My first spilled thoughts
As I mentioned in the origin story, after I found myself enamored and grounded in the name of this blog, I started a new journal and handwrote what came to me. And I want to share it with you.
On September 1, 2022 at 7:56pm, I wrote:
My healing story is a love story, and, really, so is everyone’s. I love to think about it in this way because it shows how, at the core, there is always love in the belly of humanity: love for ourselves, love for others, love of the Earth, even when it doesn’t seem like it. Even if we feel broken or not enough and in so much pain that we cannot even fathom what joy looks like. It is a collective love story that starts with you.
After my divorce from my abusive ex-husband, the first person, besides him, who I was angry with was my mom. My mother wound felt so deep that I never thought I could heal from it. The wound was deep, the blame was deep, the anger was deep. And so it was—it needed to be. Because healing isn’t a “this is fun!” process AND it comes from a place of love. It came from a place where I loved my mom and wanted her to be proud of me. It came from a place where wanting her to be proud of me was because some part of me…the love part…felt worthy of it. All I wanted as a little girl was to be seen and heard because there was so much love and delight I wanted to share. The denial of this was the wound, the wound that fostered uncertainty, insecurity, anxiety…
This is why your healing story is a love story. Because there is so much love under all the shit things. The conditioning of intergenerational trauma, sexual violence, ableism, the patriarchy, and white supremacy gaslights us into thinking we are some sort of problem to solve instead of a human who IS love. So healing is a returning, not a fixing. Healing is a deconditioning, not a changing. Healing is a becoming, not a wrangling.
Image ID: A photo of the insides of Nisha’s journal. It says in cursive writing “My Healing Story is a Love Story”. A sticker is below this writing. The sticker is of a cat holding a green ball of yarn in its mouth. There is Japanese writing underneath.
Well damn! It feels good to revisit that! TL;DR, there is love underneath all that shit! It’s hard to believe that when we experience systemic, cultural, and relational stress and trauma, and have massive anxiety, dissociation, or a fight or flight response, we can call it love. How can that be love? Well, that’s what this blog is all about, the love within you, the love you seek, and the love that was denied.
You might be wondering, what about the people who harmed me? Harm others? Harm society? I, too, have a hard time saying that Donald Trump and Elon Musk are “love”…I can barely put it in quotes. AND they are human beings who have a lot of shit layered with poopy turd on top of them. It’s not my job, or yours, to learn or understand their love stories. I’m talking about your love story and the love stories you are willing to explore. You get to choose. You get to love within your capacity. That’s the most loving thing to do.
And I promise, this blog will NOT equate abuse with love. Trauma is a RESPONSE, not the event itself. It is not the same as abuse or a traumatic event. It is what our bodies whisper to us, the stories we tell, the beliefs we hold, the dreams we do or don’t have access to.
Thanks for being on this journey with me where we will explore the ways your body is so friggin’ wise and protects you, even if it feels like you’re falling apart and even if it’s so constricting that you don’t know where the love can even find a place to squeeze in.
Stay tuned as more will be revealed, explored, imploded, and hugged. Just like opening a pomegranate, the skin is so hard and the fruit squirts you in the eye and ruins your clothes, but holy shit those seeds are so magnificently beautiful and delicious!
How is this sitting with you? What sensations and feelings are coming up? Let me know in the comments!
ICYMI, here’s what I’m offering in Nishaland!
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