I would say im strong willed and determined – I think I used to be more so though and I also think that, that determined resilience I once had was the lifelong lack of emotional support, the harsh critiques, the blame, terrible support, the constant drilling in that it’s “just life”.
Yet id get very occasional acknowledgement – of how dire my situation was. How unlucky i was to look like me, how no one else would have as much strength as me. No one else was as brave.
But the horror in this when i think about it – the destructiveness of giving me no option but fight, while creating or exagerating the reasons i had to fight. Then what was suppoed to be love and support, being the understanding if i gave in.
Like a blade being slid under the door of someone going mad in an isolated prison cell.
I wonder if my resilience is much less resilience or even fight, and more existence.
My body betrayed me when it got tired. When it turned on high alert for pain and discomfort. When it developed “fybromyalgia”, “chronic fatigue”, “none epileptic seizures” “a horrific collagen deficiency” and fucking bladder urgency!
I feel like such a pussy honesty.
Buttttttt. I have grit and my existence means surviving, surviving means the occasional bursts of fight…. or flight,
and the permission to just exist in between.
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