So…I burst into tears in front of a group of women I’d never met before (this happened last week). I tell one lie – I knew one of them (not the other 7). It seems like I have a load more healing to do…
Here’s what happened: I bumped into The One I Know at a Zumba class one Monday morning about 4 weeks ago – I hadn’t seen her for about 6 years and it was a pleasant surprise to see her unexpectedly like that (fortutiously or serendipitously I don’t know yet). I knew her from a similar event I used to run back in 2019. Anyway, she invited me to an informal women in business type meet up and I thought that’s exactly what I need – get out of the house, meet some new people and perhaps get inspired about my life which feels like its flat-lined since January ’24….(I just can’t seem to gather myself up and get ‘going’ if that makes sense). I think allowing myself to be bullied into stopping what I was doing by The Narc in 2022 kind of topped me over the edge. I was hoovered up completely into The Narcs life following that fateful incident, but I don’t think I ever, really, truly got over being bullied like that so voraciously into stopping my business and being bashed and shrunk down into what The Narc wanted me to be. My light slowly dimmed into a barely-there glow. Less than a year into that relationship, I was a shadow of the woman I used to be.
Back to the women’s meet up.
I knew there would be some cheesy introductions bit at the start like you’re on some sort of game show (“hi my names blah and I do blah for a living). I was rehearsing in the car driving there what I thought I wanted to say as I’m not ‘doing’ anything right now (apart from fighting an ugly legal battle and trying to figure myself out in between). But nothing could have prepared me for what actually happened…
When it was my turn I acknowledged The One I Know and proceeded to explain how I’m not ‘doing’ anything at the moment (but awkawardly could feel some emotion stirring within me as I was telling myself “please don’t cry, please don’t cry”) when I got onto the subject of this-what-I-used-to-do-until-The-Narc-bullied-me-into-deleting-it-all. I just couldn’t hold back the emotion as my lips quivered and the tears welled up in my eyes and streamed down my face (you know that lip-quivering moment I’m sure, the point of no return). And part of me couldn’t believe that here I am, with a group of women I don’t know, bearing my soul to all and sundry as to how broken and fragile I really feel. Of course my saving grace was being in the company of women as there was coo-ing and compassion on the surface and whose-got-a-tissue and “there’s no need to be sorry” when I apologised for the tearful interlude (why do we always apologise for crying – it is because the other person feels awkward and it’s all our fault?) But perhaps under the surface of compassion and understanding some of them might have thought I was the token bat-shit crazy fruit-loop in the group to be pitied. I couldn’t stop the tears as I explained how I’m finding it really difficult to gather myself up again (as I had previously been pushed out of a successful career and 7 years prior to that, had the rug pulled out from under me). And how losing it all again was too much to bear. But I think losing something so unceremoniously as being bullied out of what you do by your then boyfriend, or should I say, boyfiend, has left indelible marks on my soul that still feel painful. It’s a pain body of grief that is still living within me, the death of something that was snatched away from me suddenly without any letting go process. Losing something overnight is like a metaphorical death and I’ve had that in my life before. It’s not easy starting your life again, again (does that make sense, I’m trying to start again, again like for the 4th time or something insane like that). The tears dried up when I managed to crack smile but in that moment, I knew that there are unhealed wounds that are so raw and so emotionally charged, that won’t be healed until I ‘do’ something meaningful again that makes me feel like me, that makes me feel like I’m living my truth. That’s it, isn’t it? If you’re not living your truth it feels painful. And it’s often followed by a sense of shame especially being around others who are living their truth. Basically, the wound will not heal until I do. But I feel so flat, the road seems long and the mountain feels too huge that I flounder with thought of getting going again, starting from scratch. Therein lies the paradox – I want to do something meaningful and I want to live my truth but I feel so flat and uninspired that I can’t muster the creative spark and I get lost in over-thinking (which creates more problems). And there’s also a deep sense of shame that goes with not living my truth. There’s a heaviness and an anxiety around it all. A friend of mine said just let it all go, let go of the tension and anxiety and pressure and he’s right. I just need to ‘be’. Life is like that: as soon as you let go and get out of your own way, life tends to come to you.
I’ll let you know next time how I’m getting on with that…
If baring my soul to you (and the world) has moved or touched a part of you in any way, then your support would be very welcome. To help me on this healing journey, perhaps you’d like to buy me a coffee (although mines a tea) via the link below:
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