Photo by Aimee Vogelsang on Unsplash
HELP, why is this happening to me? Why am I going in circles? Do I fight through this, or do I succumb to the pain? When does it end? I cannot keep this up. The robust exterior, while internally I am fragmented, is over. I cannot do this anymore. The pretend has worn off, and I can no longer keep up appearances. It is showing up in everything I do. I am attracting more of how I feel than what I want. More brokenness, more hurt, more pain. Everything I touch turns into the state of my being. I didn’t meet my goals; I stop before I start. With every setback, I relived the trauma I experienced ten years ago. It doesn’t matter how big or small; it all hurts the same. I am tired, and I want to be free. Whatever that is, I want to be me. Pieces of me are everywhere. I am shattering more with everyone I find; what will I have left?
These were the thoughts that ran through my mind during those severely depressive states. I did not know how to heal this gut-wrenching pain, so I isolated myself. I packed it all and hid in the darkness. I did not want anyone to see my nakedness; I did not want anyone to hear the sound of my tears hitting the floor, nor did I want to talk about what was bothering me. Shame plagued me, hopelessness enveloped me, and at the time, there was no inclination to seek the help I desperately needed. I fought an internal war that I continued to lose every time I responded in the manner I did.
I felt safest alone, but I was not safe. Psychologically, I was in imminent danger. Hiding in plain sight, I blended with the crowd. The loud sounds masked my screams, and the rain concealed my tears. In childhood, many of us learn to hide and not speak. “Don’t let them see you sweat” is what they said. How do I reveal this hurt and not sweat? “What happens in this house stays in this house” is why many are sick. Their inability to release has clogged them up. “If we don’t talk about it, it will be okay.” “If he is taking care of the home, let that man live.” “Abuse is only physical.” The generational lies have kept us in bondage. These lies have darkened our souls. But who understands this? It was better that I remain alone.
While we assume it is one thing, our emotional wellbeing is causing the spirals in their health.
I began to deal with pain points by acknowledging them, identifying my thought processes, and tracing where it all originated. It could have been something that was said, something that done, or neither. Void of validation, emptiness, and no affection, overwhelmed with feeling like my existence was a problem shaped my life. I internalized these things, and I began to act in ways that would obtain what I wanted. When I had those things I thought I wanted, anything threatening my possession was the onset of emotional disasters. I would reject before experiencing rejection, although rejecting hurt just as much. I began to pay attention to the reoccurring things in my life and how I dealt with them the same each time, only to have them repeat again and again. Finally, I had to stop, take a look in the mirror, face LaToya and tackle this thing head-on.
In the second grade, my grandmother put some of her expensive perfume lotions on me before school. She purchased things I could not pronounce or spell, but I knew they cost more than what the average person spent on such things. She did not buy anything cheap. As happy as I could be to have it on, I went off to school for the day. We all had our heads down during quiet time in class when the assistant teacher started to yell out, “somebody stinks!” She said it so many times I lost count. I kept my head down because I knew it was not me considering I had on the good stuff that day. The teacher began to come around sniffing all of us. When she got to me, she yelled out, “that’s you smelling like that!” I raised my head in disbelief, only to lower it again. I was so embarrassed and ashamed I could not breathe. I laid in my arms in tears wanting to die. I needed the nightmare to be over quickly. She had the other students get in line to sniff me like I was an animal. I was arrested at that moment as I heard everyone else sound off how bad I smelled. They laughed as I drowned. I never shared how much that hurt with anyone until I was in my thirties, but every time I felt embarrassed, I felt like that little girl all over again.
Situations like the one mentioned above are what produce errors in our thinking. I resented that teacher. I did not wear perfume lotion until I was in my thirties. I showered morning, noon, and night, thinking I did not smell good, and I did everything in my power to not put myself in situations that would bring on shame. I was not able to avoid embarrassment, but I was not doing anything to bring it on. I stayed in a safe zone. My comfort zone kept me in bondage. That was a wounded place, and the wound only became worse over time. Anything anyone said, even if they meant well, made me feel like that little girl. That seven-year-old girl showed up in my life for years. That’s who had control until I healed her. She did not trust anyone. As much as she wanted to, she could not. There was no place for her to go. She felt betrayed at home and school. As an adult, she felt it in everything she was a part of eventually.
I was a broken little girl who inflicted hurt I felt. There was no in-between. I was nasty in my responses, or I would shut down and walk entirely away, isolating myself from those who reminded me of my aggressors. I did not have good relationships with women at all. All of them reminded me of an authoritative figure who betrayed me. Different face, same actions. I recall times when I had to speak, and if I cried, people would assume those tears were because of how much I honored the person. In reality, it was the little girl in me crying out for help because at that moment, she wanted to reclaim her voice. She wanted to be free. She recognized the heart of the person I was talking about, and she feared them. As an adult, I tried telling others, but because I spoke like a seven-year-old when trying to explain, no one listened, allowing the treatment to continue. But the moment I walked away, I was told I was not faithful or asked if God told me to leave as if staying in environments that added to trauma was the will of God.
My own experiences allowed me to see how broken people are, and that balm for all was the resolution. Who is willing to help? Who is ready to understand people and their pain points, providing deliverance by educating, acknowledging, accepting, and releasing? I am! Darkness equipped me with tools to help because I had to claw my way out. I was strengthened with the fight to get out and stay out, meeting those I needed along the way. I was not being pushed back down by the divine connections that met me along the way. When the student is ready, the teacher appears. Thanks to technological advances, I found my community, and I am thriving because of them. I am healing daily, operating a business, a published author, student, and healer. I did not give up, and neither should you. Trauma capped my potential long enough, and this does not have to be you. I learned to blame an external devil for what was going on in my life. The greatest enemy is generational lies, the trauma that has not healed, and our lack of self-awareness. The enemy was my subconscious mind. For over 20 years, I stayed in prison an adult who decided to mock me in front of my classmates put me in.
Choose this day to process your emotions and heal. You deserve better. You deserve to be whole—no more fragmentation.
Thanks for reading!
If this reading resonated with you, feel free to share it on your platforms, spreading awareness. Emotional setbacks are real, and they can hinder progress if we are not aware of the origin of our responses to them. I serve as an Emotional Wellness Professional in my practice, so if you have experienced situations that have arrested your development, allow me to help you by scheduling a session with me today.
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