Monday night reflection

So today I woke up, exercised, planned my day, had a protein shake for breakfast, knocked some tasks off my to-do list, listed more than one item for sale on Facebook, shared my uncluttering progress with my Facebook group, spent atleast 30 minutes quality time with my husband and I still have enough energy left to journal about all of it… I reached all my goals for the day… And I’m almost sure it has at least something to do with that weird I like myself game I played last night… Who knew making him worship you is all about working on your self? It is such a weird concept for me… So the more I take care of myself the more I am capable of taking care of others?! Growing up taking care of yourself was almost like a mortal sin… Or something you only did when it was sure to benefit someone or something other than yourself… As I’m writing this I can feel the anger rising up in me. How many lies have I been told? How many lies have shaped the reality I currently live in? I wasn’t aware that I was angry about this or in fact that this is so wrong to do to any human, never mind a child?! until I wrote it…

I would like to write and publish a book. I think it will be called “trauma”.well, to be fair… I have already written most of it… See today I found one of my old journals from when I was growing up… 2010-ish… That wasn’t a good time for me. I can see it, almost feel it by just touching the words spilled on the pages. They are filled with dwindling hope, crashing desires, unrelenting pain, suffocating emotion and explicit cries for help. I wrote that just before my first and only suicide attempt. With “just before” mean in build up years before the big crises that finally broke me… I took a while to break, but when it finally happened… I swear I could feel my brain fry inside my head. The “glitching” feeling of dissociation, not being able to speak, to be physically present, never mind emotionally… It’s the speaking part that still gets me. It makes me so mad when I realize now how many times my voice was denied. How many cries for help was ignored. How many people rather turned the other way or took advantage of my vulnerable and desperate state. It still kills me. Everyday.

Anyway, I just felt today, when I put down the old journal… I should publish this sh*t. See, I’m not that girl anymore. I’m not the helpless teenager with the clipped wings and broken toes surviving off of the crumbs of life…

I’m fairly successful, fairly accomplished, fairly mentally healthy, as stable as one could expect someone like me to be.. A chartered accountant, a business founder and owner, a married woman. I’ve escaped my childhood “home” and I now live in a real one – a home, 5km from the beach. Not too shabby of I do say so myself… Especially when you take into account that I was never supposed to have any of those things.. I have fought tooth and nail for every single one.

I just think she deserves to be heard you know – finally – that girl that died in that suicide attempt.. She needs to know that she deserves to be listened to, that it’s not her fault, that there’s nothing wrong with her. She wasn’t born broken. She was born beautifully. She was beautifully broken by terrible people who were horribly broken and all of that is not her fault. So she can stop wondering, searching and start knowing… You know…

I won’t publish it with my real name although I’ve considered it… Too many people will be pissed off or hurt. Although at this point I don’t really give too many fucks… Not all people, I fact all people are bad and good not either or..

Tomorrow I going to get up, exercise, have a protein shake for breakfast, post at least one item on Facebook, knock 3 priority tasks off my to-do list, do yoga, journal and go to sleep happy.. Who knows I might even read more of the make him worship you course since it seems to be working so well… On me… Husband still looks pretty much unchanged, but I am better and that makes me better able to offer… More…

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