For the last five years I have been recovering. I have, albeit very slowly, been making changes to my life. But the slowest and most painful part of my transformation has been unseen. It has been the rebuilding of neural pathways. Breaking down patterns of self abuse for subjecting myself to some horrendous situations. The self-hate I have for the decisions I made was so deep-seated that it is taking a long, long time and a lot of energy to find my inner glory.
Sure, I can turn it on. Hold my shit together for others as a way of saving face. I can, most of the time, hide the pain that lies underneath even from those nearest and dearest to me. But the truth is that I am still hurting. The truth is that there is still a lot of healing required.
I have a long road ahead of me but I am, as always, optimistic. I am slowly building my toolkit of weapons against self-destruction and self-loathing.
My conscious mind knows how unhealthy it is. I am cognisant of the fact that some of my behaviours and a lot of my thoughts are unbalanced. But they are part of the process.
Experts suggest that for every year of emotional abuse it takes two to recover. I was married for twelve years. Not all of them were awful but I still have a lot of negativity to undo.
While I have taken many steps to improve my physical state and reduce emotional eating as a coping mechanism and my mind is a much happier place I still have demons to fight.
Awareness is the first step. Admitting that I hold onto old habits out of comfort is huge. I think it's been lying under the surface for a while but I have been blind to it. Perhaps I couldn't cope with it previously and I was subconsciously protecting myself. Perhaps it was self-sabotage. Perhaps it was naivety. Whatever the reason, I now need to start to address my mind (again).
It's been a process of continual improvement. From the days where I would convince myself to just get out of bed, just get in the shower, just get dressed, just walk to work, just get inside the office, just read my email, just make it to morning tea, just write a couple of pages of a document, just make it to lunch, just listen to the next song. All the way through the day. For weeks and months on end that was my life. Moment to moment.
One night I went walking. I had not destination in mind. I just walked. I ended up standing on a bridge (just near where I now work). I climbed onto the barrier. I slowly and deliberately swung my legs over. I sat on that bridge for a long time. It was the middle of winter in the middle of the night. I sat there and willed myself not to let go. Each second that passed, each breath I took, I sat and tried to convince myself to hold on. My mind was clear. Eerily calm. I made a conscious decision to live that night. I walked the twenty odd kilometres home and walked in my front gate as the sun was rising. I walked inside, had a shower and went to work. I never told anyone about it. I never let anyone know how low I was. I never indicated what a mess I was or the depth of my pain. I didn't want to be a burden.
I look back now and think of how much easier my recovery would have been if I had support. How much faster would I have bounced back if people around me were aware of how low I sank. How alone I was. How miserable my life felt.
But I pushed on. Day by painful day, I slowly found things I enjoyed. Dancing, yoga and running all helped me. But I became addicted to the endorphins running produced in my body. I ran three times a day. I went to the gym up to ten times a week. I punished my body. It was the only thing I could control. I didn't eat well. I survived on thickshakes and alcohol. I only ate when I was with my kids. I was a mess.
Not long after the night on the bridge I decided to leave my job. The change would spur me into action. I wouldn't be able to abuse exercise in a job that was more than three minutes from home. I would spend less time at home. I would spend less time alone. I would use the new job as a marker for change.
I had turned a corner. I had made a conscious decision to live. I started to forge the life I wanted for myself. I invested in my family. I helped out at working bees and dedicated my time to serving others. I babysat my sisters kids. I helped mum clean out two homes. I helped my sister move. I reconnected with friends. I started to share snippets of my story.
I joined online dating. And stopped very quickly. I was not ready.
I danced with girlfriends. I still drank too much but I was functional. I started to eat (somewhat) regular meals. Even when the kids were not home.
I forced myself to go to bed each night. Even if I didn't actually sleep, I at least spent some time each day lying down (prior to that I would often go a couple of days without turning down my doona). I spent time in the garden. I started writing. I wrote a lot. I let my heart pour out.
I went back to the psychologist I had seen very regularly when I first separated. I saw him every second week. Some sessions I cried. Some I talked very little. Others I went to with a strict agenda - seeking answers. Garry was amazing. He made me feel safe, unjudged and normal. He reminded me of all the research I knew all too well. He was gentle at times and others he was a right royal arsehole. But he helped. Little by little I began to question my thoughts. The process of self assessment was ingrained and I changed my mind. It was one of the hardest thing I have ever done but it was so rewarding.
I began to enjoy my children again. We'd play at the park and snuggle watching movies. We would giggle and play. They smiled more. I smiled more.
But I was still holding back. I was scared. I took myself to Thailand and did the most intense therapy I have ever done. I spent nine days solely focussed on me. I delved into my heart and soul. I was brutally honest with myself. I cried. I ran. I did yoga. I swam. And I cried. I cried and cried and cried. But I healed. I let a lot of things go in Thailand. It was singularly the best decision I have ever made. It cost me a fortune that I couldn't really afford but it was exactly what I needed.
I feel I am at a similar juncture at the moment. I am on the precipice of a massive mental breakthrough. Like with Thailand, I am giving myself permission to let go. I am allowing myself to be happy. I want to be happy. I know I am, at times, my own worst enemy but I am also my greatest strength.
As I sit on a jet plane to Sydney for work, I am filled with the same emotions I had just before I landed in Thailand. I am about to shine. Last time I felt like this was just before I met the man that exceeded all my hopes and dreams. I wonder what is in store for me this time.
Whatever it is, I know it is going to be great. I am ready to rewire my brain some more. I am ready for the pain and hard work that change requires. I am strong enough to face my fears. And I am excited about it. While I will filled with anxiety when I landed in Thailand. As I approach the runway in sunny Sydney I am thrilled. I am full of positive energy that will power me through this next metamorphosis.
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