A Collective of memoirs by J.S. about Trauma + Mental Health + Abuse + Healing.
#christmas #joy #beauty #worth #selfesteem
This week I was given makeup, skincare products, a foot bath, and clothing that fits me perfectly.
I cannot tell you how much I have "needed" these things.
As a mom of 3 who stays home out of necessity, to raise my kids and cannot work because I'd have to way to get around [no car and no transportation], and would spend my whole check on daycare [for 2 toddlers].
So many women are struggling in the ways I am and i want to make these issues VISIBILE.
I AM IN NEED OF SELF WORTH AND APPRECIATION.
That is the Root of it.
Thank goodness we have a roof. And can just manage food expenses.
Without the support we have, we would have nothing at all.
And this "wont last forever" is the mantra I repeat as I cry in the shower, rocking myself and swirling around in defeat.
I used to stay silent about it all.
Don't tell anyone you struggle.
It is shameful.
It is "not classy to complain".
I am worthless.
Because everyone will ask me what I did to get this way.
I had a baby at 16 and was thrown out on my ass by my parents and ex, everyone but an Aunt I was close with were too shitty to step up.
My Aunt and Uncle were amazing to me and helped me for almost 4 yrs until I left to get my own apartment on campus of the 4 year college I got into after graduating at Community College.
I felt like a burden to her and her family. I still feel like I burdened anyone ever helped me.
Saying thank you is easy but calculating in my head what I'd have to do to pay people back is crippling.
I owe people my survival.
I owe people my life for saving it.
When I get help, it means I owe someone.
That is always how I saw it.
So when people complimented me for my work or my talents, i felt like I owed them.
It was uncomfortable to receive anything positive from anyone.
I was abused from birth til 16. Leaving my parents while pregnant DID NOT solve that. I stayed surrounded surrounded by trauma for years.
Because I was unaware of what it did to me, I gave my heart and trust to people who hurt me. Repeatedly. And without remorse.
As I worked hard in college and in a job to barely afford raising my daughter, I was also fighting depression and anxiety but had no idea.
I was so disassociated from my abuse and past that I had gaps in my memory and did not know the word "trigger" yet.
So i gravitated towards the things that kept me broken.
Having very little became habitual. I was not taught anything good about money, investing, or saving.
I was only taught, through experience, how to survive.
That mantra of survival of course stained my decisions and my goals. It stayed with me after marrying and having more kids.
It seeped into my marriage. My parenting.
My self esteem.
Devastatingly unaware, I made "the best" of everything.
I chronically thought small. Chose small.
I only convinced myself I was going big.
Just to keep my mind and body safe from a breakdown, small felt like a cozy hole to make a home in.
This week I realized that bigger feels better.
That going big and sharing my soul feels so freeing.
This year I am chasing JOY.
Joy of playing it big. Of putting myself out there.
I am poor.
And in the three months I have been writing about it, I have been releasing all shame.
The shame of being a stay at home mom ---> which is the hardest work I have ever done, sans paycheck.
The shame of taking time to heal ---> to bartering my way to affording it and using my talents in exchange for services.
The shame of being a "single mom" again because I said yes to supporting my husband working long distance --->when I'm lonely and sad dealing with my mental health and being mom alone.
I've said yes to things that don't bring me joy and I am tired of that.
As it turns out, I've just had a poor attitude.
Now I know I am whatever I choose to be.
And when someone tells me how low and broken they feel, I can tell them it is a choice.
But that is not all.
We have to change ourselves.
The things we want, we need to speak them.
Make them happen.
Do small tasks daily to work towards them.
This week I have been able to get dressed up in new items and put makeup on my face.
I have cried more times than I can count.
Not because makeup and sweaters were the answer.
But because I feel worthy as I slip into a sleek black sweater and put primer on before painting a face that looks new to me.
J.S. JADED SAVIOR
Content mention of Rape, Abuse, Neglect, Addictions, Mental Illness, Kidnap, Molestation, Child abuse, Teen Pregnancy, Abortion, birth, body image, gender/identity dysphoria, sexuality, personal trauma, domestic violence and other extremely personal stories. Please practice caution. I am not a licensed physician or mental health professional. No medical prescribing is provided on this site, Only personal insights, experience stories, and advice; All stories published have had prior authorization. Questions? Contact Jean at: firstname.lastname@example.org
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