We all have an innate need to feel like we belong. For someone who does a decent job with meeting and speaking to new people, would it surprise you how often I don’t feel like I fully belong? That I don’t know where or how I fit? Set apart because I’m a widow, or younger (or perhaps older) than everyone around me, or because I’m a single (solo) mom, or because of my religious beliefs, or political leanings, or, or, or… you get the idea. Don’t we all feel that way sometimes? That’s a different sort of loneliness than simply being by yourself.
After having recently attended quite a few widow/widower and single adult activities (two separate conferences in two weeks, phew!), I have come to consider myself as a sort of social zombie (my sister could not stop laughing at that mental image when I first coined this phrase in a Marco Polo message to her). No, I don’t mean that I endlessly shuffle around moaning with a glazed look on my face. (Well, I hope not.) But I do quite literally “feed off of” the people around me when I’m there with a big crowd. And it can sometimes seem like an insatiable hunger, adult interactions feeling like as much of a need for me as sleeping is. There are a few caveats to that, though. I’ve found I need to be with at least one person whom I already know, and I need to have the opportunity to actually interact with a lot of people (merely sitting as one in a crowd doesn’t charge me in the same way). This sounds a little silly to say out loud, but I sort of “collect” friends and new acquaintances when I’m at functions like that, and I love introducing new friends to old friends and then observe them getting along with one another. I really do love people! (I know, I may have mentioned that once or twice, or over and over and over on this blog…)
Despite having those opportunities for adult interaction, however, this has been an absolutely brutal last week for me in the emotions department. I’ve found myself being triggered by all sorts of things, of having unexpected reactions when I typically I wouldn’t have felt so threatened (the very definition of a trauma trigger, feeling unsafe and then knee-jerk reacting from fear). I have not felt at all in control of my emotions. There’s been a perfect storm of circumstances and occurrences that have contributed to that, but it wasn’t until this morning that I really put together the fact that I have now officially started in to my two month period where every single day leading up to March 24th had extreme trauma associated with it.
This year is not the same as last year. It’s not. The monumental effort I put in to healing and dealing with and working through PTSD did make a difference. August 2022 through now had some hard moments, and some new grief triggers, but it wasn’t as brutal as reliving things were with those first anniversaries. The majority of the time I haven’t really thought about them, although a few have snuck up on me. But as I am now once again here at the “worst part” that last year was relentlessly awful for two solid months, I also don’t have the same sorts of supports (or distractions even?) in my life now that I had a year ago. It scares me so much to think of needing to experience even a part of that again. I find myself wanting to retreat away, to numb those feelings rather than allowing or even embracing them. Looks like that determination of mine to engage in 2023 was an apt choice.
Engaging to me means more than simply getting up and doing. It means being present, which is exactly the opposite of trauma triggers. Engaging is closely tied to the concept of connecting. Connection really is the opposite of despair, or shame. And feeling truly connected is difficult if I’m living in fear because of things from the past.
Except. Except, except, except. I’m not the same person I was two, or even one, years ago. I do know how to question and reframe my thought processes. I do know that full healing is possible through the Atonement of Jesus Christ. I do know that I can notice, but not become sucked into or be stuck by the reactions my brain and body are sometimes having. I can be gentle with myself. I can be grateful in the moment even if I’m not immediately grateful for the moment. It’s not necessarily a bad thing that I feel emotions deeply, those high highs and even those low lows. In fact, I had a friend just tell me yesterday that even if it is hard to feel deeply, they did consider that to be an actual gift of mine. That’s given me something to think about, considering how that could be, or has been, true in my life.
Plus I don’t want to only be “feeding off of” people. That sounds so selfish! I want to be lifting others up. I’ve been pondering a lot lately how my behaviors and choices influence those around me. Am I bringing out the good in others? Probably one of the best compliments I have ever received was when a friend said that being around me made them a better person, more able to see and reach their own potential. That interacting with me “makes being good easier.” That. That’s how I want to affect the people I interact with on a daily basis. I think I have that potential to, even with my brokenness and pain and yes, sometimes fear. Because isn’t that what it means to share the light of Christ?
I see someone else I know. Wendy Truman. Met her when she lived in TN and was in my sister’s ward. Back row on the left♥️
You do build others up. This is just a hard time of year and might still be for a few years going forward but you do seem like in a much healthier place. You are wonderful.
You are loved. I think some of your feelings are definetly shared by others. I can be in a crowd of people and feel lonely and wonder just what I am doing there. Feeling that one belongs is a safety net for all of us.