Thursday, July 29, 2010
On Monday, it will be the 4th year anniversary.
Four years since I was parked on by a car. 4 years since that first awful night in the hospital, not knowing what was going on. Since my life got flipped around, and I entered this hazy, middle-ground where things got both fuzzier and clearer at the same time.
It's emotional, you know? Something life-changing happens, and you're expected to just "move on". Pull those socks up. But my question to you is, do you ever "move on"? I ask this to you, to those of you who have suffered major traumatic, sudden experiences: perhaps a loss, perhaps an illness... perhaps you've survived, but do you still feel a little "damaged"? I do. Daily.
Some of the people in my life -- I suppose they believe they are helping -- are like, "but you can move on, you're strong". Perhaps I'm just a PMS-ing ball of mush right now ... but I've had a LOT happen recently, including some pretty crazy motion on the lawsuit front, and to that, I'd like to hold my 4th and pinkie fingers with my thumb, turn my hand knuckles out, and move my index and middle finger into an upward motion. (That's a derogatory move, in case I've over-explained the motion... I do that from time to time. Feel free to substitute for any other "up yours" move that you have)
Does anyone else feel this way? Does anyone else feel like this year was supposed to be, "for you?" That the New Year started, and there was this huge rush of energy, where you just felt like, "FINALLY! All this suffering was NOT for naught, no-siree-bob, 2010 is for ME!" And you went on your merry way, and perhaps encountered some challenges, but nothing you couldn't face, because there was suddenly this surge of "things-going-right"?
What happened to that?
This summer was supposed to be for ME. I was setting goals. I was following commitments. I was truly expanding my comfort zone, and growing, and all of those things Tony Robbins tells you to do.
And then... June came. And July. And now August.
And now it's been 4 years since The Event that Must Not Be Named... and here I am, living back at home, in the same room I moved back to 4 years ago, feeling the same pain, so much so tthat I'm starting to think just doesn't go away. I'm in that emotional space where I set up walls, and I shut down, and I lose hope. I get jealous, and scared, and I can't help myself but I still say things that I don't mean to people who are important to me. And the people close to me, in turn, go to their emotional defenses, and suddenly I'm spiky, and my partner's spiky, and I'm suddenly this terrified, lashing-out, robot of a human being, and he (rightly so), has had enough emotional drainage and he leaves the room ... so where do I go? Youuuu got it, abandonment. Damn you, daddy issues!!!!! UGGGGH!!! Will healing NEVER come?????
This may sound exactly like every other post I've ever posted... but will I ever have control of changing my thoughts and emotions? Tony Robbins, Abraham-Hicks, Cheryl Richardson, Louise Hay, and Deepak Chopra say I do.
I'm beginning to think they're lying.
Oooh, or maybe, they're aliens from outer space who have come to Planet Earth to taunt us with their incredible mind-changing powers... yeah, that's it, they have these powers and although they know we are completely unable to do what they do, they tell us we can, just so that we can howl in frustration trying to do the impossible.
Yes, that's most definitely it ... aliens from outer space. Not even just the rich "motivational" people, but really, anyone who's successful. Even your most successful of friends, you know the ones, those who are always just one step ahead of you with their success and their positive, "go-getter" personality. Fuck them. Aliens. All of them.
So once again, I start a blog with one intention, and it turns into a lashing-out on alien mind-shifters who are planning to kill the normal people with their insidious ways.
But please, please, please, dear readers, please tell me I'm not crazy. I'm allowed to wallow a little, after 4 years of awful, awful stuff... and please tell me that the aliens are really out to get us.
Love, love, love.
Posted by Megan Phillips at 1:00 PM