Cycling down over and over again is exhausting. It’s taken months for me to see my patterns, what drives me down, and what keeps me there. It’s taken me less time to truly understand what lifts me back up again — not giving away my power — and how to get back to that emotionally safe space.

Trauma is an ugly beast that rears its head in moments of solace and solitude. No matter how well we deal with or cope through our trauma, the sisters to trauma — shame, guilt, depression, anger, disbelief and shock, and even self-doubt — sit quietly in the shadows waiting for trauma to release so they can take hold.

I’ve spent the last four weeks or so building a new tribe filled with loving, kind, gracious, accepting women who challenge me and uplift me at the same time. One of these friends sent me a text this week that simply said, “Lesson number one, young Jedi — never give away your power!”

She, of course, having only known me for about two days, has no idea just how many times I’ve given away my power, too much information in the name of trust to those I thought would hold me inside the same safety and security I’d come to expect, and allowed myself to cycle down again and again because of my own choices to give away what I should treasure most.

My trauma is massive. It’s layered in lies, broken promises, distrust, deception, personality disorders, mental health, boundaries crossed, disrespect… this list could go on.. I’m a fucking onion. I’ve discovered that giving away my power is exactly what I do when I begin to spiral down. It starts with not eating. I stop exercising. I don’t reply to texts or answer phone calls. I write less. I work more. And with each piece of myself I give away to trauma itself or to its horrible sisters, I offer up the power to heal myself again — and cycle again.
Rinse.
Repeat.
Here we go around the fucking mulberry bush.
Again.

It’s a process of changing mindset and resetting my goals to reach the safe space where I need to be mindful and present — with ME.

As I peel back these layers, I learn what to trust, how to feel in safe spaces (which is not always safe, by the way), and when to let out anger. I’m in the anger stage now, and that changes quite often. Anger and sadness ebb and flow, mixed with disbelief and the worst motherfuckingest moments of ineffable clarity, never truly clear, but rather clouded with the trust I no longer carry in my pocket like the blind faith that comes from pure love and trust. Those are gone. I hope not for good, but for now… gone.

I don’t understand much of what happened. I talk to friends who went through similar experiences, and none of us can figure out how to connect the dots. But I’m learning they were never mine to connect. I was merely walking the path from dot to dot until I was no longer welcome. The more I try to figure it out and reconnect the paths we once took to find the break in the map, the space where our hands stopped holding and the space between grew inside the vast hole it is now, the more questions I have, the more anger surfaces, the more selfish I feel because I made a promise I planned to keep and thought I’d been gifted the same, especially with such change and unstable ground. The more conversations I relive where promises were gifted time and again piled upon deception and rejection… Oh god… it’s all so much. So many layers of believing I am the dumbest person alive. These cycles are becoming pointless. They unravel more than they resolve. And sometimes, they are necessary. But… they also give away my power each time I invite them inside my head. Each time I open my heart to hurt a little more why I reconcile the pickles and peppers, I fill my head with someone who stopped loving me long before she told me, stopped loving me inside the safety and security of us, and left me to fend for myself and our family alone. And that full head is powerless to thrive inside of forced change.

My trauma is no more than anyone else’s… and in many ways, it’s far less traumatic than some. But playing that dangerous game of comparison is unhealthy. Treading water while knowing someone else is drowning doesn’t make us any stronger in the long run. Sure, we might be able to muster more strength to help, hold on, or grab hold of someone less capable, but without a boat, we’ll all be drowning at some point.

Don’t give away your power is something I’ve said for months. On my morning runs with Donna Summer singing On The Radio. Don’t give away your power is something I’ve heard for months. The text from a new friend reminding me to live again was what I needed to take it back. It’s funny how life takes its hold on us, stopping us in our tracks, holding us back simply by what we leave behind in the world. I used to tell my children, especially my oldest daughter, who had been horribly bullied for most of her childhood, to focus on not letting others rent space in her head without paying for it — with kindness and love.

Recently, I was given a gift. Generous, yes? Of course. Gifts are inherently generous. This gift has haunted me since I accepted it. It was never communicated to me that it was given with terms. It was given to my son, but he was unable to receive it… and it was still granted to me. Once I was in position to receive it with someone I barely knew in place of my son, I realized it wouldn’t work to accept the gift. And there was no time to make adjustments. In fact, as gracious as it was, it was done with little time before the time to use it. Had my son been available, all would have worked out joyfully, of course.

So, I tried to do the right thing and regift this gracious gift to someone I knew well, someone I thought my gifter had known as well, someone who had just lost her mother. Now one person in the couple that gave me this gift had lost her entire family, so she knew what it was like to say goodbye to a loved one in this particular way. From that moment, I communicated my plans to ask this woman who shares this same space with us and received a rash of belittling shit via text message. Ruined the entire evening for me reading message after message about my responsibility with their gift, how much it costs (by the way, it was an upgrade from what I originally had, and mine cost money too, so throwing its full value in my face without recognition of what I had already paid and was happy using was pointless and only for the purpose of shaming me.) I spent an evening with my purchase and a slightly upgraded gift of the same purchase and a barrage of shaming text messages, bullying me into taking the gift, then complete silence.

Since this silence, I’ve tried to reach out in text with one in the couple and in-person to both in the couple. In friendship, to thank them, explain why I had to change my mind suddenly and not accept the gift, and clear any stagnant air between us. Shamed again!

Good god… why is shaming people such a common go to?
But get this — in my hurt and anger, and yearning to just be heard even if not accepted, I did it too. Called up three things I could that I knew might pull a similar sting. I’d been hurt. So my reply was to hurt back.

I gave away my power again.

Now… let me say this. Their constant barrage of shaming, communication for the purpose of projecting guilt, and insistent intolerance over my choice to make independent decisions was in place to cause me hurt. And it worked. It’s been more than two weeks, and I’m still noodling it.
I’ve even had people (many they know) tell me they are not worth my time. Regardless of their character, I cared what they thought of me.

Gave away my power.

It’s a vicious cycle. To own our power and don’t hand it over to people stuff. It’s serious business too.

Recognizing it takes mindful intent. I will have one more thing to say about this incident, but after that, I fully take back my power. It’s gone. Done. Not my problem. I could have sold this gift on the street for face value. I did not. I could have ignored it altogether. I did not. I could have done a lot of things. Faced with a gift of generosity without terms until I choose independently and a circumstance out of my control, all I attempted was to do the right thing.

Sometimes doing the right thing turns out the be the most motherfuckingest two weeks ever.

Lesson number one, young Jedi -never give away your power!

Don’t give away your power!

Be well.

~Stella