Fix Me

My name was never mine, so I changed it. Not officially, of course, but the version of me that most people met me as, is dead. I guess that's part of my story as well? Parts of me have died off, not all things were by choice.

From the outside, I have been told several times that I look like I have it all figured out. That I seem all put together and whatever I decide to do in the future, I will be so successful.

Looks can very much be deceiving...

I don't know what I am doing half of the time. I act like I know a lot about a lot, but I play a character of a version of myself at all times.

The beauty of being an actor. Only difference is I'm not currently being paid for the role I'm playing.

The real me is terrified of getting it wrong. Terrified that if I let these walls come down, that seeing the real me will somehow be taken terribly and I'm alone again.

To be fair though, it wouldn't be much of a difference than what my reality is now, so maybe showing my face wouldn't be so bad.

Then I am reminded of how I am too much. How I'm not allowed to be weak anymore. How any mess up is disastrous and will end up getting me punished.

It's like I'm a kid again; getting into trouble for doing the wrong thing and being manipulated that I'm a bad person for making a mistake.

The trauma always seems to follow me.

I wish there was a button I could push that would make all the pain go away. No more panic attacks. No more episodes of memories flooding back and me not being able to tell what's real and what's not. No more feeling like a burden to everyone who cares about me or even being treated like one. No more brokenness.

A "Fix-Me" button.

I wish, but wishing won't change the sleepless nights or pains that live with me forever.

So, I look for a guide. Something to at least help me get through this. Anything.

I try these distractions for as long as I can before I can no longer stand them. I try to talk to some professional that tells me all these things I "need" to do in order to get better. I do them consistently and nothing changes, so I get put on a pill. The pill only makes my symptoms worse and adds more problems, so I stop.

I stop.

I just breathe.

I feel.

And in feeling, I hurt. It's real and it hurts.

I don't want to bottle it up and I don't want to pretend I'm okay for the sake of others, but that is the mold I am forced into. Just so they can be okay, not me.

I have found asking for help only gets me so far. There's so much work that I am doing on my own, but no one sees that. I just get accused of not being enough somehow. And maybe by their standards, I'm not.

But no one knows the life I have lived but me.

I get to decide what is enough and what I am doing now, IS ENOUGH.

So, I am building my own "How-To" guide. Because one size does not fit all, and I know what I need in this life.

I don't need to "fix me". I need to be me. I need to find who I am and be okay with who I'm not.

My "fix me" is accepting me.