What a scary thing to unpack the metaphorical backpack. For so long I excelled at filling it up. Collecting all the trauma of my life, the things I never truly processed. Tossing it into the pack so I could manage the moment that was in front of me. It seemed like the right thing to do, the healthy thing to do, not to let the things that hurt me or challenged me get in the way of moving forward and continuing to live.
It wasn’t a choice. It was about survival. Life keeps marching on, after all.
But I wasn’t moving forward. I realize that now. I was leaving part of me stuck in those moment.
And now the pack is too heavy, too full.
It’s still about survival, but now the backpack has to be unpacked.
It’s amazing to me that I can be perfectly calm, and when asked to speak of something from my past it can instantly set my nervous system into full on protection mode.
I cry, shake, fidget, take shallow breaths…I become completely surrendered to reaction, no longer in control….It’s all still in there. I thought I was ok just putting it all away. I thought that was strength.
And in a way, I had no choice. Life dictated that I keep going. And I thought I was being strong. And I was. But I see that I turned that into a running away…an avoidance. I didn’t come back to it in the quiet moments. I didn’t face it.
And now I have to unpack the backpack piece by piece. Allow myself to be vulnerable, to feel all the feels.
I have to face it all, bit by bit. It’s the only way.
The only way is through.
Process, learn, own, embrace, forgive…forgive myself.
And then, through the strength of vulnerability I’ll take my first real step forward in a long time.
With only a pocket to carry the beautiful rocks I find along the way. And a backpack full of gear
