Sundays are usually spent at home these days.
They were once spent with Ryan, almost religiously, but these days they are often spent with myself, attempting to slowly shift through way too many belongings while I prepare for the big move in May.
There are certain habits that I have that drive me crazy, a big one being that I struggle with putting clothing away. Washing it? Great. Folding it? I got that too. Putting it back in my closet for my cat to knock off the shelves? Ehhh…
Recently Ace got me to sign up for a smart phone app, Habitica, that keeps me on task. It lists out all that I need to do for the day, and a big one with a big scary red “it’s been sitting here for a while” alert is ‘put clothing away’. So today I went into my room and started the seemingly endless task of removing clothing from my bedroom floor.
Underneath the mundane clothing buried I found treasures that I had forgotten about, or tried to forget about. Sparkly bras, my favorite garter belt and fish nets. My Hello Kitty backpack with the CBD oil I had been looking for for MONTHS, the jawbreaker flavored one. Toys that I had loved and then lost, or so I thoughts. Little gear that I thought I hadn’t been ready to look at yet.
It’s odd moments like this that my brain finally has those click into place moments. I had buried my treasures underneath depression wrapped in a mountain of clothing. I had protected myself out of instinct with bad habits to avoid the pain that my mind had decided I wasn’t ready for.
One by one, I picked up the garments. I found my floor, and put what could be put away back in its place. I let myself be happy and sad looking at toys and outfits that brought back memories; some I was ready for, some I wasn’t. But I wasn’t numb anymore. I let myself feel, and wasn’t overwhelmed with feeling.
I am not okay, and I’m aware. But I’m healing. I can look myself in the mirror and admit that I have been emotionally abused. I can admit that I have been used, and that I love a narcissist. It doesn’t make these truths any easier, but I can be realistic in thinking about them.
I don’t know what I’ll do with any of this yet, other than go day by day, try to heal. And know that I am worth so much more.
I am slowly getting my grove back, even with broken and banged up edges. And somehow, I will be okay. With one bit of kindness to myself at a time.
Until then, dear reader, I am healing. And I am yours.