I spent some time with friends I had first made in school recently. It was utterly wonderful and I had missed them so much – it’s like coming home to a hug, or remembering why you’re human.
These friends know about my blog and have done for years now. They read my words and were there for me during some extremely difficult times in my life. When we were sitting in a cafe, the subject of Elm came up – briefly, but it really made me think. One of my friends (Red, as I used to call him on here) wondered what I would write if I wrote a post now. I had no idea.
I ask myself this question sometimes: who would I be if I weren’t me? I’m in therapy now – regular therapy that actually helps me – and that comes up a lot. Recently, I told my therapist that I didn’t really recognise who I was when I was 14, 16, 18, with who I am now. I’m not really sure that’s true. The more I think about it, the more I start to process that a lot of the things that happened to me when I was younger and the ways in which I was treated weren’t okay and that I have a lot of processing to do. It’s not that I don’t recognise me, it’s that I didn’t know how to recognise that the hurt and unhappy person I once was had the right to feel that way. I still, even now, try to justify what I experienced by saying that ‘I’m a different person now and I don’t have to think about it’.
I read the last post I ever put up on this blog earlier and it made me cry. Sitting in my living room, I almost couldn’t believe that the words bleeding off my screen were really me. My heart started racing: how had I forgotten how hurt I was, how I desperately wanted someone to hear me? And then it truly hit me: I’d never really forgotten. I blanked it out, recontextualising it to cope. I retreated into myself after so many incidents because I didn’t know how to process anything.
Now, when I think about trauma that I have experienced, my first reaction isn’t to run. I’ve done enough work in therapy and by myself that I know it’s okay to feel and I’ve been exploring certain topics, especially things that happened when I was a teenager, that are unbelievably painful but so necessary for me to work through. Forgiving myself for being hurt when someone treated me appallingly is much, much harder than I thought it would be.
In my last post, I mentioned that I was in uni. Looking back at that is utterly bizarre: just over a year later, I dropped out of uni because it didn’t work for me. I spent so long trying to fit myself into a box that didn’t even make sense to me; I thought that if I just tried harder, everything would be okay. It turns out that for years, I had no idea what I truly wanted and who I actually felt comfortable being. I just convinced myself that it was okay to be unhappy all the time, that crying each day was healthy and that falling in love with awful people wasn’t the reason I felt that way.
I look back on my old posts and I want to give younger Elm a hug. When I think about just how bad my mental health was, I wished I’d had words for it sooner: I disassociated without knowing what it was; I was manipulated for years without realising that it was wrong and I had all the symptoms of CPTSD without the vocabulary to articulate it. I was hurt and vulnerable and miserable but most of all? I never gave myself any grace and would constantly belittle myself. Now, I don’t look down on younger me for her reactions and inability to set boundaries for herself: I know that it wasn’t something I knew how to do and that I need to give my younger self some love.
Deconstructing events that happened to me in the past is hard. I’m very lucky that I have a lot of friends who have been here for me for years, who witnessed a lot of things I’ve been through and who can help me piece together the gaps I have in my understanding. It took me years to realise how much damage previous relationships had done to me, and took me even longer still to stop blaming myself. Even now, I catch myself thinking that I was a bad person, or that I deserved it, or that I shouldn’t have expected any better. When I start going down that road, I have strategies that help me come back: when I was younger, I didn’t know how to regulate my emotions or how to forgive myself.
The question of who I am now is not one that I know how to answer, but I can give it a go. I am so much happier, more secure in myself and I find joy in both the everyday and that feeling of excitement when everything feels possible. While my mental health isn’t always great, it’s so much better than it was and I now know how to be kinder to myself. I know that I’m worthy of love both from myself and other people; I’m in a relationship that makes me feel safe and I’m so grateful for it. My friends are wonderful and I’m so, so thankful that they’re in my life, no matter how long or short of a time it’s been since we last spoke. I’m seeing my best friend at the end of the month – someone who has been there for me for what feels like forever – and the fact that I have that (and so many other events) to look forward to fills me with hope.
In short, I’m okay. I have a job that I love; I’m living somewhere that makes me happy and I’m slowly working on myself. I might have a way to go but I’m trying my hardest to give myself the time and the space that I need. Writing this post has made me realise that I’m getting closer and closer to being the person I want, and deserve, to be.
Thanks for reading. To those of you who know me, I appreciate you endlessly and even if we haven’t spoken in years, I think of you and hope that you’re doing well. You all deserve to be happy and I’m sending so much love your way.
So much love!
From Elm 🙂