thoughts about everyday life with complex PTSD from a girl trying to figure shit out: a series
I did some deep thinking over my coffee this morning.
I was in my thirties when I truly understood what a “sense of self” was. I was never nurtured as a child, so my sense of identity and purpose was never developed
I have spent my whole life finding my identity in other people, in the work I do, in the recognition and appreciation I receive for said work.
All because, as an abused child, my emotional needs were never met and therefore I was left to fend with my mind on my own. I was left to determine who I was on my own.
At such a young age, it made sense I used the actions of others as a basis for measuring this part of me.
As I heal, I am learning who I am every day. I am teaching myself, loving myself, and discovering myself.
It’s intimidating – this self-discovery stuff, but it is so amazing too. Finding my path, standing confidently in my authenticity, learning to trust myself, and feeling passion for people and for life is worth all the heavy lifting
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