White Knuckles (Revised)

from despair to gratitude

I don’t think this new, updated version needs a trigger warning this time. Thank you friends.

Photo by Amir Benlakhlef on Unsplash

Sometimes people will tell me how amazing it is that I have pushed through so many obstacles or conditions (CPTSD, OCD, bipolar disorder, anxiety disorder, religious abuse, narcissistic, emotional abuse) in my life to become “successful.”

What they don’t see is how my over-functioning is made up of layers and layers of masks I’ve worn to earn love, to feel that I deserve to exist, to feel like I am not a failure, to prove that I’m not weak, or stupid, or helpless. That is not success. This drive comes from expectation and fear, and I have no idea anymore what I look like beneath all of these masks. I fantasize a lot lately about taking a quarter off from work to live near the ocean, to see if my nervous system can stabilize long enough for me to find out.

Pushing through has caused massive cognitive decline. It leaves me with no emotional regulation so I react more than I respond. It has led me to isolation and agoraphobia. It leaves me crying every day in my office, my bed, at my kitchen table, in my car, at coffee shops, and even in my dreams. It makes me feel like I will never, ever, get better.

But, if I hadn’t pushed through all these years I wouldn’t have had the privilege of cutting my grandson’s umbilical cord. I wouldn’t have fostered nine dogs, and adopted four, giving them the life they deserve. I wouldn’t have experience of watching an abused, neglected kitty transformed by love and care into the beautiful cat she is today. I wouldn’t have met all of you. Everyone who has held me, or listened, or even those who have taught me the harsh lessons I needed to learn to become someone who can alchemize darkness most of the time.

With all of the damage that pushing through has done it is also laced with moments I never would have had and for that I am thankful, even when I’m in pieces.

White Knuckles

Push through even when your mouth is a desert sand.

Push through when your thoughts are spinning like a rogue ferris wheel with no end in sight.

Push through when there’s no one to talk to without feeling like you're a burden.

Push through because if you don’t you’re called: lazy, dramatic, attention-seeking, entitled, over-sensitive, over-reactive, manipulative, needy, and worst of all, weak.

Push through when you wake up with your heart racing, panicked for no nameable reason.

Push through when you’ve run out of Wellbutrin or Xanax and you’re suddenly raw and skinless again.

Push through when you're met with silence, dismissal, and invalidation.

Push through because if you don’t they will say you’re not trying hard enough–even though you’ve pushed so hard you’ve got gravel stuck to your knees.

Push through because you have no safety net, no arms to catch you, no back up plan. You are your back up plan.

Push through because everyone’s life is hard enough without you on their backs.

Push through the walls of fire, the walls of ice, the walls made of daggers, because no one is coming to save you.

Push through because you have no proof on your skin of the damage he did to you.

Push through when someone says, “Time heals!” or “Everything happens for a reason!” or “Think positive!” even when you want to punch them in the face.

Push, and push, and push. Even when your tires are flat and you’ve run out of gas.

But also...

Push through for the people who see you, the students who thank you, the daughter who cherishes you, the sister who always makes time for you, and the grandchildren who cheer when they see you. 

Push through for the friend who needs to be seen and supported, so you can make their day with flowers or donuts. 

Push through for the three dogs who lose their minds when you come home and compete for the first pet, for the cat who waits patiently and sits on your chest when your heart is racing. 

Push through for the good days you haven't had yet, the next dog or cat who needs you, your granddaughter's graduation, and your grandson's first day of kindergarten.

Push through so you're there for your daughter the day she wakes up to her first morning without her soul-cat.

Push through for all the poems you haven't written, the stories you haven't put down on paper.

Push through for everyone who believed in you enough to publish your work.

Push through because you have to. 

Push through because one day you'll be doing it for you, too.