Reflections

“We need to look back sometimes and realize the past taught us to appreciate our future.” - Simone Elkeles

I have spent the majority of my life stuck in the past, focused on specific moments.  The moments when I hurt another person or made a mistake that I quickly wished I could undo or had access to things I would do anything to have back again. Most of all, I replayed memories of all that happened to me, which I had no control over, and created versions of myself I never asked for.

I found it impossible to look forward at what my life could be when everything in me was addicted to the perceived “failures” of the past.

It wasn’t until recently that I realized that focusing only on moments disconnects me from what my life actually felt like in the past, especially since so much of my past was an effort by my body and mind to do nothing but feel.

I judged myself for the smile that reflected back at me in the mirror but never acknowledged how many days it felt impossible to get out of bed, let alone practice any level of self-care.

I felt shame for past outbursts where I hurt people that I cared about yet quickly omitted what it felt like each day to do everything I could, from allowing the fire inside of me to seep out or acknowledging how many times I avoided projecting my pain onto others.

I looked back on failed relationships, wondering how I still had not been successful in fully opening my heart to another person, but I never acknowledged what it felt like in my body to even hug another person, let alone be intimate.

I have learned that it is in the memories of shame and guilt that I tell myself a story about not repeating the past. But it is only in the recollection of the felt sensations of my past that I am able to see just how far I have come.  

Years ago, I stood in a crowded bar, trying desperately to stifle the growing terror coursing through my body.  The space was dark and loud, and drunk people kept repeatedly bumping into me from behind.  My attempt to be social and normal turned quickly into my nightmare.  I didn’t have words at that time to be able to express to those I was with what was happening in my body.  In fact, I could barely form words at all.  

As the back of my neck prickled and quickly tightened in a way that was all too familiar, I let out a silent prayer that my body would hold out long enough for me to get away from the world before the inevitable tremors took over.  I followed closely behind a friend as he made his way to the corner and quickly made an excuse to leave at first sight of the door.  

The relief came when I found my way home, locked myself in my dark room, and allowed my body to release everything built up inside as I waited for the shaking to end. 

At that time in my life, I spent every second of every day, consciously and unconsciously, identifying my surroundings for potential threats. I was triggered by seemingly everything, especially physical contact, random loud noises, and crowds where I couldn’t see every person in the room in front of me.  

I was a walking, talking, and violently shaking product of my past.  

But no matter how much terror coursed through my veins and caused me to tremble, my greatest fear was anyone in the outside world noticing.  I had long before decided that the only person who would ever bear witness to my pain would be me.

These days, I am lucky to be surrounded by incredible people with inspiring stories. More often than not, I marvel at how many of them have beaten the odds from the pain of their pasts and are, in many ways, miracles for even still being alive, let alone living the lives that they are so brightly.  

But the most fascinating thing about the people I care most about is that none of them can see the trajectory of how far they have come in the way that is so apparent to me. 

We live in a culture so focused on the next finish line that we are taught that looking backward prohibits us from getting where we need to go. Yet, when we look back at how the past actually felt, it allows us to sink into the awareness that we most need to focus on: the present.

I never thought I would see a day in my life where I didn’t fear a trauma response bubbling over, let alone one where I couldn’t even remember the last time my body shook violently in fear. It didn’t seem possible, yet here we are. 

I need to remember what it felt like to live within my body and not just focus on the moments. When I remember what it felt like inside and around me, I am able to notice how differently I feel today. I haven’t achieved every goal or let every part of myself be seen, but there is a different level of gratitude that comes with reflecting on the felt experiences of our pasts.

The simple thought of “I am so glad I don’t feel that way anymore” can be a victory that previous versions of you never thought possible.

I wish for all those I love to look back and see their journeys from the perspective of what it has been like to witness it from the outside: incredible.

With Love,

Clayton