I remember one time I went up in the mountains and went for a hike and there were these deer flies. I’ve never heard of them before that encounter. It was a swarm. They were like little stealth bombers. But the thing about them was they were relentless. I couldn’t shake them. I ran and they followed. Swarmed. They don’t sting, they bite. I got to my car and got in and the dang things swarmed the car. It was bizarre.
I couldn’t shake them.
Not only can I not shake the pain right now. Right now I’m having a hard time shaking the feeling that I’m unsafe. That it’s my own fault. Something about me. Blah blah blah.
I wonder if this is what it means to “make peace” with it. To just make peace with these things as a part of me. They don’t define me, but they are a part of me.
Something happened this week. Two things. One that made me feel more unsafe. Not great. Then I realized something else. That part of making peace with this is I have to validate it. A thousand people can validate it and it’s not enough. I have the trump card. My voice trumps everyone elses.
For years I’ve spoken about this stuff and I always say something like “Everybody’s got something”. And while true, it isn’t how I truly feel. I feel invalid. Unsafe. Angry.
For some reason, I look at the 12 inch scar on my chest and I still question its validity. I make excuses for the doctor’s comments dismissing it. I genuinely have a great ability to understand someone else’s point of view.
This week I was hurt. I felt unprotected. And I genuinely understand that person’s point of view. But there’s something about that that invalidates the hurt. As if there is an excuse.
And so I’m confused. I can’t shake it. I do understand. Yet I am hurt. Both are valid parts of me.
Whose voice will be the loudest….
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