Feeling weary and worn down. Anyone with me? I have found many answers in recent days, and still, long for answers. Caught somewhere in between. Deep frustration lately with family dynamics and marriage woes. I feel compelled to begin sharing my story. You've heard the saying "Your greatest purpose comes from your greatest pain". I want to help someone else even if right now, it's just to let them know they are not alone. Am I mentally ill? No one seems to be able to tell me. Those who love or care about me tell me I am not. What that says to me is "you don't believe me." I feel that I have a mental illness, and I have felt this way for a long time. I have just never stuck with healthy help long enough to figure it out. This has been a long, long road to get here. There is trauma in my days gone by. So my current question is am I mentally ill, or just severely traumatized, or both? Somewhere deepdown I have this notion that they are connected; mental illness and trauma. And very closely connected is; the spiritual world. I have recently come to understand that my first trauma was the day I was born. I was born July 15, 1984, at St. Thomas Moore Hospital in Canon City CO. My first mother, whom I located just this year; gave me up for adoption. I was separated from her and for six months I don't know where I was or who I was with or who cared for me. Last year I probably would have agreed if someone said "babies don't remember." I would have agreed because I have no conscious memory of the day I was born. The theory of the Primal Wound inflicted on all children who are relinquished, made sense to me for the first time in my life. What I mean is; just now; at age 36, after lots and lots of confusion, loneliness, and turmoil, I read this book titled "The Primal Wound" by Nancy Verrier and I more clearly, understand my inner world. I understand that, yes I was actually hurt or, wounded by this separation from my birth mom, and that shaped a big part of who I am. Let me say, that I am not speaking as a victim, or looking for pity. We all experience trauma on some lever living in a fallen world, and some much more than others. The evidence supporting this theory of the Primal Wound; is in my story and how the pain from this wound manifested itself in much destruction and emotional distress. This is a story from my journey. I wish I could say I was adopted and everything was beautiful and I lived happily ever after. or perhaps I don't wish I could say that, but I don't know how to tell the dark truths about my life that may be uncomfortable or just plain hard to talk about. But these are the things that shape us, and I came to understand that everything I have been through has propelled me toward God, and well; He is what it's all about.
Before I go any further, I want to say that I am not against or opposed to adoption at all. I always knew I was adopted, it was never a secret. All adoptees have a unique story that shapes them and as I have connected with them in recent days I have felt a sense of belonging among them who share this unique experience. I also do not hold any animosity against my birth mom for her choice. Life is messy for all of us. This post is not about adoption, I am telling my story because I am compelled to do so. Being relinquished and adopted was just the beginning.
Over the past couple of years, I have almost morphed into a different person, in good and bad ways. It is December of 2020, a year that will go down in the history books remembered for many different things for all people. The year of the great pandemic. The year that God did amazing things. The year of the worst election exercise in American History. I have been spending my days, battling myself. Battling Satan, battling my husband, battling my mind, battling people and my skewed perceptions of them, battling fear, anxiety, and depression, and running out of ways to self medicate. Anyone with me? Deep down I believe God is making the changes, but I don't feel that I am cooperating well, and on the surface, it looks like I am just falling apart. I used to be an emotional stuffer. From about the age of 11, I numbed and self-medicated through sex, and substance abuse. It looks to me like I just could not hold this stuff inside anymore and so I have had to stop hiding my emotions and try to face them. It has been a long and blurry road, a road I am still traveling. Not just facing my emotions but identifying them and unlearning old coping strategies hard wired into my brain, and learning new coping strategies. It's work.
If you're reading this and you can relate in any way, I want you to know you're not alone. First of all God sees you and second, we are built to find one another, to connect, to find hope, strength and encouragement in our stories. Our God stories. This is just the beginning of this one unfolding. So I hope you'll stay tuned...
Be Blessed
-Lisa
