Daily Meandering - Normal equals Trauma?

I had a lovely childhood. I know I was loved; my parents told me I could be whatever I wanted; I was given many good hugs and music and skills for believing in myself. I do believe my parents did their best every day.

And still, as I learn more about myself, I sometimes look back at my childhood and feel traumatized. 

One of my books, Not Really a Murder Mystery, has a main character who was a victim of torture.  - I don't like those things, by the way. I have a difficult time reading them myself, and honestly, the only way I could do that to one of my characters was to say she was so busy believing in her rescue that she didn't actually feel the pain. And honestly, whenever I reread it, one of my first thoughts is, wow, a psychologist would have a field day with this. I even had a reader tell me that I did a good job describing the mental state of a the victim afterward, and she wasn't going to ask what I had been through.

To my knowledge, I haven't actually been through any kind of physical abuse or intentional harm at the hands of another being. (Cats excluded.) But I have never, ever liked the idea of torture. 

On Facebook the other day, I read a snippet of someone saying their parents had gaslit them a lot growing up. That made me think too.

Because I can say that part of my childhood memories, or trauma, is feeling like I never understood what people wanted, what or why they were doing things, what was going on around me. One of my oft used phrases these days is "Did that make sense?" because I'm not confident that I am expressing myself in a way that is understood. Sure, we're all using the same words, but our definitions are often drastically different. (Like saying something is bad. Is it really bad? As in not good? Or is it bad, as in to be admired?) 

In how many ways was I harmed, unintentionally, by my parents and teachers and family's and friends' desire to comfort and care and keep me safe? By someone else exclaiming that their truth was THE truth? by the insistence or expectation - even of myself about myself - that I be a certain type of person, act a specific way, perform within these parameters, fit into this mold?

In how many ways am I experiencing trauma reactions because I never have, even when I tried really hard, fit the "norm"?

Okay, I feel it, now what?

 S, one of the Happiness Practice steps is "how does it feel, physically?"

I am at an uncomfortable weight. Comparisons and body positivity aside, I dislike how massive I feel, how everything seems to cling uncomfortably, how I take up so much more space than I used to. 

At the same time, I have never felt more solid - and by that I mean, physically present, confident in myself, powerful. Capable. Well able. I am HERE. I am no longer a frail human, who needs assistance - okay, I don't feel like one - hmm, maybe I just feel less vulnerable. Strong in my abilities, which helps make it easier to accept assistance because knowing what I'm good at means being okay with feeling less skilled in other areas.

So, I literally and, probably, figuratively brought this on myself. Because I wanted to feel those things. I was tired of feeling like I had to be taken care of. I imagine anyone whose had a major illness or physical injury which lasts longer than a few days gets the residue affect of feeling frail, of wondering how it happened, where it came from and WILL IT HAPPEN AGAIN?! And those around us are hovering, watching, and it reciprocates when others have a difficulty and we are flashed back to our fragility, and  we all get into the cycle of caution for ourselves and for others. 

And I wanted to walk out in the world unafraid. Secure in the knowledge that I am held safely in the hands of the Universe, and confident in my own abilities. Strong enough to attempt things and wise enough to know when I have to ask for help.

So here I am, physically feeling like I always thought I looked in pictures (horrible, two dimensional, blob). And reveling in the feeling of strength and PRESENCE while despising the physicality. 

And I am believing so blessedly hard that the only reason I am here in this current form is to cement the feeling of capability, confidence and strength. And that I will be able to slenderize, so I can be comfortable, make room around me, and still feel solid. 

Or, maybe, I just need to realize that growing sideways will not ever, ever, ever, make me any taller. I might be able to lift the box, but I still can't reach the one on the top shelf without a step ladder.

Either way. I am ready to be a little more compact again. While still feeling strong, capable, and solid.

Compact? 

Hmpph.

Boundaries vs Empathy

 A while back,  I saw a friend's post on Facebook; it said "I am training to make my Boundaries stronger than my empathy."

At first, this is a difficult thing to contemplate; at least if you're like me. How to turn off the empathy? How to not connect to each and every person I come in contact with?

But let's look at it another way. 

Let's think of it in terms of authors. There are millions of writers out there - trillions? of books available. There is no possible way to read them all, even if I had the inclination. But I don't want to read them all anyway. I like specific types of books; I like specific authors. I have guidelines, criteria, for reading that brings me joy. You could call that boundaries. 

Okay - the same applies to food right? There are a thousand different kinds of food and another thousand ways of preparing them. I know that I like some things and don't like others and sometimes like others - depending on the way they're cooked. I also know some things are really good for my body and some are uncomfortable. So I make choices; I have criteria. I put boundaries in place for my consumption so that I am comfortable and strong and happy and aware. (Or sometime uncomfortable but still really happy. Can you say green chile salsa?)

Okay. Let's get a little closer to the empathy thing - let's talk about donations and volunteering. You can't turn a corner without seeing something or someone requesting money. Whether it's Patreon or tithing; donating at the counter of the grocery store or helping a neighborhood kid with a college fund. Special interest groups and focused appeals go out every single day - and burn up our phone lines as well. And they all want us to feel guilty for not giving directly to them instead of to someone else. But we each have XX amount of money or time to give.  Even the richest person I know has a finite amount of money available for distribution at a specific time. Even a person with gobs of free time only has 525,600 minutes in a year. So choices are made - interests are defined. Limits, and thus boundaries, are placed.

And if we think of empathy as something physical - as a coin to spend or book to read - we realize that we can only "care" so much. The cup runs out, the interest depletes, the ability to look outside ourselves and connect with another person dwindles. We only have so much focus to give before we are finished and wind up sitting in the bed with the covers over our head wondering why we feel so bad. And empathy is focus, it's putting ourselves in another person's shoes and "feeling" their situation. Sometimes blotting out our own personal situation.

So let us know our edges. And let us be strong enough to "just say no", put on our own oxygen mask first. And let there be healthy boundaries.