Sometimes it is a daily battle of simultaneously denying and processing trauma in my body and mind.
I went for a run this evening and the body memories started. I had to breathe through it, tell myself I was okay, but the feelings of disgust just wriggled through my body. I wanted to stop and crawl into a ball and shiver and shake, but I was in public so I just ran and then walked for a bit and then ran. It kind of passed when I got home or I just suitably distracted myself. Work helps like that. Sometimes I don’t know what I would do without it, but lately it has been causing me such stress. I recognise I am part of a massive institution of systemic power that ultimately quashes your soul. I believe in the values and principles of a University, I just don’t believe in “it” as a system of power or structure of truth and integrity. Not that I expected it to be I guess, but perhaps there was some delusional thinking there.
We are all over worked in this pandemic. Forced to adapt and be agile and change plans every two weeks almost. Be compliant, be innovative, be student centric, don’t come back, come back now, teach better, faster, smarter, less, more. It’s almost done my head in. Toxic leadership working all hours, no boundaries, no context, no analysis or too much analysis! Aagh.
I need a break. It’s coming. One week to go.
I met a colleague today who is a fellow Christian and it was so good to talk to her and every conversation went back to God and it just felt so refreshing and invigorating. We prayed at the end and she filled me with the spirit again. I just wanted to cry and cry and cry. Lord, where are you. You are right there, I sense you. But to sit with you is so excruciating because it means I have to feel me, feel my body and it is painful. I want to collapse. I feel you there respecting my boundaries, my parts that are angry at you, and I don’t know why you stick around, but of course I do. And I hate the way you love me because I don’t think I deserve it. That’s the truth. I feel unworthy. And I know you are waiting patiently for me to believe you and I don’t know why it is taking me so long to be convinced. In my heart I know, I am just disconnected from the truth. I am stuck in a sorrowful Psalm. Anguished, deep sighs of misery, shame oozing from my pores. And yet you love me. You truly love me and I don’t get it. Why? How could I ever imagine you accepting me, how could I ever imagine accepting myself?
I’ve been experiencing a lot of body dysmorphia recently. I feel so ugly and too big/ athletic and my hair is so gross. I can’t get a grip on who I am. Seeing myself on zoom all day is hard and triggers great discomfort in me. I feel old and embarrassed to be in my skin. I think I am going to be crawling to therapy on Thursday.