Diving Deep

By mseddy on July 18, 2024

Yesterday was Wednesday, and even though I had been thinking about writing for days and even drafted a piece, I could not complete the post.

I was experiencing "Writer's Block."

As a teacher of writing, I've seen hundreds of writers face this situation, but I've come to a new understanding about my own block.

The reason I don't write is that I have to block the truth.

It's NOT that I don't have topics to discuss. My mind is so alive; I have thousands of ideas I love to think about and write about. There's so much I'd like to say. I wake up each day and begin by learning about my special interests; I'm reading books, listening to music, watching videos, listening to podcasts, and constantly thinking, "I'd like to write about this subject..."

BUT

I CANNOT WRITE, because if I open the portal, terrible truths will spill out as the cursor glides across the screen.

Most of the time, I can transform the trauma I've suffered into posts about grief, self-care, and the healing process, but sometimes NOT.

Sometimes I have to sit still and listen to the pain.

Sometimes it's not safe to tell the truth.

Sometimes I seek safety in silence.

I'm standing at the intersection of Autism, CPTSD, and Autoimmune Disease, trying to find my way forward.

My Autism looks logically at the situation and tries to make sense of things by asking difficult questions, but Emotional Blindness means that it takes me several YEARS to discover the wounds inflicted by the toxic and violent behaviors of others. When I finally see the truth, it can be both exceedingly painful and a RELIEF, because I understand what has happened to me and the gnawing confusion finally rests. My Autism urges me to blurt out the truth; it argues that if people didn't want their cruel deeds known, they shouldn't have done them. While those who have knowingly harmed me don't deserve my protection, it's also true that if they're still alive, they could launch another attack, so I mustn't speak--for safety's sake.

My CPTSD is a collection of trauma responses, including isolation, self-silencing, and an array of physical symptoms, such as trembling, weakness, migraines, back pain, exhaustion, loss of appetite, depression, despair, etc. Trying to process the pain, I can easily become overwhelmed and shut down. When I feel symptoms rising, I have to focus on self-care.

My Autoimmune Disease, Relapsing Polychondritis, seems to be a system-wide response to decades of toxicity and trauma. When someone harms me, I cannot process my emotions; I freeze--and can stay emotionally frozen for decades, but my body flares. An RP flare-up comes with a long list of symptoms, but mostly, it is crippling pain that makes it impossible to do anything except seek relief. I have come to know that most flares are caused by the confusing cruelty of people I love, and my health depends on turning away from their toxicity.

I am facing painful truths about the toxic traits of people I love.

I am walking away; I am letting go.

Sometimes, my delusional love is so strong, I think that someone who has harmed me couldn't possibly have meant to do so, and I'll try to talk about the relationship with them, try to get them to see me, hear me, and work with me to heal the wound and move forward in a good way.

I can talk about anything. I can take accountability for the harm I've done to others. I can understand the feelings and needs of others and work with them to build a healthy relationship, because that's an important part of what love means to me. I am LOYAL. When I love someone, I will do all I can to make a relationship last. I am always willing to do the work, my own, and for the relationship. I truly see it as a labor of love, and totally worthwhile.

Too often, I've found that trying to talk it out only triggers an attack, and I suddenly find myself the target of a lengthy treatise on "everything I hate about you."

But here's the thing: no loved one has raised a real relationship issue that can be addressed. There isn't anything to discuss as partners engaged in a relationship both parties care to nurture. They don't say what I've done to hurt them; they don't ask for apology or ask me to make amends. What they say, in a variety of ways, is that they feel contempt for me; they hate to see me happy; they want to punish me.

Seeing contempt in the eyes of someone I sincerely love and care for feels absolutely excruciating, but the spell has been broken. Finally, the message has been received, loud and clear.

It has taken a very long time for me to understand and accept this, but I now know it's true: no matter how much I love and care for some folks, they are never going to care for me. They will never apologize for hurting me; they will never engage in the emotional labor to heal the relationship. They do not value me. They are not at all interested in knowing me or being known by me. It's time to move on.

There. I've done it. I removed the block.

I sat in silence; I listened to my pain.

I found my voice. I told the truth.