Some Thorns, Some Roses

XXXVII | The Unspoken Words

Coping. 

My therapist tells me that everything I do is a coping mechanism to save myself from every bad instance. That every single moment that I do something incredible stupid and impulsive is due to my trauma from certain instances. 

If that is the case then everything I have done in the past couple weeks have been from trauma. I don't even know if I am an actual person or just made up from coping mechanisms. 

A good example of this is way I bullshitted through my college essay and the way I'm probably going to fail the Order test, which makes me nauseous just thinking about it. 

Another coping strategy is the way I behave when someone mentions my marriage, the wedding, college or that stupid test. 

I smile and tell them, "I'm fine! All is well." And if I am being a 100% honest, everything is just fine. But it doesn't feel that way. 

It feels like my youth is leaving my body and to replace it is responsibility. It's an awful feeling. Especially when you recognize that things could be significantly worse. 

The last week of school I spent in my family home because Beau and I both agreed that I could use a little quality family time. My uncles, aunts, and cousins were going to be in town until the wedding and my brothers were finally on break. So we both agree that this time would be beneficial for me, especially with such a large transition that was about to occur. 

I was typing on my college essay, fixing typos, rearranging paragraphs and making it sound pretty even though it was far from flowery. It was rough and raw and more honest than I would ever be with anyone. But my advisor told me to lean into it. She told me to authentic and genuine and to even overshare because it would add to it. 

So at one point, I just started reiterating my thoughts as they came in certain moments in my life. It was difficult to dredge through all of those unpleasant feelings, but for some odd reason it was making me feel lighter. 

I wasn't aware of how much these things have affected me and how much pressure I have been putting on myself. In the moment, it all sucks, but now looking at it with a different set of eyes, I realize that I need to be kinder to myself. 

Not everyone has suffered from a bullet wound, skipped so many days of school (and successfully caught up), survived a sexual assault, a hostage situation, forced engagement, abandonment, grief (and guilt from the grief), and heart break all at the same time. Maybe I'm stronger and more capable than I thought I could be. 

As I was finishing one of the sentences, I didn't even realize I was crying until Atticus approached my door and opened it without knocking. 

His neutral expression quickly shifted to a concerned one, but it was only for a brief moment. He moved faster over to my desk and asked, "What's wrong?" 

I looked at him with a confused expression and stared at him. 

"You're crying." He answered, tilting his chin in my direction while his hands were casually in his pockets. 

I looked to the side at the mirror on my desk and saw that I was in fact crying. I sniffed and wiped my face quickly. "Oh! I'm fine. I didn't even realize I was crying." 

That didn't seem to make it better for Atticus, but I think he noticed that I didn't want to break down my trauma to him. It was already challenging doing it to a stranger(s). 

"I guess I just came to ask if you checked your phone?" he asked, sighing and awkwardly scratching the back of his head. 

I chuckled and said, "No, I've been busy. What's up?"