The first Christmas after my parents separated was kind of devastating. I was still spoiled with gifts, but that didn’t help me feel any better. I can remember sitting on my grandma’s couch and listening to my dad’s family explain how they really loved that I liked my new presents, but these were toys just for dad’s house. I sat silently, staring out the frosted living room window wishing that this day could be over, that things hadn’t changed, and that I could just please be with my mom. Don't get me wrong. I love my dad's family so much, and I'd give anything to have another Christmas with my dad, but so much had changed so quickly. I wanted everyone together so badly.
I don’t handle change very well, and I never really have, especially if that uncertainty is sudden and unexpected. I am confident that this is rooted in childhood trauma. While I do feel like I have seen a lot of growth in myself in this area, sometimes it catches up with me.
This week there was a moment when it felt like a lot might be changing really dramatically and very suddenly. My trauma triggers weren’t big fans of this. I have this specific PTSD response where my eyes just go wide, and I basically dissociate. I get so lost in thought that I become still and intently stare into space for long periods of time. This week my boss/lead pastor walked in on one of these moments. I was just sitting on the couch in my office for who knows how long staring at a TV that wasn’t playing anything. It was at that moment that I thought, “Oh. You’re feeling some stuff hard right now.”
My mom first noticed this response when I was very very little. As the story goes, we were at a parade, and as soon as the sirens of the emergency vehicles flared and the horns screeched, my eyes went wide, my body froze, and I stopped breathing. Parenting me must have been a lot of work. Kudos to my superhero mom.
Now, I think only really rare, really odd people actually like change. There are a few people very close to me that love it. I think they’re weird, and they know that. I think they are in the minority and that change is hard for most people. Change in routine, environment, circumstances, or relationships can be really challenging. For me, that discomfort is magnified by the fight or flight response ingrained in my brain.
Growing up, there were not many things that remained stable in my life. People kept dying around me and leaving. It was seared into my mind that change does happen in life, and it’s never good. In fact, most times when major change happened I had to fight for my emotional, mental, and sometimes physical survival. That happened enough times, that the narrative in my head became, “When change happens, bad things happen. You need to run or shut down.” It became my brain and body's way of protecting itself.
Please don’t miss this. My mental health is not an excuse. It’s my responsibility. I know I struggle with sudden change, but I am actively working on handling it better.
It’s not helpful to shame myself for creating what is a really rational coping mechanism. It’s just not always a healthy one. I own that. I understand why my initial reaction to sudden change exists, but it really sucks when that response impedes my daily life and hurts my important relationships.
So that’s why I’m always working.
I stared into space a lot this week, and sometimes I just let myself do that because I knew I needed the space to feel and think. I prayed for the longest stretch of time that I had in a while. I cried and felt sick to my stomach. Most of those things didn’t feel good, but I guess I will always appreciate a moment to reflect on who I am, why I act certain ways, and why I think what I think. Getting to know myself has been a real journey these last 26 years. Learning to love her and appreciate her, despite her flaws and mistakes and things I don’t like has been an even bumpier journey.
But it’s an important one, and I am going to keep working on myself. I’m not waiting for the New Year. I’m not giving up come the second week of January. In order to love others as best as I can, this will be a lifelong journey, one that can begin today for you too, if you’re ready.
I see you. I believe in you. Please take time to rest over the holidays. I write that just as much for myself as I do for you.
You are truly and deeply loved.
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