Backseat Drivers (Day 194)

Today, I found myself grappling with a whole slew of past traumas--I don't feel like or want to delve into what those traumas are. If you read Yoke and if you know me, you'd probably be able to figure them out. And what they are does not matter so much as the fact that they exist and that trauma has this way of hitchhiking along with us and shouting like a backseat driver whenever it suits.

It is trauma, after all and therefore, inherently an asshole. 

I am not sure why all of this has chosen to scream whisper in my ear today, but it has. For me, feelings of injustice are sometimes the trigger--and then also feelings of betrayal. Injustice and betrayal are always my Achilles heels (after all, I do have two heels)--and those thoughts always spiral into feelings of tantrum-like rage which then zap my energy, make my heart race and take away my creativity and drive to get things done and make things happen.

And as you know, life does revolve around getting things done and making things happen. For me, my ability to get things done and make things happen is a deep source of pride. But I just cannot do it right now, try as I might and that adds another layer to my disconnected mental state, self-loathing and frustration. 

I am not writing this for sympathy or prayers. I am writing this from a place of pure and unadulterated honesty.  I am not a victim. I am not looking for anything from anyone. I don't think of myself as particularly damaged or cursed--I am definitely not more or less damaged than you. I merely a grown woman who has seen and experienced life--life which is complicated and certainly not Eden--and I am just having a bad day. Bad days happen. We should maybe all talk about it more.

I think, for the most part, all us of walk around with varying bits of trauma, nagging us and scream whispering at us. I get frustrated sometimes when I feel or witness the pity of others directed towards me. It is not that I don't need support and kindness--it is just that I am not the only needy one. I don't want anyone to ever look at me and think: "Well I guess it could be worse, I could have her problems."

Seriously, pity is one of the most hateful, unloving emotions humans can offer one another. 

Empathy on the other hand, well, that is something else entirely. I'll take your empathy--like for example, I don't ever think people should hesitate to tell another person about their bad day in response to that person offering up their bad day first. Of course, if there was a cataclysmic event this logic does not apply. But when it is generally benign and simply challenging, I think trying to relate to another human being with your own struggles is the greatest gift. The same goes for times of extreme joy--celebrate the way you celebrate yourself. 

Anyway, tomorrow will be a new day. And don't worry about me. Pray for me if you want, but really pray for those who are facing tomorrows that might be worse new days. For me, tomorrow brings the promise of the silencing of the scream whisper and my backseat driver will hopefully have fallen asleep until the next stop.