Flying Littles

I adore my Little’s imagination. All of them were enjoying some play time in the living room yesterday and I had some random music shuffling on Spotify. One song in particular came on and Little really loved it, so we put it on repeat for a while. She said it made her feel like she could fly, so she dashed off to her room and grabbed two peices of cardstock from her art box using it as wings to fly around the room until she wore herself out. 

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=fC2enIqaJmA# 

That’s the song we found, and after I got all the kids fed and ready for bed I went back to it. It really does just have something about it that makes you feel like you’re soaring above the clouds, ten miles high. Maybe it’s the strings, or the build up to it, I’m not sure. I’d never heard it before but apparently it’s been used in a game and the promos for a few movies. The entire album actually has that kind of soaring, vibe to it.

Being on the high end of the empathetic spectrum I listened to the entire thing, and it was just what I needed as a catalyst for the repressed emotions that have been giving me problems recently. I sat there bawling in the middle of the living room with my headphones in, but now I feel much better. 

The memories that have surfaced recently (which I talked about here, and here) don’t actually have anything to do with my ex or the fact that he may/may not be Scrawny Stoner Kid. Yes he’s there if merely by the association that he created when we were dating, but the root issue is the beginning of my second awakening. I’ve gotten to the point in my recovery where it’s time to put my most recent trauma aside, and start addressing my childhood. 

The memory I have of being addressed while playing in the leaves, and subsequently the conflict in the park is a bridge memory, where my childhood trauma and most recent trauma meet. That’s why it’s been stuck on repeat in my head. It’s all about the transition from one leg of the journey to the next. I’ve been resisting it, HARDCORE, for the past two months. 

Even my therapist is like: “no… you’re going the wrong way there. You need to come back and look at these issues from your childhood.”

And I’m flailing about trying to find every other excuse I possibly can because my childhood sucks. It’s been quite firmly repressed underneath my other more recent trauma, and I’d gotten used to it that way. Finally ripping that bandaid off with some formal closure for my recent trauma this past summer exposed all of my other still bleeding childhood wounds, and now I have nothing left to hide behind. 

Which is awesome on the one hand that I’ve finally, and completely moved past that part of my life and hurdle to my complete healing. But OMG DOES IT HURT leaving everything else exposed the way it did. 

The biggest emotion that I’ve finally tuned into here after my revelation has been unaddressed grief after my grandpa passed away. That explains a lot of my struggles over the past two months. My first heart arrhythmia happened the week of his birthday (October 16th) and my second one happened at a concert which is where I was when I got the phone call that he was in his final hours and we had to rush home (November 13th). 

I knew it was weird that I’d never cried at his funeral or after his death, (me mega emotional everything all the time) but it all happened three years before my diagnosis and it honestly never occurred to me that the emotions might be repressed. I just thought that I sort of skipped over it all together because he was a Believer who dedicated his life to his faith in Christ, and per the faith he was entitled to a spot in Heaven. There really wasn’t any need to grieve for him, knowing that he was in a better place. No one really thought it was weird that I wasn’t more upset. 

I do remember taking Hubs up to Dayton and driving by their old house while I was shopping for something to wear to the funeral. That was kind of a double whammy trip because it was also the first time I’d returned to Dayton since leaving Ohio. I felt everything  for the first time sitting in front of that house. All of the pain I’d been trying so hard to bury and remove from my conscious mind since escaping from my mother’s abuse, on top of the pain I had repressed by running away to Indiana, ON TOP OF losing my grandpa, the first relative I’d actually been close to in death and not once did I shed a tear which is what I so desperately needed to do.

It seems so obvious now after finally figuring out what’s wrong with my brain. I mean that in the literal sense of the word by the way. My mind functions just fine, it’s the physical brain altering chemicals responsible for emotions that gets me in trouble. If only I could feel feels when things actually happened and not five years after the fact; that would save me a whole lot of explaining and a whole lot on hospital bills. 

One thought on “Flying Littles

Comments are closed.