Processing

I have read and re-read and re-read this. This is one of the biggest/hardest things in have ever done. *takes a massive breath and clicks post* Six. Six years of Motherhood. A time that has been hugely challenging and equally healing for me as a woman. It has shown me that love exists deeper than I had previously been aware. Immensely deep love for the child and also for the man that I have been able to watch love and grow along side me. If you know me or have been following me for a while you may know I’ve spoken a little more about my mental health lately than I usually do. I’m not totally sure why the shift now but it is important to me that I respect that part of me that wants to share a little more. The part of me that has lived through childhood trauma and survived it to speak my truth. Trauma, abuse. Any aspect of mental health is hard. Heck life is just hard. Even if you haven’t experienced anything traumatic. It’s hard. It’s hard for every body. Everyone’s pain is relative to the degree of their own lives. It’s not just hard for me, or you. It’s hard for everyone.

Motherhood for me, while being this beautiful experience, has also taken me back to relive my trauma over and over again. If you live with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder or know someone who does, you will likely know that reliving past memories is one of the hardest parts of healing, or recovering, or on many days just merely surviving. Living with past trauma is a constant battle and takes courage and will power every. single. day. Loving myself takes so much you guys. SO much. To outsiders I seem to have it all.

I have batted off comments my whole life about “how easy I have it” and “how lucky I am to be thin” because there is this whole misconception out there that pretty thin girls “have it all”.

It’s so ironic. While I genuinely believe woman who carry weight are extremely beautiful. Having weight on my own body repulses me. It is deeply connected to and reminds me of my past.

Food suppression and purging was the first means by which I started to take control back of my body.

No one really knows our deepest truths and just because we fit into some societal boxes that doesn’t mean A life is perfect.

People see me sharing things about “self love this” and “self love that” and some of them scoff and think it is in vain.

But the truth,

the truth is that I have really genuinely hated every part of myself,

my mind and my body SO MUCH as a teenager and young woman that it genuinely takes A LOT for me to love me.

To love me for who I am. Broken and flawed me. Me with my history. Me who doesn’t really have it all but who has actually has lived through so much self hatred and disgust that I will never have it all.

I will never ever have the innocence of my childhood. I will never be able to look at photos from my younger self and feel good. It’s soiled. I have been healing my whole life but to “fully heal” - I believe that is a myth. I carry scars that aren’t just on me, they are me. I grew into them, and I didn’t know any different.

The fact that they might magically heal and just not be there is almost a joke. My scars are me, they run through my entire body, pain has carved pathways into all the crevices of me.

I have meditated for hours with this visualization of stitching my body back together with golden thread. Thats how broken I have felt. I reached for anything I could grasp at to keep me afloat. and that’s why I say healing is a myth. The scars aren’t something to be ashamed of or something that could magically disappear. The scars are proof of survival. They are proof that I am a fucking warrior.

Because I AM.

I have learned over time to slowly love myself again. I have taught myself ways to cope and other people have taught me ways to cope. I have taught me how to love me and other people have taught me how to love me. Some days I don’t cope very well and I have learnt to respect that part of me that is still processing. I have learnt to allow it to exist and be what it needs to be. Trying to push something down or make it go away just means it manifests inside of you. That causes so much inner turmoil and disease so I have learnt different ways to get me through the hard times. This is my life and I lived this reality day in and day out for my entire life. I take antidepressants every day. I was ashamed about them for years and resisted them for so long but when you are faced with life or death you don’t mess around.

By some miracle of God I was blessed with a husband and two amazing children that have walked many miles alongside me in my journey of recovery. I feel so lucky and full of gratitude on so many levels in my life. I genuinely do. But this part of me that hurts, it also exists. Life is a process. And processing pain is apart of the human condition. Every day it arises in different ways. That is the nature of pain.

Today marks 6 years of being a Mom, 6 years of holding life I made, 6 years of having the courage to keep caring for other humans that aren’t me. And I’m still learning how to do that part.

Today marks 6 years of beautiful, joyful and extremely wild life as a mother. It marks 6 years of building up courage to get to this moment and the moments that may, or may not, come in the future. Today marks 6 years of life with Fox. My Fox. My Baby Boy. The boy that taught me what it felt like to hold two hearts in my body. Before you, I didn’t know what it was like to be admired and needed and wanted so deeply as if life depended on it. Because it did.

I didn’t know how much you would need from me. That you would finally change the way I viewed my body, as an absolute gift, not a tainted vessel or personal demise. I didn’t know how much I would need from you either. You came into my life and my whole existence diminished in relation to how big you were in my world. I lived blissfully in your smells and smiles and you taught me that I was far from the most important person in this world. I was just a dot. And so were you. But you were my dot and our love reached so far beyond that dottiness.

Happy birthday my sweet, sweet Fox. The boy who’s name I carried with me my entire life. I always knew that you would bring me comfort and strength and help me to see the little joys in life. Joys that I know I experienced as a child but that my memory has never allowed me to remember. Happy birthday my sweet Fox. You have the gentle and deeply caring demeanour of your father. A heart made of pure gold.

Never stop being the amazing, curious and sweet boy that you are. May we continue on this journey together and never stop marvelling at all of the beautiful things this world has to offer.

I Love You allways.

All. Of. The. Ways.

xx 💛