You Mean Something To People You've Never Even Spoken To. When I See My Elderly Neighbor On Her Balcony

Credit: @dissociativedaydreamer

In case you needed to hear it today and no one told you: You are trying and that is enough for now.

What you call self-sabotage might just be your body saying: "Familiar pain feels safer than unfamiliar peace"

What you call procrastination might just be your body saying: "I'm overwhelmed and everything feels too much"

What you call anxiety might just be your body saying: "I've been in danger before, and I don't know if it's over yet"

What you call neediness might just be your body saying: "I didn't get what I needed, and I'm still longing"

What you call overreacting might just be your body saying: "This feels like danger to me because it once was"

What you call emotional instability might just be your body saying: "I was never taught that feeling emotions could be safe"

What you call resistance might just be your body saying: "I don't feel safe enough to do what you want me to"

What you call laziness might just be your body saying: "I'm frozen because I had to work hard for too long"*

What you call numbness might just be your body saying: "I had to shut down to keep you safe"

What you call avoidance might just be your body saying: "Im not ready to face this yet. I need slower exposure to it"

(the.trauma.educator on ig)

*gentle reminder that body gets tired also after doing mentally draining work/job (which includes feeling stressed too, not just studying or working 9-5 in front of a computer -which holds responsabilities, anyway)

“If you don’t leave your past in the past it will destroy your future. Live for what today has to offer, not for what yesterday has taken away.”

— Unknown

“Childhood trauma trains us to anticipate other people's needs while ignoring our own. As we heal, we rediscover ourselves.”

— Thema Bryant, PhD

oh, i am finally old enough to know why my parents took so long to grab their coats. why they would ask us to get ready to go only to sit down for another round of coffee. what would i tell myself, at 10 years old? it’s okay. sit down with them too. take in the extra hour with your friend and her family. when you get home, write down every moment in your diary. one day you will be older and you will be waving goodbye to your best friend, and you will turn the key to start your beat up little car engine, and you will look back over your shoulder. her hair will be blowing in the wind and she will be beautiful and you will be, for a moment, struck by all of it. what you will feel is so wide and nameless that it will engulf you. and you will think of being 14 and kicking her under the table in math every time you wanted to whisper something behind the teacher’s back. you will think about how long the days felt, and how you could hold her hand whenever you wished, but you didn’t. and you will think about all of the people you could have lingered with. and you will wish, more than you have ever felt a wish, that the universe just gave you that - more time to linger. more time to say - i love you. i know i need to leave, but i don’t want to leave you. and when i go, i am leaving a piece of my heart that lingers too. 

one more round of coffee. the days are so short, and you are so lovely.