It’s ok; I’m always wrong.

As I continue to navigate this thing called life, one fact that I’ve realized is that I am always wrong. It is wrong of me to think, wrong of me to feel, and wrong of me to dare express myself in my own way. While no one has ever explicitly said this to me, they have implied it by their encounters with me.

Failure to remember that I am neurodivergent or that I often operate from a place of abandonment and anxiety is a failure to truly see me. I’m not saying that I’m irrevocably broken, yet I am saying that I am not one dimensional. I am not flat, nor am I easily understood.

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Communication Failure

Last week, I was talking to my students about effective communication in the workplace. We discussed the communication process and its components – a sender, a filter, a message, a filter, a recipient, and a decoding of the message. Without any of these components, there is a lapse in communication. Similarly, if there is an issue with any part of this process, there will be a lapse in communication.

I feel like my filter is broken.

Whether I am the sender or the recipient, I feel like the filter that stands in between me and the message is broken, allowing either too much or too little penetrating through to the other side. I hate this about me. For as much as other people hate this about me, I need them to know that I hate it more. I hate that at 38 years old, I still operate from a place of scarcity, believing that all I have and all that I know will leave me. I hate that the past, which still has a death grip on me, tells me that I deserve to be alone, so it disables my ability to filter messages correctly. I hate that when others see me, they only see the external, not realizing just how crossed my wires are internally.

Communication has never been easy for me. At 38 years old, I’m just now getting used to advocating for myself and feeling comfortable with telling others how I feel. I love to talk; conversing with others brings me joy! Yet when I feel unheard, I shut down. Actually, some of my best writing occurs when I don’t have the ability to communicate effectively with others. When I feel like no one is listening, I run to my phone,  journal, or computer so that I can pour out the words from my heart. I write because when I do, I’m able to cohesively string together words and [hopefully] clearly express myself. From there, others can choose to engage or not…and as I’ve learned in recent years, many won’t.

But, I’m still struggling. I struggle at understanding social cues, and I don’t readily notice when I have hurt others. I can be abrasive and curt with people, yet it is never my intention to hurt others. Because I don’t always know when I have hurt others, I asked God to reveal the truth to me so that I make amends and heal…

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Heal in Grace

A few weeks ago, My Love asked me about why I always say, “healing happens here”, wondering when the healing stops or starts. I told him that healing is ongoing and that each day that I’m alive is another day that God has given me to heal. Even as I write this, I see the need and desire to heal. Physical pain and brokenness heal at a much faster rate than that of emotional pain. It’s been 30 years since I told my mother my truth, yet sometimes I still feel like that eight year old girl, too broken to move or just live.

For the month of September, I am asking God to continue to heal me. Yet, as with anything asked of God, I have to understand that it may not come easily. I have to prepare myself for the fact that the desired healing may take me through some undesirable moments and force me to face some difficult truths… and feelings. Healing and pain are not mutually exclusive; they are familiar companions that reunite like old lovers, desiring to perform wondrous works.

But what healing is not is a free pass to skirt accountability. Just because I have encountered pain at some point in my life and now live within its lasting effects, does not mean that I get to behave however I want to, disregarding my actions’ impact on others.

That’s irresponsible.
That’s childish.
That’s selfish.

Conversely, healing DOES require both accountability and responsibility. Healing demands that we confront the truths that we have so deeply hidden, address the issues that exist internally and externally, and call ourselves out when the moment necessitates… every single day.

I must admit my fault in the various relationships that surround me. I do get it wrong. I overreact, I internalize way too much, I shut down when I don’t get my way, and I run away when I feel unseen/unheard. I’m imperfect, but that doesn’t mean that I get to blame my issues on my disabilities, diagnoses, and neurodivergence. No, it is because of those truths that I must continue to work on me.

When I spoke to my therapist last week, I told him that I thought I was a bad friend. Because he only knows me in one way, he disagreed with my analysis.  Yet, I think there’s truth to my belief. I want to be a better friend, yet I don’t know how. I feel like I do all the things… yet clearly, I am doing something wrong.

I am wrong if I think that the world must revolve around me and my insecurities.
I am wrong if I continue to isolate myself from others and then wonder how I ended up on an island alone.
I am wrong if I jump to unsubstantiated conclusions that leave others scorned by my fury.

I am better.
I know better.
I must do better.

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I’m grateful for God and how He reveals His heart to me. Thank you for traveling on this healing journey with me. It’s never easy, but it’s always rewarding.

Come on, Beloved, let’s heal together.

Be blessed.