I’ve dreamed of being an author since I was in the 4th grade. My closest friends have encouraged me, for as long as I can remember, to carve out time during the day to write. One of my bestest friends of all time gave me two journals, one pocket-sized, so that I can never have an excuse that I’ve lost a potential book idea. I carry the pocket-sized one with me at all times and I write down book ideas and inspirations that I get randomly throughout the day.
I have so many ideas for books. And they are all written in those journals. Perhaps one day I’ll actually write one of those books.
But for now, I have a monster book brewing in my head. It’s a memoir/guidebook of sorts. I’ve lived through my fair share of trauma, this latest catastrophe being the most destructive. Yet, I’m still smiling – well, most of the time. I have a lot of stories to share, a lot of lessons learned and even more that are yet to be learned. And you all seem to connect with what I write.
It makes me wonder what could happen at a much larger scale.
So, this blog that I am currently writing is dedicated to one of the potential chapters of my future book. Please tell me how you like it.
Chapter Something
Processing life after a catastrophic trauma is so much like riding a roller coaster. You feel clammy all the time, with moments where you want to cry to moments where the tears are from laughter. You’re so nauseated. All. Of. The. Time. You don’t dare eat because you just know you’ll throw up after coming down from that first big hill. And if you’ve ever ridden a roller coaster, you know all of those sensations, all of those feelings, are valid. They’re normal.
The same is true when processing great catastrophic life events.
When I was younger, a trauma occurred and I felt so isolated, so scared, so confused. I didn’t understand what I felt or why I was feeling it. And I was ever so ashamed. Even though it’s 20 years later, and I’m going through a significantly different situation, though of catastrophic proportions once again, it is just as confusing and scary, and also again, I feel shame. Though this time around, I’m not isolated. I have chosen to share my story. To live out loud. To talk about all of my feelings with anyone who will listen. I will not be silenced. And I will not be bullied or threatened into keeping my story to myself.
I am screaming my story to anyone who will listen.
And, damn, is that ever so helpful!
It’s helpful because it reminds me that I’m not alone. So many other people have experienced my same pain. They’ve told me that I could be writing the words that are engraved on their hearts.
The last thing you want, after experiencing sudden devastation, is to feel like nobody would understand what you’re going through, to think that you are living this chaos alone. Yet, so many people do. They suffer in silence. They don’t want to be a burden on others.
Guys, I have burdened so many of you! And because of that, I have been held up, physically and emotionally. You have been my lighthouses, shining your bright lights into the darkest places of my mind, never relenting until it penetrates my soul. And none of you have made me feel like a burden.
It’s human nature to want to help others! We desperately want to comfort other people – even strangers. Though we especially want to be there for those closest to us. And when I lay my troubles into their hands, it helps. I feel lighter. They empower me, help me feel embraced, loved, and supported. They help me acknowledge that while I currently have shit in between my toes from it hitting the fan and going everywhere so then I of course can’t help but step in it, it won’t always be there. Not only do they remind me that it won’t always be there, they actually get their hands dirty and help wipe it away.
The community you allow into your life wants to be there. They want to lift you up. They want to see you succeed and grow and flourish. They want to shower you with love and support.
So let them in. And burden your community with your troubles. You will find yourself in a much better place to cope with the turmoil in your heart and you’ll probably even find that certain relationships within your community strengthen. Friendships deepen to levels you didn’t really think would be possible in such a short amount of time.
So dare to live your story out loud. Find the strength to speak your truth. Start with one person, and then let the flood gates open. You’ll be so surprised by not only the sympathy, but also by the empathy. People will feel badly for you, feel angry with you, cry with you, get drunk with you, and laugh with you.
Others will connect with your soul. They’ll understand you before you even understand yourself. Because they’ve walked a thousand miles in your shoes already. They’ve worn them in for you, making your navigation through the storm perhaps just a wee tiny, little bit easier.
Not everyone will agree with you reaching out to anyone who will listen. And that is okay. This isn’t their path to travel, nor is it their wave to ride. As long as you find peace in sharing your story with others, keep right on narrating your life. Your community will make it known who wants to listen, who feels comfortable being your lighthouse. So follow their beacon and expose your heart. The more raw and exposed I have lived in these last 2 months, the less alone I have felt.
And I just can’t say it enough. You do not want to feel alone while weathering your storm. Many in your community will definitely be able to sympathize. And at least one person will be able to empathize. They will wrap their arms tightly around you, flooding your whole body with a warm embrace that is electrified with their unconditional love and support, and they’ll shower you with forehead kisses. Your community is waiting, at the ready, to do whatever it takes to convince you that you are not alone.
Find them and lay your sadness, your fears, your anger and your anguish into their awaiting hands. If you bend too far, and end up broken, hand them all of your broken pieces. And do so without shame or worry of being a burden. Because they are waiting there, judgement free, with duct tape to slowly help piece you back together.
Your community loves you. Unconditionally. Lean on them and let that love fill you until you feel strong enough to survive another moment.
And before you know it, you are no longer merely surviving. Thanks to them, suddenly one day you are thriving.
As I write this, the lyrics to the song, “Lean On Me,” popped into my head. Specifically, these:
Please swallow your pride
Lean On me
If I have things you need to borrow
For no one can fill those of your needs
That you won’t let show”
bill withers
That Mr. Withers sure knew what he was talking about! Be unashamed of your roller coaster. Swallow your pride and lean on your community because your feelings are valid and shouldn’t be felt in isolation.
Nobody should ride a roller coaster alone.
A Graceful Catastrophe 