I have often thought about starting a blog; somewhere to offload unforgivingly into an abyss that feels safer than the confines of a personal therapy session, where you have to make eye contact and actually accept the uncomfortable situation. But as I sit poised ready to write those nerves are still creeping vehemently across all I had hoped would be different. 

Wondering why I now feel intense anxiety sat behind my keyboard ready to unravel a tangled story of emotion, the realisation is that it has never ever been about the situation I’ve found myself in, whether that be sat in a therapy room or now alone, in the safety of my own sitting room, on my own comfy settee. It’s to do with the deeply raw, honest, painful things that have and still consume me. I can’t promise to write articulate, perfectly grammatical blogs because I don’t have that skill but what I can promise to do is give an openly honest, hopefully relatable account of what it feels like to have gone through things that I never asked for, experiences that were undeniably wrong, and untangle the messiness of life’s events. 

A lot of what I carry comes from childhood, those ripple effects from parents that were quite frankly, emotionally, physically and sexually abusive. Those experiences have shaped me in ways I am still now, even at the age of 45, trying to understand. Some days it feels like my past is right there like the shadow that doesn’t quite go away. It shows up in the way that I think about myself, in the heaviness that I sometimes feel and the constant ruminations of past memories. 

The hardest part is coming to a realisation that the echoes of the past have shaped the very person that I am today. The quiet habits, the hidden words that are not spoken because of the swell of fear that sits in the pit of my stomach. Some days pass unremarkably and they are a small mercy but others I feel like I’m right back where I started. The child that is scared and unsure…but I’m not that child and writing this is my key to not being there anymore. That unlocking my story is allowed. Perhaps I’m allowed to take up space to tell my story, and untangle what has happened.

Maybe you have felt this way too or something similar. Carrying the weight of a past you didn’t choose. The need to heal from the things that you never asked for. Wondering whether there will be a time when things will become lighter. If so then you are not alone. I believe so many of us keep these things quiet for fear of judgment or misunderstanding. When all we really want is for someone to say the words…me too! 

I don’t have all the answers, and I’m certain I never really will. But sharing this feels like a step in a more positive direction, one that leads away from the darkness of hopelessness and towards the light of change, no matter how small that may be. If any of this resonates with you, I’d love for you to come on this journey beside me, even if it is just reading.