It’s complicated

Some days are hard.  My mind seems to want to travel to “not enough”, like I am not good enough and my ways are just too much to handle. I talk too much, I think too much and I do too much.

I go for a drive to break the cycle, to drive away- turn the music up loud so I can feel it vibrating through my body.   So I can’t hear my own thoughts. I want to block it; I don’t want to hear what I am telling myself anymore.  This will pass, it always does. 

There was a time I would run on the treadmill, turned the music up as loud as my ears could stand and run as fast as my legs could handle.  Beating myself up in all ways, I would say.  Faster and louder.  A few times a week of doing this and it made me feel better. like a release of negative energy.

Truth is I don’t feel very whole, I feel like a fragmentation, fragments of people I will never meet or know in life. Pieces of my past taken from me without my knowledge, a violation of sorts.

I feel like I have bits of people in me, my parents, bio and adoptive, grandparents, cousins, aunts, uncles and that is who I am made of.  I was brought to a family that I needed to adapt to, not that adapted to me.  I had to figure where my place was and how I should be. 

I had to try to fit in.

So many parts of me don’t feel if they belong anywhere, who do they match? Would this have been different had I remained with my birth family?  I say yes.

I have heard people talk of being a chameleon, changing to conform to current situation.  This was me, sometimes still is.

So who am I now?  Sometimes I am not even sure. Rolling with the situation. Letting others make decisions.  Always busy, no time to be quiet and figure it out. 

This last year, 2020, has given me more time, time to settle down to be quiet, look inward.  Being less broken, sewing together the fragments. one stitch at a time.

Being whole, being enough… but not too much

Thanks, as always for reading

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