All of us have reasons why our lives are difficult, why its elements are challenges. Many of us come from families that didn't recognize us or spend time with the value that we had to offer. We figured out the hard stuff on our own, perhaps with minimal to mean support from those we felt close. These conflicts, in their depths, are the gems in our existence. As awful as it is to experience the shatter of boundary impropriety, light shines from its rust.
No one wants terrible to happen to her. It's not something we love from first experience. It is something that is foisted upon us, ill intentions in neither our minds nor our big compassionate hearts. Boundary violation is not something deserved or for which reasons enough exist. The wrong is perpetual in its puss-filled scab smoothed with scar and color. In time, our cells change and we experience life as an older, different being. We move into a concept of lives past as separate. The journey with balance is filled with thoughts about our worth, why our lives exist in their states, why we or our lives aren't more or better. In my experience, my muscles felt sore with stale emotions. My memory delivered sensations from days passed, painful times when I didn't have support to experience myself with depth.
is both necessary
It tells us when we feel like something needs to change.
both ok and required
to feel anger
Expression is sometimes scary
Especially with environments that want to control you every move
You find ways to be
the person you believe you are.
Early lack of validation can naturally build neural pathways for anger and sadness. When I feel an extreme amount of stress, my thought pattern wants to jump to self-harm. The night before last, I felt a lot of pain inside, and I started to visualize my forearm open with one long cut, muscles exposed to the wild. I felt so tired of putting in effort. I looked up at the dark sky from the floor of an empty bedroom and whispered aloud all of the awful thoughts that sliced my mind. Tears slipped from my eyes, lightly pattered down my ears. A small lagoon developed in that tiny ear landscape. I let myself whisper and cry until I felt empty, purged. My mind, its years of therapy and meditation practice ready with paths, began a visualization, and my breaths shifted ...in, out... from my pelvic region. At some point, sleep and I interacted because I woke up with tear-gorged lids and a particular stillness.
I have this deep well of emotion inside of me. My vulnerability sometimes scares me. This is different for me to discuss because I grew up dismissive of my soft parts. At five, I began to study martial arts. I recall practices with my father. He put tape on the patio and we would need to stop and start at the same line. The belt test is one of my earlier memories. I can picture myself inside of my head, a focus on the path to the next step in my movements, being watched, the silence of others as they observed my body hold delicate implication. I bowed when I entered the study space. In time, it became a sacred experience. I developed respect for the tradition of the bow. Around the same time that I started martial arts studies, I experienced an older female take advantage of my sexual existence. I thought we were about to play a game like she said, and instead she put herself on top of me and moved herself until she stimulated my tiny body to orgasm with her part of her body. I didn't understand what happened as it happened. Later I felt weird and different and I didn't know why I felt that way. I tried to tell my father about the older female. Five-year-old me didn't possess the confidence, vocabulary, or knowledge with which to express mistreatment, and my father didn't search to recognize my anguish. My parents acted with minimal compassion or vulnerability. When I was 11, I felt violated after a man grabbed my breast and drove away on a motorized scooter. I went to my mom who proceeded to snort-laugh and stare at me, the words "What do you want me to do about it?" spat from her mouth. A few years passed, and then the martial arts instructor took advantage of my sexual existence, too. I told my dad over the phone because he lived away from me. There was a pause. I thought maybe he would express his concern for me, tell me it would be ok. Instead, he asked if I was sure it happened. It's little wonder that I didn't defend from rape when it happened in my 30s. My deep well of emotions that went unheard and void of validation in childhood extended to my adult life with few boundaries and extreme pain.
A lot of gifted people tend to receive mistreatment from others due, in large part, to the gifted person's tendency toward idealism. When you think the best of others, you don't start with a defense against them. Living with Intensity: Understanding the Sensitivity, Excitability, and the Emotional Development of Gifted Children, Adolescents, and Adults really helped me see my upbringing and life experiences with a comfortable perspective. As it turns out, an existential depression at a young age is common for gifted individuals. Many feel isolated and misunderstood, distant from others who do not appear to consider life with the same type of depth or vulnerability. Personally, I used to wonder if I experienced some form of autism because I felt so incredibly uncomfortable around people. Turns out, I experienced a lot of trauma as I grew up and didn't understand it as trauma. I ate food everyday, lived in a structure with running water. What "right" did I have to feel bad about my life? How come I couldn't just be the person I thought everyone thought I should be?
Well hello there.