It’s Not Your Fault
I started having flashbacks again.
I’m not sure what triggered it this time. They seem to resurface about once a year, usually when I’m in a good place personally.
I don’t mind anymore. It’s almost as though my body’s saying, “Hey, you’re ready to deal with another piece of this.”
The flashbacks fill in part of a story I’ve been unable remember, or perhaps more accurately, part of a story I’ve buried. Buried until I had the capacity to deal with it.
The flashbacks hurt but they give me answers. They help me see where my fears are rooted so I can challenge them. They help me see that those aren’t my fears at all, actually. They’re someone else’s. The flashbacks help me see that what happened to me has nothing to do with me and that it was someone projecting their fear onto me.
So why am I carrying around that fear as though it’s my own?
Remembering is hard—there’s anger, sadness, and one hell of a pity-party—but I’m thankful for it because it gives me the opportunity to face it and move on. It knocks you on your ass but when you get up… Freedom, Man. And it feels so good.
Freedom in acknowledging the words, “It’s not your fault.”
Wandering Dundas West in Toronto yesterday. Two coffees in and happy as a clam.