I am in the goo stage.
I've told people I am great. I've told people that I am happier than I have ever been. I have been told to concentrate on the good. I have been told to be thankful for what I have and the strength I have gotten from what I have been through and experienced.
I am thankful. For my husband. For my beautiful and crazy children.
And I am utterly sad.
I am not hopeless. I am not miserable.
But I am full of grief.
Grief for my parents. Grief for who they never were. Grief for my children not having the grandparents that I wanted them to have. Grief for what I feel like my parents took from me. Grief for the little girl that had to grow up too soon and had too many expectations thrust upon her. Grief for myself feeling never good enough for anyone. Grief for the friends that I feel abandoned by. Grief for my childhood home. Grief for my family not really being as close to me as I thought they were. Grief for the fact that neither of my parents loved themselves enough to want anything better for themselves or for each other. Grief for their unhappiness. Grief for the hurt I may have caused others. Grief for the secrets. Grief for the abuse. Grief for the life I could have had sooner if I wouldn't have been so completely absorbed in their toxicity. Grief for the fact that sometimes I don't miss them and that makes me feel guilty as hell. Grief for everyone else that I have dearly loved and lost. Grief for jobs. Grief for normalcy. Grief. Grief. Grief.
Some of it is legitimate. Some of it is what my brain has made me think of my own worth over time.
It is true the more you say a word, the weirder it sounds. Grief makes people so very uncomfortable. Our culture handles it TERRIBLY.
"Remember the good times"
"They're in a better place"
"Time heals all"
"Everything happens for a reason"
"At least ________"
"Try to look at the positives"
It is messy. It is painful. It is sorrow.
I can't even deal with my grief sometimes because of how much gaslighting I experienced growing up. Maybe I shouldn't feel this way. Maybe I am thinking of it wrong. Maybe it wasn't that bad. Maybe I really wasn't ever good enough for anyone.
The common theme of my life and the theme that has made itself all the more apparent the more trauma therapy I go through. I was never good enough. And then my brain applies that to all things. I guess I am not good enough to be invited somewhere. I am not a good enough mother. I am not a good enough wife. I am not a good enough friend. I am not a good enough person.
In the depths of sadness (that I don't let myself wallow in for too long) I do not feel good enough for anyone or anything.
Right now, I am in EMDR intensives and group therapy for differentiation. And tonight, someone said in group that they just want to be 80 years old and happy with themselves and feel proud of themselves before they die.
And that is when I lost it.
Both of my parents died at 51. Two and a half years apart. Neither one of them was slightly happy with themselves.
"My mom died unexpectedly and I really think it was because of how much stress my abusive father caused her. I got to be her emotional punching bag in the last few years because if she talked back to my dad they way she projected everything on me, he would hurt her or threaten to hurt himself. Then my dad decides he can't be alone and abandons his family for a girlfriend. I don't talk to him for 2 years and find out that he died. Alone. And no one found him for 3 weeks. And I don't have time for any of their crap to take up any more of my life and keep me from who I am supposed to be. I don't have time for it and it hurts so much. I've been through too much to do this to myself anymore."
I've been crying on and off since my group ended this evening. I am lonely. I am sad. I am broken. I am goo. I overcommit with the best intention. I am really good at being high functioning nearly every day and pretending everything is okay. I get upset with myself for not doing enough and not being enough pretty much constantly.
But maybe...it's time to let myself be goo. I spend far too much time on trying to be perfect and not enough time letting myself feel things so that I can rebuild and heal.
I share this because *I* need to. I don't care if nobody else cares about what I am going through. If you can't handle my mess, then my mess isn't for you, and that is okay! I need to look back eventually to say "Oh man, that gooey place was awful to sit in...but oh look at what you built with it. Remember where you were? Remember how lost you felt? Remember how lonely it could be? How good does it feel to not be goo, but to be strong and beautiful now and to believe in yourself on the other side? How good does it feel to be you?"
But right now, it positively sucks. And it hurts. Deeply. Being heartbroken and trying to put your best face forward, faking it until you feel it, does not work. It can't.
But goo. Goo is workable. Goo is hopeful. Even though it feels positively disgusting and uncomfortable. It won't all be for nothing. It can't be.
My children will know better than I did. Momma is healing herself for herself and becoming who she was supposed to be and that creates something so much better for them.
Generational curses be damned.
I think I am ready to let myself cocoon and try not be so much for everyone else and be goo for me and rebuild something better that lasts forever.
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