A High-Performing, Warm and Social but Deep Down Sad as F*ck, Self-Abandoned Person
That’s how I feel.
I’m certain I’ll get better and soon be on the up and up.
But I’ve been going through some shit.
“When do you come back to your home?” my colleague asked, motioning her hands towards her heart as we walked.
“When I have nowhere else to go,” I replied instinctively. “It’s when my friends aren’t available for me or there isn’t anyone around to be with me. I have no other place but to come back to it.”
I knew I was going into some unmarked, unhealed areas. I could feel it.
“What’s it like there?”
I paused. I weighed the pros and cons of answering her question authentically. I could easily make something up or just tell her I didn’t want to talk about this anymore. However I knew she wouldn’t judge me and if anything was the best person to open up to if I wanted.
I imagined myself in my home. I knew exactly what it was like as I’ve been there a lot this year in 2022. “It’s me inside. I’m in fetus position, on the floor. It’s dark. I haven’t furnished anything or turned on the lights…” I’m realizing all these surrounding details as I’m sharing. Why the fuck is it so dark inside my house?
She shared about her house being a happy place and it’s cozy and she said all the right words about what a home really should be. She was right.
What the fuck was going on in my home?
We walked without looking at each other and she went, “you’ve got to make yourself some hot chocolate, decorate for Christmas, bring some light…” and immediately the image of a stove with a kettle and little smoke coming out showed up in my home. I started to cry. I wanted to stop but the tears just kept coming and she hugged me. I felt overwhelmed because in this little home in my heart, I was doing something nice for myself. I was bringing warmth. The idea of it all felt foreign.
I’ve abandoned myself for so long and I felt sorry.
About a week later, I met with Andrew for coffee on a cold Sunday in Brooklyn.
“I’m a fantastic cheerleader. I know how to show up for my friends when they need me and I love doing it. I’m great at it.” I said, almost boasting.
“Okay so what happens when you turn that cheerleader Kaila towards you?”
It caught me so off guard. I felt a warmth when I turned the cheerleader me towards myself. God how I needed someone to be cheering me on these last few months, they’ve been so hard. So this is what it feels like.
I wanted to cry and I held my breath to hold back. But in 2 seconds, the tears began to fall from my eyes.
”Take your time,” Andrew said. And with that, the tears were streaming. It was the 3rd time I cried in public that weekend and I was thankful I wasn’t wearing makeup.
Fucking shit.
I was disappointed about how broken I felt:
Why wasn’t I cheering myself on the way I cheer on others? I thought I loved myself.
Why did I need permission from others about showing my feelings? I would always let someone else show their feelings and never let them feel sorry about it.
Why did I feel so far from my inner child? I loved her so much for what she endured in that abusive childhood home and I haven’t been there for her in a very long time.
Mostly, I feel far from God and I want to come back to Him.
I’ve had some wins in 2022. I moved into a well-lit apartment in the Upper East Side. I got promoted at work. I established a new running route in Central Park. I met some of the most heart warming, hard working people through a tech meetup. I made my Twitter public after years of keeping it private. I hosted work events in-person from August through the rest of this year. The biggest win was flying to California for CMX’s Thrive Conference and being a panelist. The experience of getting mic’d up and walked onto a bright stage was everything to me. That’s where I definitely belong.
It was all these little successes that made me feel like God’s been watching me and having my back. I stopped calling to Him and praying about the good things and the painful things. I sought after and exercised control myself.
I focused on showing up for other people as a potential distraction to not show up for myself.
I ordered out a lot to feel happy about eating delicious foods as a potential distraction to not face the sadness I began to carry.
I went to meetups and dinners to make new friends as a potential distraction to not get closer with the people I’ve met. I got into my head that they don’t think I’m as important to them as I feel like they’ve become to me. So I started to bow out of these relationships before they could hurt me.
There is a lot of inner-work I have to do and now more than ever, I’m looking forward to getting started.
I start therapy next Monday night. In December, I’m committed to finding a community in church again.
Here’s the start of a journey of ACTUALLY loving myself and figuring myself out again.
I’ll keep you posted.