Today was one of those days where I felt short-tempered and irritable and emotionally wrung out. I was bitchy at others when I knew that the real source of my agitation was me. Self-doubt and guilt showed up again today; I haven’t seen them in awhile and don’t recall inviting them back, but nonetheless, there they were. I was pissed off about that.

There are people I know who are grieving. People who’ve lost their mothers, or other loved ones, due to illness or age or tragic accident. And here I am, trying to fucking lose mine on purpose.

It’s been one of those days where instead of remembering that the ire, the “how dare you” should be directed outward at those who hurt me, I felt it funneling inward. The “how dare you” has been “how dare I” today. Thoughts of what right do I have to cut out my mother even if she is toxic so what she’s still your mother you made it out alive so it can’t have been so bad really can’t you just be grateful cycled round and round inside my head, until I was so dizzy I barely heard my kid’s voice when she asked me for a cheese sandwich. And then I ended up snapping at her to wait, because on top of already feeling torn apart now I had one more thing I needed to give to someone else and it was too much, the last straw, the one that broke this camel’s back, at least for a moment.

Which only now reminds me that I’ve been meaning to call to get set up for physical therapy for over a week now. I’ve been dealing with some pain that radiates through my neck and down into my left shoulder. My doctor says that I have something of a curve at the top of my spine and into my neck, where it’s going the wrong way – I am literally hunching in on myself. So, that’s fun.

On days like today where I feel very much like a slave to my trauma and pain, rather than master of it…between that and the hunchback-esque situation that I need to get corrected with PT, well, I guess, just call me Quasimodo.

If anybody can point me in the direction of some sanctuary, I am open to suggestions.

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…Okay, but here’s a postscript.

I think one reason I was upset with myself for feeling self-doubt is that, sometimes, I get stuck on this idea that I’m supposed to be the sanctuary for other people who need it. And I do want to be that, if I can. I’ve connected with a lot of people who’ve found my sharing my story and experiences helpful and encouraging. It’s long been my hope that this blog can serve at times as a sort of guidepost for anyone going through trauma, notably trauma induced by narcissistic abuse and toxicity. I then forget on occasion that helping other people in no way means that I’m “over it” or that it’s all behind me.

I can almost hear my therapist repeating this to me, yet again: trauma recovery is non-linear. It looks less like a straight line and a heck of a lot more like a hopelessly tangled knot of string.

Having days of self-doubt inextricably woven in with days where I’m confident in the knowledge that I’ve done what I’ve had to do to protect myself and my family? Totally part of the process. The good news is that, some years out and a whole lot of work in therapy under my belt, the difficult days have become fewer and farther between. Yes, there are some days where I am Quasimodo seeking sanctuary. And a lot of the time, I actually do find sanctuary right here on this blog.

However, there are more days where I am the sanctuary, offering wide open doors to other Quasimodos. That’s a better silver lining to it all than I could ever have hoped for.