tended to go to warm climate countries). He would watch the Greenland and Iceland episodes of Departures repeatedly. All of that came flooding back when I realized I was taking our trip...without him. It was also the first time since he told me he had starting dating my friend that I actually thought the words, "I miss him." It was like the shock of the entire situation had finally worn off. That it was real and now just an everyday ...thing? Nothing is going back to how it was. And I guess now that the shock wore off, my mind started yelling, "I MISS HIM." That's a really shitty feeling to have in general. It's even shittier when you're in a foreign country with one of your dearest friends on their first international trip. Don't get me wrong--I loved being in Iceland with Ben. We had a ton of fun and I really enjoyed watching his reactions to seeing so many amazing things. We laughed and explored and just enjoyed our time together somewhere new. But I still missed...him...and I carry guilt for feeling that way when I was traveling with someone new. I know Ben understands, but I feel like I was being so unfair that I couldn't always fully be in the present with him. I would find myself turning to talk to my ex, to ask him what he thought about the landscape we were watching go by on the bus. I didn't think about getting a map right away, because he would always get up early and ask reception for one. I thought about what artwork to take back to add to our collection and gallery wall. There were so many reminders of him--of our life together, and it would play on repeat in my brain. It still is at times. I had to start changing my usual travel routine and travel role. I was no longer part of the well-oiled travel machine that he and I were. I was alone. Ben helped and planned a lot (and I was super impressed by that, btw). But it was different and new and with just 3 days, I almost didn't have time to relearn and readjust. So maybe I didn't get the experience I was hoping for. While I enjoyed my time, I didn't come back feeling new and refreshed and alive. I came back feeling a little weighed down. But maybe I needed that? Maybe I needed an experience to shake off the initial shock of the situation. Maybe I needed to fully realize just how much I miss my ex-partner and that I'm still holding on to...something, even if I'm still unsure of what that something is. Hopefully I can figure that out and continue moving forward soon. Skál, Farrah ♥ Erin's Insight: Avoiding the Honesty of It AllIn the midst of one of our daily text message exchanges, Farrah asked me to write about breakups and healing as a guest writer for her 30-Day Challenge. I was honored and excited and almost immediately jumped into writing a post that was, eh...probably about 50,000 words too long, about healing from trauma. Then I wrote another entire post that was about another 50,000 words too long about my own heartbreak and healing experiences. I didn't realize that I had so much to say! Both were relevant but didn't seem cohesive enough for her blog. The very experience of sitting down and writing about the things that have broken me apart and caused the most suffering in my life was exhausting. Even attempts to summarize what I know about trauma and healing from an academic or clinical perspective was exhausting! The computer screen quickly filled up with the thoughts and emotions I thought I had fully addressed. Really, I had only scratched the surface. Later on, the notes pages on my iPhone filled up just as fast as I struggled to get the words out of my brain so it would STFU ALREADY SO I CAN GO TO SLEEP I HAVE A 9AM APPOINTMENT, DAMMIT!! It was a struggle for me to discern exactly what I wanted to say. Did I want to offer a "safe" route and tout advice as a mental health professional? Or my experience healing as a trauma survivor? Or as someone who has caused heartbreak? As someone who has experienced heartbreak? Which perspective would be the most valuable to readers?? The reason I am taking you through my inner dialogue is because it is tantamount to what I ultimately (just now) decided what this post is about--honesty in healing. I had to experience these processes to figure out just what I wanted to say and to come to terms with the how and why. Ultimately, healing is really just about honesty—being honest with yourself and exploring not only what you want but what you need. Honesty about what you are accountable for, and what you can realistically do about it. Honesty about what you are avoiding, and why. Farrah and I are alike in the methods in which we tend to cope with our own emotional pain--we are master avoiders! As many people are. I avoided a decision about how to address this topic publicly because it is a painful one and it brought up a lot of things that I would totally love to never, ever think about again. As a therapist who works primarily with survivors of sexual assault and/or abuse, I am very comfortable sitting with other people's intense emotions and helping them be vulnerable enough to manage the good, bad, and the ugly. However, sitting with my own emotions and vulnerability is a whole 'nother story. On a very basic neurobiological level, it's human nature to avoid pain--emotional or physical--to survive; to respond to our internal alarm system. We do this without planning. A negative emotional response elicits a physical response similar to anxiety—the limbic part of your brain kicks into overdrive and your heart rate increases, your cheeks flush, you sweat, your gut feels weird...you know the feeling. It’s gross AF. In general, behaviors that avoid or command control of physical pain (see: tattoos, piercings, self-harm, adrenaline-seeking) is fairly straight-forward. However, avoiding emotional pain is something we often do without full awareness. We inherently avoid negative feelings on a spectrum ranging from the extreme (completely dissociating, gaps in time/memory) to fairly commonplace (binge-watching TV shows, mindlessly eating, losing track of time while playing Candy Crush). We do this because it works, until it doesn’t anymore. It’s not sustainable and sooner rather than later we need something else to fill that void (on an extreme level, this is how addiction works). Avoidance Avenue is where most of us live on a daily basis. While we may reside there, Avoidance Avenue isn’t a place to heal. (BRB, writing it down and avoiding on the list of “things I say to my clients that induces eye-rolling”). This is a somewhat adaptive way of functioning and a way to stay just where we are in this moment. The very definition of healing is "the process of becoming healthy again". *cue jubilant screaming* The PROCESS. Healing is a journey, not an endpoint. It's an active process that takes a lot of effort. It's easier to stay stagnant than to actually heal. Trust me, we all want a quick fix. My own therapy sessions often revolve around struggling to come to terms with my own avoidance while helping others heal. At times, I feel like a huge hypocrite. My therapist and I recently had a conversation about this and I'd like to share her (grossly) paraphrased perspective: "(Healing) is not only a process, but a lifelong process. You find different healers, different people, different methods along the way that match where you are at that point in your life and what you're dealing with. There will always be something to address, another level of self-awareness to achieve. And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that." For me, hearing someone I trust and respect--both personally and professionally--echo the words I already know is reassuring. Having someone who knows me--and I can say anything to about how talking about rape all day every day is affecting me--and knowing that her office is a safe space for me does wonders for my own healing. Being honest with yourself is the bravest, most terrifying, and probably most helpful thing that you can do. It takes a lot of self-compassion and support at times. You may not be there right now or even know how to get there. And that is perfectly okay. Being honest with that alone, or wherever you are in the process right now is the perfect point. I am of course biased as both a therapist and a client but I always encourage people to try therapy. I don't care if you don't think you need it, or if you can handle it on your own. Just go talk to someone a few times. And be picky! Finding the right therapist who can help you explore your own avoidance (don't even roll your eyes, we ALL avoid at least once in awhile) and find your honest voice can be revolutionary. I got this heartbeat tattoo on the back of my neck several years ago as a personal reminder about healing. When you get an EKG, the QRS complex represents a regular heartbeat that dips slightly (Q), spikes up high (R), and then drops way below baseline (S). And repeats over…and over…and over...and over…and over…and over… It’s a reminder to me that without the ups and downs in life, you're dead. Quite literally. Healing works like this, too. There's no quick fix. There are going to be days where you feel like you’re dying, like you can’t control anything, like you’re worthless, like it would be easier to give up. But feelings are fleeting. The ups and downs will come, because healing is not linear. Explore what reminds you to find honesty and self-compassion and honor the changes that come. The process of writing this was a wonderful reminder for me! I am thankful Farrah trusted me to write something for her blog (hopefully she's not regretting it...) There’s a raw honesty to Farrah’s perspective on her breakup that I find absolutely beautiful. This 30-day challenge is a brilliant way to give herself a tangible way to see her healing in process. She is unabashedly herself, working on the excruciating journey that is honesty to self. She struggles with vulnerability, yet she pushes herself to grow by stepping outside of her comfort zone. I admire her and am grateful to be her fellow ENFP, social worker, and friend. I am fortunate to be on this path with her, and even more fortunate to have her on mine. Farrah, I hope I help you heal as you help me, sister brain <3 --Erin |
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