Things You Don’t Want to Know

I recently saw a post on social media that said: “If you want to write a good book write about what you don’t want people to know about you. And, if you want to write a great book, write about what you don’t want to know about yourself.”  I think that last part can be said abut how we approach knowing ourselves, and being aware of the hardest things that we need to overcome.

I am learning things I don’t want to know about myself all the time. It’s a lot of work to be aware of the things we ignore or compartmentalize. But being aware of those things and finding a way to either let go of them or manage them, is a way to gain peace.  Because, we don’t always realize how heavy what we are ignoring is, and how it can weigh us down.

I started this blog with a story about my not completely normal childhood, and the heart defect I was born with.  The thing that I didn’t know about myself until lots of therapy sessions later, is how angry I am about the surgery in the first place. 

My therapist has told me a few times that trauma isn’t always something that happened to you, but sometimes something that didn’t happen for you.  And, I had both.  And I honestly carry it around like a weight in my chest. I can actually feel it – like a heavy iron ball, just under my upper rib cage. And only in the last couple of years or so am I truly aware of it.  And only in the last year or so have I tried to get rid of it.  That, is much easier said than done and therapy session after therapy session, I resist letting it go even though I really want to.  Trauma is the funniest thing in that regard – it doesn’t serve us to hold on to the heavy balls in our chest, but we carry them around like a stupid dirty, tattered security blanket.

Letting go leaves us to have to learn how to be someone new, to maybe let go of people or places we love, and to leave behind excuses that might be hindering our success.  We might not think we can handle or maybe even deserve success or peace, so we carry that stupid blanket. The blanket can come in so many forms, from controlling personalities or passive aggressive jealousy, to alcoholism and everything in between depending on the person. (And if this speaks to you I highly recommend the book The Mountain is You by Brianna Weist).

I have been hesitant to write this particular post, because I don’t always know what I aim to gain from sharing these stories. I certainly don’t want pity, or attention. And I am acutely aware that many people have experienced much worse than I have.  Though, sometimes when I share details of my childhood and my rural, less than refined upbringing, I am reminded that a lot of people had it quite a lot better than I did too.  Anything shared publicly on the internet can be open to misinterpretation but I am sharing this simply because it is part of my story, and part of the anchor I want to lift. And because I hope even a few people resonate with my stories.

And with relevance to this blog, wouldn’t it be incredible, like a scene from a movie, if the ball I talked about earlier, in my upper rib cage, is one of the things I am able to leave behind in Kenya. Who knows if that will happen.

When I was home recently to bury my mom’s ashes, I took a tote of things from my childhood back to my house here in Lawrencetown. I discovered in that tote so many fun and nostalgic things like my old Cabbage Patch Kid, my glowworm, my little Fraggles, and all sorts of 1980’s gems!  While I was going through my Strawberry Shortcake figurines with delight, and finding fun old posters and cards, I also found a vintage Quality Street tin. When I opened it I found all of my old hospital bracelets, including the bracelet that the hospital staff made for my teddy bear “Cuddles Cashin”, and also the little cards that were on my hospital lunch trays.

Also in that tin was the print out of my ECG pre and post surgery.  It was really jarring. I knew those things were in there and I remember having gone through them before, and not ever wanting to get rid of them. But, it hit different this time around.  It seemed less compartmentalized, which I think is the goal I’ve been working toward.

I also found a coloring book that I received from the hospital. It was a book explaining what it would be like to be in the hospital for a while, along with some drawings to color of what you might expect to see as a patient.  I remember my Rainbow Bright and My Little Pony coloring books, and I bet some of you reading this remember yours. I have to admit, I wish those were the only coloring books I had.  

That hospital coloring book was my first introduction to the outside world when I was 4 years old. And when I read the words in the coloring book now, I cry. I don’t even try not too, because that is the iron ball that needs to be dissolved somehow.  I am really mad that I lost a normal childhood to time spent in the hospital instead.  That I didn’t get a chance to be a Brownie or a Girl Guide, or play a sport and socialize in a fun or competitive environment that a sports team provides.

I am furious about the scar I have.  I can sometimes see my scar as an example of strength and resilience, but question if I frame it that way to cover up the anger. I don’t hide my scar, or really give it much thought to be honest. But, when I really allow myself to think about it; to really think about it and the tiny rib cage that was cracked open under it decades ago - I hate it.   I have a tiny scar on my right hand, from an IV.  I can look down and see it as I type this.  I hate that one too.

These are just some things that I don’t want to know about myself. There are lots more, and I bet some of you can relate to that. But they are things that I need to know about myself. To lift anchor on them.  I used to deal with anxiety or the anger about my childhood with negative reactions to things outside of my control. I wasn’t allowing myself to know the things about myself that caused those reactions, or wasn’t allowing myself to even see those reactions.  I am a flawed-human, as we all are, but the biggest learning I have had in the last decade or so, is that self-awareness is the key to improving your relationship with yourself and with others. And it is really painful and hard to shed a light on the things we don’t want to know, but it is important to know them.

Up until recently I had compartmentalized who I was as a child and who I am now. Boy, is that I skill I have perfected in other areas too.  I could tell the story of my surgery or my childhood, but looking back it was not always that I was telling a story I even knew very well. I hadn’t really ever allowed myself to know the story. I am trying to get to know and feel the story now.  It is serving me – in the way that medicine tastes really bad but makes you feel better in the end.

What are some things that you don’t want to know about yourself?

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