frostopia's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 41 I'm 41 today... I started this journal at 15. It's been quite a journey. Reflecting back, I've been through a lot. Most people who meet me now wouldn't know it. I don't appear it, nor do I speak much about the old days anymore. The old days in some way toughened me. The textbooks I read in grad school call this resilience. The people who meet me now tell how amazed they are at who I am now, and I politely smile and act like it's no big deal. And in some ways it's because I'm a psychologist and have worked with those who have gone through so much worse. So I know that the opinions of those who haven't gone through those things think it's something special. And most days I feel fine. Healed even. And really, I'm mentally the best I've ever been. But some days I remember the harder days. I watched the movie The Florida Project recently and that was literally my childhood in Florida before my mom kidnapped me from my dad me and we were homeless. And then she went to prison and I went to foster care. But that's an old story. A true story but an old one, and the 17 years of dissociation and education dull those memories. But some nights like these, I reflect and I remember, and I realize I'm maybe not as ok as I convince myself I am. This pain that occasionally comes to the surface reminds me of who I am or was. I don't like to linger in it, because that's no longer healthy for me, but it does humble me. I don't ever want to become too complacent, comfortable, or ungrateful. Or maybe I just have a hard time being happy for too long. I don't trust that it will last long. I'm always uneasy because part of me is still comfortable in the pain. And then I write these feelings and I feel a little better. I exhaust the pain in these words and realize this was always my true therapy before the textbooks and lectures. This was always my salvation, being honest to no one else but myself and a handful of people who never met me in person. To be honest with your feelings is true freedom. Secrecy keeps the generational trauma. And that's an old story. This diary is testament to my journey. Happy birthday, Karina. 11:09 p.m. - Feb. 10, 2025 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||