Stones in Pockets

I watched The Hours today. I have watched it once before, but I forgot how sad it is. I can’t get the image of Virginia Woolf wading into the river, her pockets full of stones, out of my head.

I have been filled with despair this weekend. Don’t worry. I won’t be wading in the water anytime soon, but this dark hole has reminded me of some old hurts that aren’t healed…not even close.

I have tucked away these feelings of unworthiness so well that I thought I had actually moved on and healed. I’m learning this weekend that my wounded heart is still beating, but this new gash brings my attention to the fact that I am still hurting. The good thing is that I am not in that protective coma anymore, but that is also the bad thing. I am feelings things, awful things and I’m not liking it. I want to return to my shell and hide REALLY bad.

I am having a ton of dark thoughts too – black strap molasses thoughts about my packaging and how it is less than desirable. What this really means is that I haven’t evolved and healed my negative body image stuff like I thought I had. I knew I still had work to do, but I am now painfully aware that I am essentially back at square one. I have to find a way to accept the person I am right now and know that it is enough.

I guess it isn’t fair to consider this a total reset – I am sitting in the discomfort. I’m not running away. I am not isolating as much as I would have in the past. I am establishing boundaries. I am trying to pick myself up and I will try again. Even though I don’t want to.

I’m sad and lonely. Even looking at that sentence depresses me. I want to erase this entire post and pretend that I don’t feel any of this, that everything is fine and I’m fine and to everything there is a season. I’d love to pretend that it all makes sense in the grander scheme and I have faith that it will be okay.

But tonight, it’s not fine. It wasn’t fine yesterday either. And it probably won’t be fine tomorrow. But on Monday it will have to be fine because I refuse to go back into the fallout shelter that was my old life. I will find a way to change my perspective and learn to love who I am, come hell or high water. But I will do it without stones in my pockets. I am stronger than I was before, even if I still feel broken.

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