The Ugly Side of Healing

The Ugly Side of Healing (Trigger warning)

The first time I filmed this animation, I wanted nothing more than to rush through it. I made the vines as simple as I could- barely adding any value whatsoever. The background of the images were composed of junk, trash, and a bunch of stuff overflowing atop my dresser. You can even see my tv playing Community in the background. As I sat down to edit this, it hurt my head and eyes to not only be confronted with the image of myself spread out and passed out, but the horrible artistic touch added made things so much worse. For there was nothing to focus on. Just me. Vulnerable. Exposed. In so much pain. This project was strange because for the first time, my perspective shifted from victim to onlooker or perpetrator.

The camera angle is direct, head on. It is as if you are looking from behind a corner to see what is happening. But you aren’t interfering. You are unable to, but the question is this.. Had you been able to intervene, would you have? You see that is what creates the division between my maternal family and myself. I was willing to lend my forgiveness for their neglect to intervene. To forget all of the pain they had caused me and rebuild our relationship. But alas, they even failed to reach that very low bar.

Not believing me was the final straw I should have never offered. They basically took it only to throw in a landfill before use. That being said- I will oppose myself here and say that I am glad that I did. Because, now, I can say truly and wholeheartedly that I tried my best. I was kind and willing to meet them halfway. I recognize that they did not deserve this. But I deserved to live a full life with the pride that accompanies extending a hand and making a genuine effort.

Here is the thing. Since seeing this from this perspective. From this overlook, alone and dark. Even me as an adult- this was painful. A sickness filled my body and suddenly I could barely breath or think about anything else. Seeing myself sprawled out on a chair like this showed me how wicked what happened actually was.. I cannot believe anyone could see a person in this state and approach them with invasive intentions.

I tend to fixate on understanding the monster. I know this. It stems from my highly analytical mindset. Forever trying to put logic and reason into spaces where they could not survive. Attempts at understanding cruelty is about as effective as starting a load of laundry only to continuously leave it in the washer molding until the next time you remember to start it again. Maybe one day the clothes will meet the dryer, but the overwhelming smell will serve as a memory that you failed at your attempt. They won’t stop smelling rendering them effectively ruined. Perhaps that is a problem only I face, who knows.

But what I do know, what was shown to me as soon as this conversation started, what many womxn have been facing for thousands of years.. like it is legitimately used as a punishment in the Bible ancient.. That rape and sexual assault leaves traumatized survivors and indifferent villains in its wake. For so long, it was only acceptable being used as a weapon in the race war that is America. There a religious leaders that literally preach a wife being husbands property or their requirement to serve him- those same leaders have openly and proudly denied spousal rape. Honestly, fuck those guys- they suck and their misinterpretations of a system I personally already have difficulty connecting with only pushes me further and further into the arms of atheism.

Who, by the way, is such a warm and welcoming lady. She embraces all forms of people only recognizing their place on the intersect as celebratory. Do not get me wrong, there are certainly “atheists” with conflicting views of right and wrong, but in my experience, many are simply lost people looking for a home. Outcasts, black sheep, such a stunning array of individuality wrapped up in someone who’s package wasn’t deemed acceptable to someone in their circle.

This is NOT to say I have an issue with religion- this is to say that I do not fit in. That I needed a different type of support system based more in the present that studying the past while planning for the future. Your differing opinions on this topic have no effect on me.. But I digress. Let me tell you what does have an effect on me.

Words. You see so much of growing up the phrase repeated- ringing in your ears every five minute, “I’m rubber you’re glue. Whatever you say bounces off of me and sticks to you”. But that isn’t true. We are earthly creatures. We are made of clay and constantly molding ourselves to be who we want. Rubber is fixed, Glue is temporary. You know, the way clay is composed- it is made of a bunch of tiny sheets layered atop one another holding its form. They serve as memory- this is why things warp. Because if you push the clay so very far to the right and then try to push it back to the left, it still has that moment instilled in its body.

I find we are much like this. Memory maintains us, it affects so much of our construct and mentality. I was thinking of the word memory this morning- recalling a moment in my recent western exploration that stuck out to me. We were going to this national park and obtained a map. Like every national park ever, it read “Only leave behind memories”. This, to imply that we shouldn’t litter. But that isn’t why this phrase was so potent.

No, rather, the idea of what memory means to people did. The memories I have left behind in those mountains have no relation to the many ecstatic zip-lining tourists I was faced with that day. They are not happy family trips nor do they serve as a supportive moment to look back on. Honestly, even the word memory itself does not shine in a positive light. It burns. It aches. It literally haunts my dreams.

Last night, for instance, I had the most awful type of dream- one that tricks the mind. I dreamt that I was in my house doing exactly what I was doing when I fell asleep- my cat atop my chest and my dog by my side, cuddling as we watched movies together. Nothing changed, not even the film. Only in this narrative, the ghosts of my past confronted me. Young Tawnies and even younger versions of my predators kept showing up. Coming into my house- their intention? Only to invade my safe space. To fill it with pain and fear. To be sure that not for a moment, did my healing process push me forward.

In this dream, I kept “waking up”. Thinking, truly believing that I was finally conscious and that the pain would soon subside. Only to shortly be greeted by an even more horrifying visitor than the last. I could not hide or rid myself of them. Honestly, I began to think it was real because I “woke up” around thirty times believing it to be over. For a moment, I felt stuck in that life again.

Healing can be difficult. It is not always “making beauty out of pain”. Not often is it fun and sometimes it doesn’t even feel progressive. But man, when it does.. Let me tell you what, there is no better feeling that having previous particularities or restrictions on my life lift. Finally enabling me to live for a moment as if I were “normal”. Able to travel and laugh, stay up late and eat, perhaps even go out and visit people. The everyday things so many people have taken for granted. I was unable to have that. So when I did, it was so invigorating.

I do not mean this to be a particularly negative excerpt, but rather, a realistic one. I am absolutely here to spread hope within my community and to encourage conversations that surround uncomfortable topics. But this does not mean that I will candy-coat or spread a dishonest message. Healing is fucking tough, it takes so much damn effort that people who do not have to do so could not even fathom. However, to express the level of gratification you get with each milestone would be impossible. It is unlike anything I have ever felt (and I used to do drugs).

So this dream, this awful, painful, mind-warping dream that I wouldn’t wish upon anyone.. finally ended. I woke up. For about hmm... an hour to two hours I did not get out of bed. I wasn’t sure whether or not I was actually awake and that fear stuck with me so firmly that I could not bring myself to find out. Until I did.

In this video, I included audio of the moments in Halsey’s Women’s March speech that stuck with me. The moments that can sometimes bring me to my knees with tears but somehow still manage to give me hope. The moments of pure emotion that I connect with on a cellular level. Her gift and her art that she was kind enough to share with her fellow survivors. I know how difficult that is. I feel her pain as she speaks.

But I also am enveloped by her strength.

It inspires me to nurture my own.

I can only hope that now, we can continue to spread that feeling of hope and strength to as many people as we can. So, if you can, watch my video. It is triggering just as her speech was, but I hope it helps you see what I feel inside. I hope you notice how far I have come and how much I accomplish everyday just by getting out of bed. I hope it can inspire some of you to appreciate the things you do that nobody can ever realize the difficulty level you are faced when doing so.

I just hope this helps.