Impact of words on me.

‘Lazy, disorganised, fat, you have such a pretty face, you are not going out looking like that, have you brushed your hair, stubborn, clumsy, what are you wearing, be quiet, chatterbox, talk to much, if you stop talking you would hear, you do not listen, don’t, you have to, because, what will other people think, if you had someone else proofread you would get high distinctions (I could have done with Grammarly back then), why can’t you be like a, b, c? I really like you a lot but I can not imagine being with a fat person, if you do that you will be in trouble, how can you find anything in that mess, on that desk, you were trouble before you were born and still are, if you were the first there would have been no more, and many more are the recordings of my life. My whole life until and this is where I am so incredibly thankful for having had my breakdown.

WHAT? NO WAY! Well no I am not saying that having a breakdown was fantastic thing it has been horrendous and I am so very thankful that I survived it, that I am an unsuccessful suicide. FOR This alone I am so happy that I did not succeed. So so very happy.

My life after my breakdown has not/is not always great no one’s life is no matter what is presented via social media sites and even blogs. Photos can be photo shopped. Not even related to the person blogs but images up loaded from a free site that has thousands of photos you can share. You can be anyone behind the screen, the power of the keyboard is very similar to creating more words that have the potential to Stop you.

I do not know how I might have coped, survived if this form of socialising via internet social media ect, if I was growing up in the times of this form of sociallising. Reality of the lives of so many posters bloggers, you tubers is hidden by those who write share her/his life. We can get caught up in the creativity of the person/s crafting their story, the stunning videos the light the ‘unnatural forgotten moments where the camera has caught the sharer. So now it is not just words but images, videos that might stop you too. Deception is real.

As a person with Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and a purveyor of photography and beautiful light and colours in videos I have been caught out. Looking for my own people who appear to have somewhat the lifestyle I aim for. So many of them I have been in awe at due to the age of the person who is sharing their personal journey. Yet when it is broken down or you think about it seriously I certainly have begun to ponder how they manage to have what they present and how they live; I recently became fixated on how they can do all this on their own.

Certainly the odd person is able to achieve such things, through hard work, and so very often hard times often with many sacrifices to get to their goals, if they have not had support or inheritance from family. Am I sucking on lemons and envious no but like the words that stop me the images, videos beautifully edited and shot, the person living in an isolated tiny home where snow is deep in winter. Doing it so beautifully bathing in the river in the winter. Yet when you look back and see how they have lived in their previous videos with lovely expensive things, and you see the kind of portrayal it is mostly them alone, and the reality can be very different. I know how difficult it can be to care for your own home and maintaining land when you live on your own. I am honest I inherited my home, my land from my partner/husband.
So in the past for me these videos at times would stop me and words such as lazy, hopelessness begin to get into my head, I would question myself why can I not do this. As I can feel inadequate hopeless, lazy, incompetent. I know I am not now. I know that for some of those bloggers you tubers, they don’t live this way either. Smoke and mirrors, fantastic editing, family support and financial help.
I question research and at time doubts. I also am aware of sponsorships, gifts given in exchange for subtle and not so subtle advertising is increasing.

It impacts trust, something I certainly have great difficulty with, and symptomatic of many folk with CPTSD and PTSD.

My breakdown connected me with my Psychologist who provides me with management tools and allows me to speak totally honestly in any manner as in rapid fire all over the place, sometimes emotionally charged and from places I did not realise I had put some of these words that hurt, that demeaned, that inhibited me, confused me, stabbed my heart, numbed me, and certainly became a hefty proportion of reflex and fright ,flight reactions when I was able to in my life fleeing was my chosen path always. I was totally oblivious to why.
Words, and now videos combined with music or photo have power in all our lives, the tone, the emotion involved can be a part of this, but not always.

The words those words that stopped me.

I have learnt and am learning to let the words stay in my life recording now that I CHOOSE;
I am choosing the words that speak to me that I want to be the record in my head, these words are beautiful, intelligent, delight, joy, kindness, acceptance, non judgemental, honesty, integrity, peace, my life, dogs, no, I can not, thank you, enough, nature, contentment, self-caring, thankfulness,solitude, compassion, decisive, knowing my own mind and trusting myself, Goddess and these words bring me the life I am happiest with and empowered me to be able to let go of my birth family. I do not keep people in my life anymore who do not walk in a similar manner.

It takes time to delete the sound track the words, photographs, videos and stories that have made you who you do not desire to be. My recovery from my breakdown is freeing me and it was the beginning of ME. Weirdly I always knew who I was, but the words constraints placed on me by family, education, work places, religion, the right way to act, live, and myself so often too, but when I listened deeply to myself I was always happiest.
My partner was the beginning of this loosing the words not hearing them any more that record of my life, when my partner died, I lost the sound of his voice and the old track returned loudly…I struggled with the words, and eventually my mind broke and here I am now several years since. A totally different life. Even on my bad days I am more and more content. Even on my bad days I am so much better at hearing my own words no one else’s. I read and watch others sharing their lives experiences, but I seek truth of the sharers and not a ‘almost contrived’ for likes lifestyle.

Find your own words and create your own recording and delete the words that bought you to where you are now. Questioning if you might have CPTSD, it is not easy, it was/is for me painful and very emotional yes I wanted to not deal with it so many times and I am sure it will happen again. The difference now is I want to stop those words, the recordings that are not mine. I am achieving this, I am so very happy to wake up every day, regardless of how I feel, and what it might bring.

Blessings to You, Tazzie

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