Yesterday I posted about some of the things I went through as a kid and I knew, without a doubt, that what was happening to me was wrong. On every level. That my brother was not like other folks, that his inability to have feelings or compassion or even know that what he was doing was wrong was THE thing that made him not like others.
Yet I have spent my life in fear that I was just like him. Tried to prove in every way possible that I wasn’t like him, convinced that I was. No remorse or compassion for putting someone through that kind of hell. Just his laughter at my struggle. At one point, I tried to tell him that he was wrong and got the shit kicked out of me. I tried to tell my mom, but he was her favorite so she didn’t listen. Her first child and for many years, only boy.
It left me in this confused state of knowing something and being told that I was wrong. So I learned to keep my mouth shut, never tell anyone what I was thinking, feeling, how something affected me. Kept everything to myself. Shut down and locked up tight. And I mean everything. One day, someone said to me, “Wolf is mysterious”. It took me years to figure out that I had become my brother in never showing emotion.
But it was safer to hold it in, cause then no one could use it against you. They couldn’t hurt you if they didn’t know you were hurt. I spent hours, sometimes days, convincing myself that something someone said or did, didn’t hurt me. Talked myself out of that hurt. Turned it into another story in my head, just so I didn’t have to admit that they hurt me. And I didn’t have to tell them that they hurt me cause that would mean giving them power over me.
And everything I have done in my life has been to make sure no one ever has power over me again. Ever.
But it doesn’t work anymore. It leaves me alone. Completely and utterly alone. Self-isolation, a recluse in my own head. And the truth, no matter how much I don’t want to admit it, is that I have been lonely. I want people in my life. I want to laugh in that big, deep, whole body shaking way. I want to show you who I am and I want to see who you are. But that means allowing people inside. Where I’m scared you will see what is there and say what my brother used to say to me. That I don’t deserve to be here.
As I write this, I wonder why the hell am I putting this out to the public. But I know why. Writing this here, in a blog, online where I never have to see your face, is easier than saying it to your face. Cause then you could see the uncertainty in my eyes. The fear of rejection. And no matter how much I tell myself that everyone has this fear. That everyone, in some way, feels this way. That fear of being seen and rejected, never goes away.
So my hope is that someone else, who has gone through something traumatic, who has these fears will find this blog and know they aren’t alone. And that there IS hope. Cause I’m slowly learning to take up space now. Learning to let people in. Learning to walk through my fear and open up. Have those big, deep, whole body shaking laughs. That there is immense power and strength in vulnerability. In showing vulnerability, I have found something inside I didn’t know existed. Belief. In self. In others. In the resiliency of life. In love. And most important, belief that it’s possible to heal.