writing to stop the screaming

i’ve written pages and pages today, urging myself to do what i know is best, healthiest, wisest for me to do, and then i pick up the phone and do the opposite. i open a box of graham crackers and start scarfing. i put the graham crackers away only because the phone rang and i answered it. i agreed to come over. i tried. i got sick trying. from my front door to the parking lot curb, dizziness and nausea took me down. i wonder how it is that i’ve become a weak, scared, shadowy sliver of who i used to be.

last week i sat shaking, physically and visibly trembling, in a room full of people just like me. i introduced myself. i burst into tears because the experience of belonging in that room frightens and supports me. i don’t want to be like them. i am like them. because i am like them, they can help me. they are healthier than i am in the sick ways that bring us together in these rooms.

i wrote an email to my boy best friend today. i told him about sitting in those rooms. i confessed why i belong there. i’ve been wanting to tell him for a few weeks. i want to tell you, too, and i probably will, eventually. but i can’t tell you today because i am too ashamed. i can’t tell you today because the truth is too big for words and my heart is too small to hold it. the only reason i’m saying this much is that i have to say something and this is the something i can say. i have to say something because my head is screaming curses i can’t translate and my head gets quieter when i write. i don’t believe what the screaming says. the screaming is only fear. fear lies. fear tells me i’m unlovable, unforgivable, and deserving of punishment. fear tells me that because others don’t know how horrible i am that i must punish myself. self-hate is an unnatural destructive lie.

i’ll throw out the rest of the graham crackers. i’ll turn off my phone. i’ll lay down with a book written by someone like me that explains myself to me. i’ll lay down with my journal and a pen and write more pages. the hours will pass. last night became morning became noon became afternoon and the evening, another night, and another morning will come. i’ll survive today. i’ll grow stronger. i’ll love deeper. i’ll learn the truth. i’ll practice loving and forgiving and letting go and being new. you’ll practice, too. we’re in this together. i hope that your process is much gentler, softer, and easier than mine. i hope you don’t have self-hating lies screaming in your head. i hope you speak kindly to yourself and give thanks for your own self-nurturing. i am grateful to all those who treat themselves and others nicely. thank you for loving you. thank you for loving me.

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About angel joy

love is an action verb. i live love in action.
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2 Responses to writing to stop the screaming

  1. Dianne says:

    I love you. I support you in your healing. And I’m proud of you for recognizing the lies, and working to believing the truth – you are loveable, you are loved, you are a good person.

  2. anisum says:

    Truth hides itself in paradoxes. We cannot run from the past, it is always with us. But every morning, every day, every moment, every nano second we are a different person. We are healed by changing the circumstances around us. We are healed by sitting with the circumstances around us. We must abandon any hope of being different than what we are. And to be alive is to evolve. We cannot stop it’s perpetual motion forward.

    Way to be with the paradox.

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