There have been times--my whole life until the last couple years, really--when I almost wanted some forgotten trauma, some baby-eating cult, to show me that the emotional brokenness I felt was not my fault, had come from outside me, was real
Because it's just hard to accept that people you love and who loved you also traumatized you and gave you a very hanky road map to love and adulthood. It's hard to access your anger at parents who did their best but were also flawed and mean and scared
And by that I mean janky road map but...you get it.
The person who hurt you doesn't have to be a monster for your hurt to be real. Humans hurt humans, humans heal humans. We're all we've got. We're doing our best. We are all flawed and strong and beautiful, all broken survivors. Thank you for being here. Thank you for being you.
