Oh Charlotte. As the parent and spouse of people who've struggled with their mental health all of their lives I know full well the consequences of trying to "just get over it," or "man up." It pisses me off to no end. I have imperfect eyes, so I wear glasses - no one tells me to get over it. When my mother broke her ankle, no one told her to man up. If I have an imperfect brain, what is the big problem with asking for help? Once again your words have magically articulated what I try so hard to get across to people. I am so grateful you are in my life - even if it's only virtually.
It appears that we had similar childhoods - incredibly dysfunctional and deeply damaging. I am so sorry that you went through that too.
For years I tried to compartmentalize the whole of my childhood as separate from who I was as an adult. Move on, create brand new, as it were. When the damage would interrupt my day or night I always felt like a failure for not being able to "just move on dammit! It's in the past, leave it there!" So, not only was I dealing with the triggers, memories, nightmares, the bouts of depression and what I later learned was pretty bad ptsd, I was also dealing with feelings of failure and being ashamed of myself. I was so hard on myself. I bought into the American bullshit of "pull yourself up by your bootstraps" and "if you don't mind it won't matter" and all the other hogwash our patriarchal culture tells us about what strength supposedly looks like.
Then, one day I watched Band of Brothers. I had put off doing so, not because I didn't want to but because as a veteran watching military movies evokes both good and bad memories for me (no matter that WWII was way before my time) and I never know which memories until they arrive. But, that day I popped in the first DVD and watched and kept watching until I finished the series and the special features. Listening to the actual veteran's memories, seeing their pain and tears after so many years had gone by for them, it shifted something inside me. I felt it but did not yet understand so I let it be - just let it percolate for a few weeks and then it seemed so clear.
It is all me. The damage is part of me and not something I will ever be able to compartmentalize or put behind me. It will always pop up in the form of triggers, some where the reason or connection makes sense and some that never will. It is who I am. Damage and all. I realized too that I am still here. I mean, duh, I obviously knew that but I never gave that any weight. I just kicked myself for all the times my brain told me to leave. Yet. All those times that my brain told me to leave, I had not. I thought about it, planned for it and came very close a few times but in spite of all that I am still here. Maybe it sounds silly but that realization staggered me. I survived the horrors of my childhood and significant MST and even though I still struggle, sometimes every single day and some days it seems like it's every single hour, I. Am. Still. Here. That counts. I realized that what I thought of as broken and dysfunctional was also capable and resilient. So now, my approach is to plan my days, live them as best I can and when the triggers, memories, nightmares and bouts of depression show up I acknowledge it all, sometimes even greeting the fear and anxiety and panic and depression - "Hey, it's you again" or "Okay fear, now what do you want?" or "Yeah, yeah, I feel you panic but we'll get through this". (Sounds silly but it does help.) I tend to the very basics of my life until I have the energy for more. I go forward if I can. Or I turn to my "get through this moment" (or days) list for when moving forward feels too exhausting. I made a list and put it on the fridge in case my brain is too tired to think and I do one thing per day during the really bad bouts of fear or depression. I wait. I get through it again. I quit kicking myself, quit calling myself a failure for still having the triggers, for still having days when my brain tells me to go, quit feeling ashamed for still struggling. I still have to remind myself not to attack myself as a failure but that's okay. Every time I remind myself not to do that it strengthens that new neural pathway in my brain and one day it may be second nature. If not, I'll just keep reminding myself. It's all me and I have nothing to be ashamed of.
Neither do you Charlotte. You are damaged from going through hell and you are courageous, funny, resilient and you have nothing to feel ashamed of. Struggling with our awful backgrounds is what we do to have the life we want. It's normal, not something that marks you as a failure. You said "I'll never do anything half as brave as what Simone Biles did ...". You already do Charlotte. Every single day. You try and succeed and fall down and try again. That is bravery. Every single day. I take nothing away from Simone Biles' bravery to tell you that. She is indeed quite brave in so many ways. But her bravery and her experiences do not negate or diminish yours. Remember that. You have nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to kick yourself for.
Thank you for sharing more of your story. I hope mine might be of some help. I send you all my best.
I loved your essay even though it made me cry. 💕
Oh Charlotte. As the parent and spouse of people who've struggled with their mental health all of their lives I know full well the consequences of trying to "just get over it," or "man up." It pisses me off to no end. I have imperfect eyes, so I wear glasses - no one tells me to get over it. When my mother broke her ankle, no one told her to man up. If I have an imperfect brain, what is the big problem with asking for help? Once again your words have magically articulated what I try so hard to get across to people. I am so grateful you are in my life - even if it's only virtually.
This essay is brilliant. Thank you.
Thank you for telling your story. Thank you for doing the hard work to take care of yourself. Thank you for being here. 💜
Brilliantly stated Charlotte.
Our world is a better place with you and Simone in it. Love and peace to you both.
It appears that we had similar childhoods - incredibly dysfunctional and deeply damaging. I am so sorry that you went through that too.
For years I tried to compartmentalize the whole of my childhood as separate from who I was as an adult. Move on, create brand new, as it were. When the damage would interrupt my day or night I always felt like a failure for not being able to "just move on dammit! It's in the past, leave it there!" So, not only was I dealing with the triggers, memories, nightmares, the bouts of depression and what I later learned was pretty bad ptsd, I was also dealing with feelings of failure and being ashamed of myself. I was so hard on myself. I bought into the American bullshit of "pull yourself up by your bootstraps" and "if you don't mind it won't matter" and all the other hogwash our patriarchal culture tells us about what strength supposedly looks like.
Then, one day I watched Band of Brothers. I had put off doing so, not because I didn't want to but because as a veteran watching military movies evokes both good and bad memories for me (no matter that WWII was way before my time) and I never know which memories until they arrive. But, that day I popped in the first DVD and watched and kept watching until I finished the series and the special features. Listening to the actual veteran's memories, seeing their pain and tears after so many years had gone by for them, it shifted something inside me. I felt it but did not yet understand so I let it be - just let it percolate for a few weeks and then it seemed so clear.
It is all me. The damage is part of me and not something I will ever be able to compartmentalize or put behind me. It will always pop up in the form of triggers, some where the reason or connection makes sense and some that never will. It is who I am. Damage and all. I realized too that I am still here. I mean, duh, I obviously knew that but I never gave that any weight. I just kicked myself for all the times my brain told me to leave. Yet. All those times that my brain told me to leave, I had not. I thought about it, planned for it and came very close a few times but in spite of all that I am still here. Maybe it sounds silly but that realization staggered me. I survived the horrors of my childhood and significant MST and even though I still struggle, sometimes every single day and some days it seems like it's every single hour, I. Am. Still. Here. That counts. I realized that what I thought of as broken and dysfunctional was also capable and resilient. So now, my approach is to plan my days, live them as best I can and when the triggers, memories, nightmares and bouts of depression show up I acknowledge it all, sometimes even greeting the fear and anxiety and panic and depression - "Hey, it's you again" or "Okay fear, now what do you want?" or "Yeah, yeah, I feel you panic but we'll get through this". (Sounds silly but it does help.) I tend to the very basics of my life until I have the energy for more. I go forward if I can. Or I turn to my "get through this moment" (or days) list for when moving forward feels too exhausting. I made a list and put it on the fridge in case my brain is too tired to think and I do one thing per day during the really bad bouts of fear or depression. I wait. I get through it again. I quit kicking myself, quit calling myself a failure for still having the triggers, for still having days when my brain tells me to go, quit feeling ashamed for still struggling. I still have to remind myself not to attack myself as a failure but that's okay. Every time I remind myself not to do that it strengthens that new neural pathway in my brain and one day it may be second nature. If not, I'll just keep reminding myself. It's all me and I have nothing to be ashamed of.
Neither do you Charlotte. You are damaged from going through hell and you are courageous, funny, resilient and you have nothing to feel ashamed of. Struggling with our awful backgrounds is what we do to have the life we want. It's normal, not something that marks you as a failure. You said "I'll never do anything half as brave as what Simone Biles did ...". You already do Charlotte. Every single day. You try and succeed and fall down and try again. That is bravery. Every single day. I take nothing away from Simone Biles' bravery to tell you that. She is indeed quite brave in so many ways. But her bravery and her experiences do not negate or diminish yours. Remember that. You have nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to kick yourself for.
Thank you for sharing more of your story. I hope mine might be of some help. I send you all my best.
Brilliant.
❤️
I cannot wait to share this with my students in the fall. What a wonderful essay, Charlotte. Thank you.
Charlotte, just thanks.
Charlotte, you are so eloquent. Thank you for sharing your deeply personal thoughts and experiences. You are inspiring.
Thanks you Charlotte
Thank you, Charlotte. Your work is so important. Thank you.
Amazing & moving. Thank you Charlotte ❤️
P O W E R F U L.
Thank you.