Sometimes my fallibility and humanness catch me unaware. Being chronically sick for so long was such a source of shame that at times I don't allow myself to feel. It is only when my body says 'enough' that my brain follows suit and recognizes it is time to stop.
Can you relate?
Oftentimes I will go back to my story and remind myself where I have come from and where I hope to go. It scares me to think of what I went through and how disconnected I can be from my body. I felt that my body betrayed me, so having an intimate relationship with something so cruel doesn't make sense.
Don't get me wrong; it's great 'doing life,' rushing from a to b and forgetting the pain and hardship I've experienced. Why dwell on a time in my life that was difficult? I never wanted to be seen as a victim, so it is hard to acknowledge that at times I was, and still am.
I tried hard to hide behind the mystique of 'being fine'... actually... 'better than fine' so at times I forget what it is like to not be fine, to not be okay... to be tired, to ache, and to feel sad.
Telling my story is a way for me to heal, and I hope help others heal. It is a way to connect with my body and allow my mind to wander.
There is a level of discomfort in being so open and vulnerable to the world, but I don't want to live in the shame that I felt being so sick, for so long, simply surviving with an ostomy. I am a survivor, but I am also a thriver (wow... that is actually harder than I thought it would be to say (today)).
I think I am not alone in struggling to be human. I imagine many others with an ostomy feel the same. I know others who suffer from chronic illness wake up some days and simply roll over and go back to sleep.
I also know it gets better. I guess that is why I am doing this. To connect to someone... out there... who has felt the same. Maybe commonality, a shared experience, will allow us both to heal. Maybe someone reading my struggles will recognize it is okay to have theirs. I felt so alone at times, so confused, so lost that I just wanted someone to reach out, take my hand in theirs, and never let go.
Take a moment with me. Place your right hand under your left armpit and place your left hand on your right shoulder. Breathe. In through the nose, hold for 5 seconds, and out through the mouth. As you breathe in, fill your lungs with a happy memory or thought. Hold that thought, then as you breathe out, push out a negative memory or thought. Hold/hug yourself in a blanket of self-compassion and love. Nurture yourself in this moment and remind yourself that you are human.
I may be wounded, but I am not broken.
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Can you relate?
Oftentimes I will go back to my story and remind myself where I have come from and where I hope to go. It scares me to think of what I went through and how disconnected I can be from my body. I felt that my body betrayed me, so having an intimate relationship with something so cruel doesn't make sense.
Don't get me wrong; it's great 'doing life,' rushing from a to b and forgetting the pain and hardship I've experienced. Why dwell on a time in my life that was difficult? I never wanted to be seen as a victim, so it is hard to acknowledge that at times I was, and still am.
I tried hard to hide behind the mystique of 'being fine'... actually... 'better than fine' so at times I forget what it is like to not be fine, to not be okay... to be tired, to ache, and to feel sad.
Telling my story is a way for me to heal, and I hope help others heal. It is a way to connect with my body and allow my mind to wander.
There is a level of discomfort in being so open and vulnerable to the world, but I don't want to live in the shame that I felt being so sick, for so long, simply surviving with an ostomy. I am a survivor, but I am also a thriver (wow... that is actually harder than I thought it would be to say (today)).
I think I am not alone in struggling to be human. I imagine many others with an ostomy feel the same. I know others who suffer from chronic illness wake up some days and simply roll over and go back to sleep.
I also know it gets better. I guess that is why I am doing this. To connect to someone... out there... who has felt the same. Maybe commonality, a shared experience, will allow us both to heal. Maybe someone reading my struggles will recognize it is okay to have theirs. I felt so alone at times, so confused, so lost that I just wanted someone to reach out, take my hand in theirs, and never let go.
Take a moment with me. Place your right hand under your left armpit and place your left hand on your right shoulder. Breathe. In through the nose, hold for 5 seconds, and out through the mouth. As you breathe in, fill your lungs with a happy memory or thought. Hold that thought, then as you breathe out, push out a negative memory or thought. Hold/hug yourself in a blanket of self-compassion and love. Nurture yourself in this moment and remind yourself that you are human.
I may be wounded, but I am not broken.
🔒 Login to see image