These are the images I’ve posted recently on Instagram
We’re at the end of 2020. And you did it. I did it. We did it. I didn’t think I’d make it through the year, yet here I am. Here you are. It’s been one hell of a ride these past months. Although I haven’t replied to the comments on my last posts, I’ve read them all. And I’m really touched. It surprises me that you’re here and care despite how MIA I’ve been.
Congrats for making it through 2020! Let’s celebrate…
Here’s to a year….
Hopefully next year I’ll be more present amongst you…
Lotsa love and sunshine
E (not Eliza, I just dunno how to change my blog name).
I just watched an IGTV – 40 minute video on instagram, and I’ve so so much to say…. that I’m going to try and put some of it into words. It’s definitely worth watching….
I’m not actually sure where to start, because almost every 5 minutes of it brought up something to write about, which would mean I should be writing 8 different blog posts… anyways. This is really for myself. To out it down.
Her first point was that choosing to have children is an act of courage. About 3 years ago I recall discussing this with my rabbi, and telling him I didn’t want to have children. It’s the first time I’ve heard anyone validate that. I don’t want to bring children into the world. The thought of bringing a child into the world is absolutely terrifying. I’m not saying I never will. I’m still a kid. I’m 26. I don’t know what will happen if I date, or ever decide to marry. Will I want to have children? I don’t know. I really appreciated the validation, the understanding. I don’t want to bring children into the world.
Okay so I’m going to miss out a whole lot of points.
Choosing to love takes courage.
It does. In real life I find it incredibly difficult to reach out to people. Well, online too. I don’t reach out in the way of making myself vulnerable. I share, definitely. I email or DM people, definitely. I don’t message anyone and tell them I’m struggling. I might write a post or story, which says that I am. But because it’s going public, it’s sharing, and isn’t requiring the same vulnerability.
There is someone absolutely gorgeous who lives not far from me. This person has given me the opportunity to be in touch with her a lot. A really lot! I’ve told her how much I appreciate her messages. It’s too scary to build that relationship. There’s also a big part that whenever I have reached out she hasn’t actually followed through with her offer. There’s my part to play. Building such relationships are scary. Terrifying. More than terrifying. I’m not saying I don’t have that honesty with anyone, for I do. My friend M who lives in Israel (I miss her… lockdown means that I haven’t seen her in a year. Haven’t been to israel in a year. I guess she hasn’t had to make that day trip from the north to central – 4 hours each way – in a year).
Choosing to connect takes courage. In any way. Whether through parenting, or teaching, or building any relationships.
I really appreciated those words – not a quote! I teach. My students are the most incredible humans on earth. Most of the students I’ve taught are learning disabled, special needs, or somewhere thereabouts. Teaching is draining. It requires 100% of my focus (which I don’t always have available, which of course brings guilt for they are not getting my all. I do know that my not all often gives more than someone else’s all. And I do give more to my students than most).
Choosing to build relationships is scary. It’s only during the last year that I’ve built a relationship with one of my sisters. A truly honest, vulnerable, relationship with. No, she doesn’t know most of what’s been going on. I’m grateful I’ve spared her the fear she’d have been living with.
Safety. I don’t consider myself to have PTSD, because I haven’t been through trauma. Although I can’t say nothing has been traumatic in my life. The more you talk about something, the more okay it is to talk about. Going off on a tangent here.
Today I was talking to a couple of people on a group call. We were sharing, they did first, what we were ashamed of. The first thing that came to my mind was that when I was 14 I didn’t have good hygiene, which meant I didn’t have friends, and no friends meant no learning what normal hygiene is. That’s something I’ve been ashamed of my entire life. Well, not my entire life. When I was 16 I went to seminary – Jewish girls college – and for the first time I learnt what people do. That hey, you’re meant to shower regularly etc. (My family didn’t practice good hygiene…). I’ve never spoken about it before because it was one of my most shameful secrets. I wrote about this on a private blogpost recently. And today I shared it. And as I was saying it i found it funny. Because. There’s nothing for me to be ashamed of. I wasn’t shown what to do. I didn’t know better. I was the cause of a lack of friends through no fault of my own. I’m going to have to go back to see what I was trying to say, but the point I’m saying here is that the more you talk about something, the more okay it becomes, the more you – I – accept and make sense of it.
Oh. So trauma. There are some things in my life that really impacted me. One of them being my special needs sister whom I was brought up to belief was normal. Who when I was 9 would say she wanted to end her life and it was our fault. I knew I was guilty for living. I knew she was going to due and it was my fault. My sister is a topic that recently is the first time I’m really okay talking about it. I’ve joked about it with my friends. Things like I’ve been sent to hell enough times that hell doesn’t scare me (by my sister and mother).
I’ve come to understand some of my life. Even as I say I haven’t been through trauma, I’ve come to understand that some things in my life traumatised me. And that’s the first time I’m saying that. Yes, writing IS saying. Interestingly enough, on the phone today, one of the people said that writing isn’t as real. I thought, hey, for me writing is real. Is more real.
Trauma brings a lack of safety. Teaches you the world isn’t safe. Why has no one ever put it so clearly into words before? She put it into words in a way that really spoke to me. For I’ve never heard it framed that way. One of the things I’ve said about my world is that there is no safety. I appreciated hearing the why. Why there’s no safety. The world’s definitely not as unsafe as it used to be. I don’t feel unsafe all the time. I don’t feel safe. Ever.
Another thing she put really well was how using something brings along its own set of problems. Yah. Don’t I know that. Her example was a kid choosing to avoid the problem of going to school will create the problems that staying home brings.
Destroying my life, which avoids all the causes for self destruction (to anyone who knows what I’ve been doing, I want to apologise. I don’t think it’s okay for me to have ever written on here what I’ve been doing. For my GP to know is okay – and of course the tight thing. For the psych I met to know, is of course the right thing. They have to know the risks. Which of course there is the risk. Which is why I’ve been living with it. For anyone here to know isn’t okay. I never should have shared. That’s the reason I’ve passworded the posts I’m aware spoke about it. I’m sorry.
Destroying my life takes away the pain of dealing with the world. It gives me an illusion of safety. It gives and control. It brings along self destruction. It brings along the battle of life vs death which is exhausting, and so hard to fight.
Self harm has helped. Side track again. I’m calling it self harm. The past few months I’ve finally named self harm, as exactly that. Self harm. It’s hard for me to say it. Why? Because then I’m saying that’s what it is. Self harm helped. It helps. It helps one problem. It causes others. Such as wrecking clothes I don’t want to wreck.
So yeah. This live brought up a lot. Hang on, I want to check how long I’ve been writing for. Okay. It’s been nearly 40 minutes.
I’m grateful for this space to process my thoughts. I’m grateful for writing, which helps me process my thoughts.
Oh. I wanted to share something positive I posted on instagram. I know I’ve said the same thing before, but, or AND, I’m saying the same thing again now.
If you’ve read this far there’s 2 points I want to say.
The most important point is – thank you for listening. Thank you for being here. Thank you for taking the time to read.
And I forgot the second.
Second point – I’m thinking of you all even as I’m not reading your posts. You all mean so much to me. Your support and encouragement, and belief, and hope, from some relative strangers, means a really lot to me. I’ve read every comment you’ve left even if I haven’t responded. I’m not around much as I haven’t had the headspace (on Instagram I’m reading the stories, not keeping up with posts directly, unless they show up in stories – on the days I check the stories that is). I do think of you all a lot. And thank you for being here.
I’ve kinda been living in my head these past months. I’ve come up for air a few times. Looked at either the first posts in my reader, or a few of those in my notifications or emails. I’m not sure who decides what shows where. I haven’t been around recently. Not on here. (Nor on instagram, email, or real life friends either).
Anyways. I just wanted to say that I’m thinking of you all. I’m not naming people but I do mean you. I’m grateful you’ve been a part of my journey. I’m grateful that you are a part of my journey. And, I’m thinking of you. I know I’m not around much, and that’s nothing to do with you, and everything to do with me. It’s taking my everything to just do what I am.
I’d love to hear how you’re doing. If you’re happy to share that is.
Lotsa sunshine, sparkles, hugs, and peace
What acts of kindness have you seen, heard, read, or done recently?