This post speaks to me in so many ways. I recognized myself from the first lines. I often think about "what would a "normal" childhood look like? one where I didn't fear my parents. where I got support and encouragement from my father. Nurturing from my mother. It's odd but sometimes I'll be doing life, at work, out shopping, and I'll have this vague notion like, "I have to go home soon." meaning to my childhood home. Someplace where things will be taken care of for me. I'll have a room, food, and comfort. But it's a place that doesn't exist, it's hypothetical. There is nothing about my real childhood home that I miss. The verbal and physical abuse. The sarcasm, mockery, constant denigration. I was constantly hiding, if not physically, then certainly emotionally and mentally. "That hypervigilence that kept you safe as a teenager is n ow the thing keeping you isolated as an adult." That could not ring more true. And I have NEVER thought about how my medication isn't really addressing all of my issues. I've been on prozac for years, and when I tried to do myself in yet again, they simply increased the dosage. "The water shouldn't be there in the first place." That's the key. But psychiatrists and therapists simply turn to the drugs to make me not be suicidal. "Your nervous system doesn't need medication as much as it needs someone to finally say: Of course you're exhausted." That's it. I am exhausted of reliving in my mind the humiliation and shame, and yes, no one told taught me it was safe to relax. I love the idea of being able to embrace the grief about the childhood I never got to experience, and stop punishing myself at the idea that it was my fault. Thank you Gino. This is yet another post that gives me so much to think about and ideas on how to quit beating myself up over things that were never my fault in the first place.
That sense of longing for a home that never existed is something many of us carry quietly. Your “body kept the score” and it’s still trying to find the safety it never got, which is why exhaustion shows up the way it does. I’m glad the grief framing gave you a different doorway into your story, because none of what you survived was your fault and your nervous system has been doing its best for a very long time.
Right out of the gate, this struck home: “How to exist in a world that required you to minimize yourself to be tolerable.”
—that was my entire childhood through graduation of high school. I’ve always felt like I was robbed of the chance to really blossom, and it definitely took me into adulthood to allow myself to blossom. 💕
Growing up only partially visible is a strange form of theft. But, allowing yourself to flourish later is victory, and your body will notice the difference each time you claim a little more space. Keep blossoming, Leo :)
It's so weird that when you're young and closeted, all you would want is to be out without shame. But when you cross over to the other side, that's when you have the worst of times.
It’s difficult because coming out frees the truth, but the body still holds onto old fears. No one warns us that liberation might feel like a second adolescence, but with higher stakes and no clear guide.
This post speaks to me in so many ways. I recognized myself from the first lines. I often think about "what would a "normal" childhood look like? one where I didn't fear my parents. where I got support and encouragement from my father. Nurturing from my mother. It's odd but sometimes I'll be doing life, at work, out shopping, and I'll have this vague notion like, "I have to go home soon." meaning to my childhood home. Someplace where things will be taken care of for me. I'll have a room, food, and comfort. But it's a place that doesn't exist, it's hypothetical. There is nothing about my real childhood home that I miss. The verbal and physical abuse. The sarcasm, mockery, constant denigration. I was constantly hiding, if not physically, then certainly emotionally and mentally. "That hypervigilence that kept you safe as a teenager is n ow the thing keeping you isolated as an adult." That could not ring more true. And I have NEVER thought about how my medication isn't really addressing all of my issues. I've been on prozac for years, and when I tried to do myself in yet again, they simply increased the dosage. "The water shouldn't be there in the first place." That's the key. But psychiatrists and therapists simply turn to the drugs to make me not be suicidal. "Your nervous system doesn't need medication as much as it needs someone to finally say: Of course you're exhausted." That's it. I am exhausted of reliving in my mind the humiliation and shame, and yes, no one told taught me it was safe to relax. I love the idea of being able to embrace the grief about the childhood I never got to experience, and stop punishing myself at the idea that it was my fault. Thank you Gino. This is yet another post that gives me so much to think about and ideas on how to quit beating myself up over things that were never my fault in the first place.
That sense of longing for a home that never existed is something many of us carry quietly. Your “body kept the score” and it’s still trying to find the safety it never got, which is why exhaustion shows up the way it does. I’m glad the grief framing gave you a different doorway into your story, because none of what you survived was your fault and your nervous system has been doing its best for a very long time.
Thank you Gino. I appreciate you very much!❤️❤️❤️
Right out of the gate, this struck home: “How to exist in a world that required you to minimize yourself to be tolerable.”
—that was my entire childhood through graduation of high school. I’ve always felt like I was robbed of the chance to really blossom, and it definitely took me into adulthood to allow myself to blossom. 💕
Growing up only partially visible is a strange form of theft. But, allowing yourself to flourish later is victory, and your body will notice the difference each time you claim a little more space. Keep blossoming, Leo :)
It's so weird that when you're young and closeted, all you would want is to be out without shame. But when you cross over to the other side, that's when you have the worst of times.
It’s difficult because coming out frees the truth, but the body still holds onto old fears. No one warns us that liberation might feel like a second adolescence, but with higher stakes and no clear guide.
Very enlightening.
Appreciate what you are doing.
True.
I’m glad it landed for you, Leslie. Perhaps this is one clear idea that can loosen something that’s been stuck for years.