What? You Noticed? You Remembered Me?

My trauma as well as many others managing it deal with feelings of not being noticed, heard, cared about, forgotten, invisible… I know cognitively none of those things are true as people’s actions prove otherwise often several times a day. My heart has a hard time. I told a friend recently that they could tell me how much they love me every minute of every day and would still have a hard time believing it. My biggest trauma cognitive distortion is that I’m not someone to be remembered as I have no impact on people or anything special enough to offer anyone to remember me.

It’s a pretty laughable distortion as I get many reminders of my impact on people. I work hard to tell people how they impact me as I know the significance of it when I get told.

I had a lot of reminders of my impact on people today. Multiple ones from surprising sources.

The most surprising one probably came from my old gynecologist. I wrote in a post several weeks ago about how I sobbed through a gynecological exam in early 2018 and how it was no big deal recently.

The gynecologist that I sobbed through my exam with left the practice to start a women’s centered functional medicine practice. I was sad not to see her again as I wanted her to see my changes I had made in so many ways.

Well she started following me on Instagram to my surprise. I’m forgettable, right? I have zero redeeming qualities, right?

I guess wrong as she took my Instagram post that said something like, “smile courtesy of lots of iyengar yoga and lots of fruits and vegetables. My greasy hair courtesy of social distancing. Take care of yourselves”. I added my several hashtags in regards to my diseases as well as my yoga and anti inflammatory diet.

So within minutes, I’m on my gynecologist’s story with the above picture of me with her added information. She also sent me a personal message saying I was truly inspiring.

What? She’s a doctor. I’m a disabled “nothing”. So I went with the wonderful fact that my old gynecologist that I sobbed through my exam over 2 years ago remembered me and used my own story on her functional medicine page business. She remembered.

The crass me who sometimes doesn’t want to be eloquent or insightful keeps telling myself, “forgettable, my a$$” as I’m contradicting old ugly talk in my head that doesn’t necessarily get counteracted with big beautiful words. Instead, my head calls it like it is! It makes me laugh as if you know me in person, I’m not one to swear often unless I use it in irony.

So I know many trauma survivors, or even people in general as we are managing social isolation that feel forgotten. Have you had a moment, no matter how tiny, where you can say in your head, “forgettable my a$$”?

I think my phrase combined with the laughter it brings me is bringing my importance and unforgettable reality from my head to my heart. That’s where the real transformation takes place.

Trauma recovery no matter how new or seasoned you are at it is a lifelong process. Every now and again, something actually clicks. Lucky for me I get huge clicks often lately. Too much pandemic time to think?

Take care of yourself as best you can.

Love

Lizzie

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