‘I Promise I’m Okay’.

‘I’m okay, I promise I am okay’. I’m not sure how many times I’ve uttered those words in the last few weeks. On a surface level, it appears to be true but I acknowledge that I’m most likely masking a deeper pain within that I’ve just put to the side for now. To be fair, I genuinely do feel okay, if not a little numb. I think I’ve cried once over the last few weeks and then never again. Potentially the circumstances for that crying episode were much needed in which I let out all my tears at once. Unfortunately for me, this happened right when I found myself sitting at a nail appointment appearing to be stoic and silent until the nail tech asked me one question. Thee question was ‘how are you?’. In that moment, as I attempted an answer it felt like my whole heart cracked and I couldn’t find words.  My response was to sob inconsolably for an hour straight. Looking back at that moment my body, my heart and my soul just needed an outlet for my grief and in that moment my tears were the only likely outcome.

Since then I’ve come to understand that everyone processes emotions differently. I’ve also realised that trauma does incredibly strange things to the brain. In many circumstances our bodies just go into survival mode in order to not shut down entirely. For me, I feel like the hurt and the heartache of everything I have gone through, is locked up somewhere which is buried deep in my psyche. I have not yet come to terms with what I have lost. I am yet to grieve any of this and the truth is that I may never do so. Not because I don’t want to or I don’t care, but mainly because somewhere deep inside I know that if I open myself and my heart up to this properly right now, the wounds may never heal and I may never be the same again.

As a result of this I acknowledge that my perpetual state of ‘okayness’ ultimately derives from my brain actively attempting to dissociate from the pain. I can recognise that this is a subconscious survival reflex mechanism where I have purposely disconnected and distanced myself from the pain of those memories; and from the potential of what could have been. For now, putting all those feelings in a locked box is the only way that I can continue on and right now, that is entirely acceptable.

The truth within all of this is that I genuinely want to move forward. I see beauty, joy, happiness and adventure in my future and I’m sick of being that person who has had to deal with what feels like never ending heartache. I don’t want to be looked at and pitied anymore. I don’t want this one thing to be my entire story. I don’t want to constantly be followed by a dark cloud everywhere I turn. I want so much more for myself and I know I will have this; eventually.

If someone were to ask what my strategy for approaching life is right now, I’d say it’s just showing up everyday and trying my best. The hardest part about trauma is that it doesn’t immediately get better. Right now, I can’t seem to find a win. I can’t claim something as a prize or life achievement to hold onto to point to growth and a better path forward. In theory I have nothing tangible to indicate that it will get better; but yet I believe it to be so in any case. I genuinely believe if I keep waking up everyday, getting out of bed and putting one foot in front of the other I will find what it is that is ultimately awaiting me in this life.

To quote myself in this moment:

‘I see the inklings of my future

within the pink hues of a distant sunset’