Finding the words

Maybe this blog should have been called I Speak Because I Have To.

I know that talking is an essential part of healing, it's just that sometimes it's so very hard to find the words.

It is much easier to just get on with living.  

This sounds great, in theory, it's just that I know there's still so much unsaid, so much I find on the tip of my tongue every day.  I've tried getting on with it, deciding there is no more to say, and living life as I find it, but sadly that seems to just end in turning the past back on myself, revisiting the old friends of self-hate and self-harm.  When I stop talking everything starts twisting and magnifying.

It doesn't matter that I am pretty well recovered when it comes to behaviours, my head is still a long way behind, and it frustrates me that I can do so much only to be caught round the neck by emotional baggage and negative thoughts.  I am reaching the point of fury over how much time and opportunity I have thrown away to this crap, I'm bloody twenty-five, and still feel like an eight year old most of the time.  

And it's so hard to find words when most of the ones you'd like to use are connected with hurt and anger and passivity and lack of worth.  I am learning to be me, to be ok with me, and I'm learning the language of empowerment, but in order to heal I have to revisit old feelings that still hang on to me in my current really rather charmed life.  It's maddening, because I have come so far, I cannot change the past, and yet I still haven't grieved for the now-dead man to whom I first gave my heart, I still haven't voiced the deep and bitter anger that I have towards my mother and her illness.  If I can't speak these things,  I can't let go, and yet I need to look forward, speak as the woman I want to be.  

It's hard.  But if I keep talking, I can keep learning to live properly, as a whole person, as someone whose experiences shape not damage.  I hope I can do this.