#selfidentity #shame #trauma #healing #ptsd #empath

Something happens when I look at myself.

As an empath, a trauma survivor, and a high detailed creative ---->
I feel DEEP sadness when I see the look in my own eyes.

It has taken me I suppose 29 years of life to step into self awareness.

To fully process who I have become because of TRAUMA.

I tell my stories weekly here on Facebook and also on my blog because I want to give you the puzzle pieces of what I am comprised of.

I might tell the same story a few times from different angles and analyze them in different ways
----> but my stories are important.

These pieces of who I am, when translated onto paper or screen are given life. Validity. Power.
I grew up without those things.

No power. No control. No stability.

No life of my own.

That was until I stepped up and starting making the hard choices.

And the hard choices were not always the right ones, but they were the ones I MADE HAPPEN with autonomy and bravery as I overthrew abusive situations and tyrants in my life.

The mistakes were mine to make.

The truth is I love public speaking. I love the energy of other people.

I walk around town, malls, stores, libraries, even parks just to be near other people. I am fed by the energies + moods + expressions of others.

And while it can sometimes be draining, I am still made happy by connection. So I will take little breaks and then step back in fully ready to bask in the beautiful of collective human interaction.

What I do not like and what has brought me a great deal of PAIN -----> is sitting with myself.

Gosh. I just hate my own energy.

I have felt like a wilted plant.

I can see the brokenness in my own eyes.

I can hear the fear in my throat.

I know she is deeply hurting.

And quite possibly, It all goes undetected bu everyone around me.

I wonder often if my husband fell in love with a girl with sad eyes, so he would never even know what my happiness potential looks like.

I wonder if my children mistake my expression for disinterest, even though they are my pride and joy.

I always hated selfies and made sure I was the one to take the holiday photos.

This fall season, I began to take photos of myself weekly. When I felt depressed or shitty or stressed out. When I was having a panic attack.

When I felt shame.

And I would study my face. What emotions surfaced when I looked at myself in those states of emotions.
Something really beautiful began to happen.

Instead of anger or embarrassment, I would see myself and feel love for myself.

For this girl who is F*CKING BROKEN.

IN PAIN.

LOST.

And yet, still getting up each day to figure it all out. To figure out who I am and love me through the process.
I walk around heavy, tired, longing.

I walk around jaded, fragile, shaky.

But each time I see myself, I also see a change.

As I SPEAK MY TRUTHS and embrace the broken parts of myself -------> I ache. But them muscle forms.

Like leg day, I share the gory and disturbing as f*ck details of what events made me.

But then I realize I am not "those stories".

And when I release my stories into the world, my eyes gain a little more sparkle each time.

J.S. Jaded Savior