What We Don’t Feel, We Don’t Heal
So here’s the thing, the truth we don’t always like to admit to ourselves.
What we don’t feel, we don’t heal.
There is no escaping the unpacking we must do for the emotional baggage we carry and the devastating experiences we have. Those are the things that change and shape us and it’s our responsibility to navigate through them, or risk losing ourselves to them. If we try to avoid the process by going around it, under it or just ignoring it altogether, that toxicity will bleed into every other single thing we do and become a deep dark secret that we spend our life trying to hide. And who wants to walk around hiding a part of themselves? Belonging is everyone’s desire. And if we don’t belong to ourselves first, if we don’t learn to integrate our shadow self and our light, then how can we find belonging with anyone else?
After my recent trauma, when I had to end a toxic relationship, deal with the onslaught of malicious harassment, come to terms with filing a restraining order and then sit with the reality of what happened, I had this compelling desire to stay connected with my inherent truth. After all, an important part of my life had been committed to this relationship and it deserved my reflection. I knew that all my answers were in me, waiting to be uncovered and heard. And the only way to listen was to feel everything. So, I invited it all in.
I made a very intentional choice to not let myself be distracted by anything that would prevent me from experiencing all the nuances of my situation. I didn’t date it away. I didn’t drink it away. I didn’t smoke it away. I didn’t fuck it away. Not that I didn’t have opportunities for that and it would’ve felt great, but I carried this intimate momentum toward being healthy and didn’t want to miss a moment of that. I didn’t want to get in my own way. I knew what was coming and was ready for the arduous process of excavating the pain and getting to the other side, where I would be healthy and free. I didn’t want to carry this around unresolved and I certainly didn’t want it to make me bitter or armoured up. So I listened, paid attention and let it teach me. I allowed every emotion to simmer and bubble and welcomed it all, as much as I do joy and serenity. Amazingly, it was not as hard as I expected. I knew the terrain better, I recognized the landscape of healing.
I became intentional and made my world small, very focused for a time, staying home more and surrounding myself with only those few choice people that know me completely. Not out of isolation, but as a way to connect, to feel grounded, so I could silence the chatter of rumination and really hear. And there were moments, between the lines of the story I had written for myself, where I could feel it happening. This transformation washed over me. I was not just taking space, but creating space for me, the whole of me. I had removed something harmful, making room for what belonged to me, and I now felt strong, energetic, light and liberated.
When I experienced my PTSD incident at the hospital a few weeks ago, it was both alarming and enlightening. I felt out of control, yet also knew that I was having a breakthrough moment, a culmination of all the work I had been doing to get familiar with my pain. There’s an intense clarity that happens when you cross over the edge, when you go someplace terrifying, believing that it will make you better. There was a moment afterwards, a moment where I was enrobed in the warmth of self-awareness, and the world stopped. Where everything I thought I knew was gone and something different took its place. It was me. It was home. It was safe. I had leveled up. I leaned into that. I held that close and am certain I will never again stray from that place.
The initial process of standing up for myself was unnerving. At first, the weight of it made me hesitant. I had believed in his goodness with everything in me. The boundary I had to make felt cruel. It took my energy and time. I missed work and sleep for a while. But those feelings dissipated and what took its place was profound. So, when talking about the signs of abuse and what happens next, there’s something very important to pay attention to. The signs after you stand up for yourself, the signs after you leave, after you disengage, after you do the thing that makes you feel safe again.
You. Are. Empowered.
I immediately felt a sense of relief and serenity. What it did for my body was incredible. I had been experiencing so much physical pain from my illness that was already accelerating and this incident had brought it to a full boil, until, suddenly, everything started to calm down. My act of fierce self-love changed everything. It was as though I took a deep exhale. During my self imposed asylum I was able to recognize my triggers and release them. I felt no anger, no animosity, no resentment. I began drinking less, eating better and losing weight naturally. I stopped smoking, even for sleep and the pain. When I resumed my normal life, people everywhere were telling me I look healthier, stronger, younger and happier. I seamlessly flowed back into my social situations, meeting new and interesting people. I was aligning with the higher version of myself.
That is what peace feels like when you know you’re doing the right thing for you, when your motives are completely driven by self-love and not unresolved anger or vengeance. All the things that aren’t meant for you begin to just fall away, because you’ve told the universe you’re ready. Knowing your worth is everything. It is not selfish, it is the epitome of truth and the full embodiment of love. That’s the beauty of choosing to grow, to incorporate the struggle and do the work. It’s not magic, it’s an extraordinary reward of putting your emotional self on the line and owning it all.
I understand that it doesn’t happen like this for everyone, but if there’s one takeaway here it’s that the work is an integral part of any healing process. Just like PT for an injury. I have done years of emotional therapeutic healing because of my upbringing, and I understood that I would likely make trauma-informed decisions, with its many layers and complexities. I hold no shame for the abuse I’ve experienced since then, into adulthood, even though I fought so hard against it. I’m proud that I’ve been brave enough to allow it to guide me and fill me with knowledge I can share. I’m grateful that I’ve chosen not to show up in the world with sharp, broken edges, angry and cruel, ready to harm another person. I love who I have become and feel so connected to her.
Was I sad that he chose for the last breath of our love story to be extinguished by such insidious darkness? Of course. But not anymore. That’s not on me. This is on me, my healing work is on me, my decision to move forward with benevolence is on me. My choice to live a life of joy is on me. My courage to fight for myself and every woman that can’t find her voice is on me. And I choose to surrender to my future beyond him, send him light, and hope that someday he can see through his wounds to his path of inner peace, so he will never do damage like this again.