The Beginning
I am going to share a little more about what got me interested in writing about our development of this farm. There are a lot of parts to my story, many of which aren’t pretty or simple. You may see the challenges expressed in my tone prior to a short respite taken from writing. The following paragraphs express the internal struggles leading to my time in a behavioral health facility AKA a psych ward. I’d like to preface that the confidentiality of the other patients is kept in mind and any names referenced are replaced by flowers to express how deeply connected I felt to these women and their needs, experiences, trauma, resilience and so much more. I am choosing to start here because this experience has fundamentally changed who I am as a person and how I think of others. I hope these words can open the minds and hearts of others to think differently of mental illnesses.
“Everything all at once? Have you ever felt it? It’s hard to decipher individual emotions when you’re feeling everything all at once. But I guess that’s why I am here… to figure it all out.
In a way, I am angry at myself for not getting to the medication when I knew I needed it. But, on the other hand, I feel hopeful that this experience fills me with everything I need to know about my needs so that I can return to my family as a brighter, more enlightened version of myself.
I have, for many years, discredited my experience in order to defend the better half of others. I am one of those stereotypical martyrs. My value often decided upon by what I had to give as opposed the inherent value of who I am… I have spent time fighting that part of my identity. And I have spent time nurturing it. All in all, I’ve come to find that I come from a long line of very wounded women. Women who received abuse and then dished it to others on a silver platter.
…Because, hurt people hurt people.
Resentment slowly trickles down generation to generation and poisons the roots, rotting the foundation when left unaddressed. Spite takes a bit of sorting, like seeds in the fall. Once all of the underplaying traits are sorted… it’s easier to know where to grow from there.
It was so easy to let it all go unaddressed and to make the motions so that time could move forward without affecting my ability to produce and support. But when I was finally ready to feel again…floods of ugly feelings filled me up and forced a blanket of shame to enrobe my tired and thinned out body. Guilt was fast to follow for not taking the time or attention to deal with the demons I had inside. I am hurt. But I don’t want to hurt the ones I love. My choice is to change.
I am sure there are people here that have stories that are more sad, unusual, or heroic than mine. But I have to be here to show my babies the importance of taking the time to know yourself. To connect with the needs of the heart and soul so they can find immense pleasure and passion in life.
A couple of people have called me brave for coming here. Bravery is a misnomer… I am absolutely filled to the brim with fear. I’m scared to see myself. I am scared to share myself. I am scared to see others. But, you won’t find what you’re looking for in the darkness. You need to shine a light to see, to search, to find.
So, here I am in this room with padded doors and guarded windows to explore the history behind my hurt so that I can better cultivate joy. So that I can sow the sheets of change for my daughters and leave a lasting lineage of love for my sweet girls.”