Cultivate your space with the things you need to see and hear and all the things that make your soul come alive. You can absolutely find your way back to the light but sometimes we have to put the light in front of us.
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stop. pick up the journal. speak to yourself gently. sit down. have a cup of tea. the world isn't ending even if it feels like it constantly is. what made you upset? how are you feeling? did you hydrate yourself enough today? ate a piece of fruit and watch the sky, soak in some warmth? pick up a random book you want to read and indulge yourself for a moment. better yet, flip it to a random page and read the passage. splash some water on your face, move your legs a little, shake your wrist. i know all you can think of is it's hard, it's hard, it's hard and i will commiserate with you and say that it is. so have some gentleness instead. we all need it. give yourself a taste of it.
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Trauma isn't just the sadness that comes from being beaten, or neglected, or insulted. That's just one layer of it. Trauma also is mourning the childhood you could have had. The childhood other kids around you had. The fact that you could have had a mom who hugged and kissed you when you skinned your knee. Or a dad who stayed and brought you a bouquet of flowers at your graduation. Trauma is mourning the fact that, as an adult, you have to parent yourself. You have to stand in your kitchen, starving, near tears, next to a burnt chicken, and you can't call your mom to tell her about it, to listen to her tell you that it's okay, to ask if you can come over for some of her cooking. Instead, you have to pull up your bootstraps and solve the painful puzzle of your life by yourself. What other choice do you have? Nobody else is going to solve it for you.
Stephanie Foo (What My Bones Know)
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Today I am reminding myself that one of the biggest ways I live in defiance of my abusive parent is to love myself annoyingly and relentlessly.
The hateful words that run in my mind are his, not mine. The lifelong act of relentless self hatred and metaphorical self flagellation by denying all joy and happiness is his thing, not mine.
I’m not perfect but I’m sure as fuck lovable and worthy of that love. Worthy of love from others and myself.
Maybe you needed to hear this today too?
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