Now Who Am I?
Why, hello, blogosphere! It's been a long time since I've written.
Quite frankly, there's a lot to catch up on. Since I last wrote, I've moved to Utah, started a business, and branched out in other ways, too. Probably the last idea is the most significant, but hardest to describe in short.
Let me first explain why I moved to Utah... seemingly against my own will (at times). I knew I had a choice - I could go back to work full-time or part-time while trying to start a business in Denver in order to maintain a living - or I could move with my mom and take things a little slower. Initially, the latter didn't seem very appealing. After all, I'm 25 with quite the independent streak (to say the least). Despite my apprehension, I decided to visit my brother in Herriman (southwest of Salt Lake City) for a few weeks to see how I felt about the whole thing.
You see, for me, it's less about the pragmatic elements - will I have a job, do I like the wards, etc. I think those things find their way to fit in no matter the circumstance. My initial concerns were about feeling right about living in Utah. Much to my chagrin, my visit felt really good. Though I was apprehensive to give up what I had in Colorado, I couldn't help but feel that the move was right.
Fast forward a few months (and definitely skip a good portion of packing tape and sharpies and cardboard - going through it once is enough without having to talk about it again). Things seemed to be falling into place for me in South Jordan, Utah. What a strange thing it was. Utah comes with an amazing gift for me - so much family. I get to spend time with aunts and uncles and cousins and their kids and every person even tangentially related to the Wittwer (my mother's maiden name) bloodline. I didn't expect to feel such love and sense of home with them, after all, I never grew up here, I didn't know their stories and experiences much. Still, for that reason, I won't take the gift for granted.
I also started a yoga LLC in Utah - that's all still in the works and going quite well, I might add.
But, I digress from my goal in writing today. What happened after my initial surprise, my initial reaction that breathed a heavy sigh of relief and said, "Oh! I really am going to be okay!" is the point of this post.
I came across something strange and scary and wonderful.
Myself.
Things were okay, and I was feeling like I'd be able to get it together, despite all the struggles and frustrations and obstacles of my life. But when I looked in the mirror, I was running across the same old problem. I knew what I wanted to be; I could see my success in the future, but I couldn't quite put a finger on the steps to get there.
Same old problem, really. So there are some things I do know:
I've been much happier here, removed from the haunts of my traumatic teen and young adult years.
I want to do work for people who are like me, or who have been through similar things.
I'm an ardent advocate of kindness. I'm a disciple.
I've had a chance to reset my friend meter and grow a new community.
I've even changed my name, so to speak, to connect with my Indian ancestry - I'm going by the non- anglicized Sarita.
Still... I could never come up with such a simple explanation of myself that it would fit in a few lines... and I wouldn't want to be limited to those few lines. I wonder sometimes how other people perceive themselves. (And I guess I'm willing to admit that most people probably don't think about it nearly as much as I do.)
I've spoken, written, laboriously quoted and probably prodded about it before, but I love, and I do mean love the work of Brene Brown. I started reading her other books recently in an effort to be more conscientious about self analysis and awareness. My intense desire for emotional understanding may confuse the people around me, but I find her work so compelling for two reasons: 1) I struggle to access my emotions the way I used to, before trauma, and reading and working it out and working hard at it are the only techniques I know that will get me to a place where I trust my feelings, and 2) I realize it's the compassion that many others credited with my trauma that actually allowed my to survive trauma.
In I Thought It Was Just Me, Brown describes how our relationship with empathy and compassion are quite the same, whether directed at others or ourselves. I've often wondered how I've been able to endure so much. People often ask me, and I'm really not sure so I often reply, "I didn't have a choice." As of late, I've come to realize that I always had a choice. There were a lot of other choices I could have made. I could have been much more cruel to myself and others, but somehow I'm here and I'm surviving. So, perhaps my compassion made me a target for manipulation, but I know it was also my ticket to recovery and healing.
I had an experience last night where someone was trying to get to know me. After some hours of conversation, he said something enlightening. He posed the idea that my observations about myself were correct, but at the same time, there were things about myself that I wasn't perceiving. I paused a moment and concluded (and replied) that, 'That's the nature of humankind, isn't it?' We're just doing the best we can with the best knowledge that we have, knowing it's imperfect and waiting for more knowledge to come along. I also pointed out that there are a lot of dormant spiritual forces within us that we're relearning and remembering. It is in quiet that we tap into that power.
Human identity is a process, not a single experience or sense of knowledge. Whether or not we care to admit it is our business, but I think it helps to say it out loud where we can all hear it - where we can all talk about it together. That's why I'm continuing to talk about the things that I talk about.
When I decided to share my story, I had no idea what kind of impact I would make (nor do I really know much about it now, but I'm grateful to those of you who read, who support me and who have let me know you're near me in spirit or otherwise). However, I did know that I would eventually have children, and that I didn't want to try to censor my story for them or protect them from what their mother experienced.
I want to give them tools to understand and grow. I want to be an example of love and forgiveness, not just for others but for ourselves. And I want to create a place where we can all talk about our experiences - a place that doesn't denigrate our need or want of help and support and kindness. I want my kids to grow up in a community. I want them to be surrounded by intelligent, thoughtful, loving, Christlike people. I want them to learn from people who are better than me in some areas and worse in others, and love them all the same.
I want them to connect, but not just in times of sadness and grief, after trauma and difficulty. I'm striving to create community here because connection is so important, and sometimes, as a writer and an editor and a person with PTSD and complex trauma, I need to sit down and type out my story because it doesn't come so eloquently out of my mouth. I'd love if I allowed other people that opportunity, too.
So while I'm looking in the mirror, wondering who the lady in the glass is, I hope you'll continue to join me in my introspection, relating and storytelling. I hope it helps you. I hope it makes you think, and grow, and maybe laugh and smile. Please keep following my journey. I'll keep you appraised of all my efforts, but let it suffice to say - I think big things are coming!
Love and Admiration,
Sarita
Quite frankly, there's a lot to catch up on. Since I last wrote, I've moved to Utah, started a business, and branched out in other ways, too. Probably the last idea is the most significant, but hardest to describe in short.
Let me first explain why I moved to Utah... seemingly against my own will (at times). I knew I had a choice - I could go back to work full-time or part-time while trying to start a business in Denver in order to maintain a living - or I could move with my mom and take things a little slower. Initially, the latter didn't seem very appealing. After all, I'm 25 with quite the independent streak (to say the least). Despite my apprehension, I decided to visit my brother in Herriman (southwest of Salt Lake City) for a few weeks to see how I felt about the whole thing.
You see, for me, it's less about the pragmatic elements - will I have a job, do I like the wards, etc. I think those things find their way to fit in no matter the circumstance. My initial concerns were about feeling right about living in Utah. Much to my chagrin, my visit felt really good. Though I was apprehensive to give up what I had in Colorado, I couldn't help but feel that the move was right.
Fast forward a few months (and definitely skip a good portion of packing tape and sharpies and cardboard - going through it once is enough without having to talk about it again). Things seemed to be falling into place for me in South Jordan, Utah. What a strange thing it was. Utah comes with an amazing gift for me - so much family. I get to spend time with aunts and uncles and cousins and their kids and every person even tangentially related to the Wittwer (my mother's maiden name) bloodline. I didn't expect to feel such love and sense of home with them, after all, I never grew up here, I didn't know their stories and experiences much. Still, for that reason, I won't take the gift for granted.
I also started a yoga LLC in Utah - that's all still in the works and going quite well, I might add.
But, I digress from my goal in writing today. What happened after my initial surprise, my initial reaction that breathed a heavy sigh of relief and said, "Oh! I really am going to be okay!" is the point of this post.
I came across something strange and scary and wonderful.
Myself.
Things were okay, and I was feeling like I'd be able to get it together, despite all the struggles and frustrations and obstacles of my life. But when I looked in the mirror, I was running across the same old problem. I knew what I wanted to be; I could see my success in the future, but I couldn't quite put a finger on the steps to get there.
Same old problem, really. So there are some things I do know:
I've been much happier here, removed from the haunts of my traumatic teen and young adult years.
I want to do work for people who are like me, or who have been through similar things.
I'm an ardent advocate of kindness. I'm a disciple.
I've had a chance to reset my friend meter and grow a new community.
I've even changed my name, so to speak, to connect with my Indian ancestry - I'm going by the non- anglicized Sarita.
Still... I could never come up with such a simple explanation of myself that it would fit in a few lines... and I wouldn't want to be limited to those few lines. I wonder sometimes how other people perceive themselves. (And I guess I'm willing to admit that most people probably don't think about it nearly as much as I do.)
I've spoken, written, laboriously quoted and probably prodded about it before, but I love, and I do mean love the work of Brene Brown. I started reading her other books recently in an effort to be more conscientious about self analysis and awareness. My intense desire for emotional understanding may confuse the people around me, but I find her work so compelling for two reasons: 1) I struggle to access my emotions the way I used to, before trauma, and reading and working it out and working hard at it are the only techniques I know that will get me to a place where I trust my feelings, and 2) I realize it's the compassion that many others credited with my trauma that actually allowed my to survive trauma.
In I Thought It Was Just Me, Brown describes how our relationship with empathy and compassion are quite the same, whether directed at others or ourselves. I've often wondered how I've been able to endure so much. People often ask me, and I'm really not sure so I often reply, "I didn't have a choice." As of late, I've come to realize that I always had a choice. There were a lot of other choices I could have made. I could have been much more cruel to myself and others, but somehow I'm here and I'm surviving. So, perhaps my compassion made me a target for manipulation, but I know it was also my ticket to recovery and healing.
I had an experience last night where someone was trying to get to know me. After some hours of conversation, he said something enlightening. He posed the idea that my observations about myself were correct, but at the same time, there were things about myself that I wasn't perceiving. I paused a moment and concluded (and replied) that, 'That's the nature of humankind, isn't it?' We're just doing the best we can with the best knowledge that we have, knowing it's imperfect and waiting for more knowledge to come along. I also pointed out that there are a lot of dormant spiritual forces within us that we're relearning and remembering. It is in quiet that we tap into that power.
Human identity is a process, not a single experience or sense of knowledge. Whether or not we care to admit it is our business, but I think it helps to say it out loud where we can all hear it - where we can all talk about it together. That's why I'm continuing to talk about the things that I talk about.
When I decided to share my story, I had no idea what kind of impact I would make (nor do I really know much about it now, but I'm grateful to those of you who read, who support me and who have let me know you're near me in spirit or otherwise). However, I did know that I would eventually have children, and that I didn't want to try to censor my story for them or protect them from what their mother experienced.
I want to give them tools to understand and grow. I want to be an example of love and forgiveness, not just for others but for ourselves. And I want to create a place where we can all talk about our experiences - a place that doesn't denigrate our need or want of help and support and kindness. I want my kids to grow up in a community. I want them to be surrounded by intelligent, thoughtful, loving, Christlike people. I want them to learn from people who are better than me in some areas and worse in others, and love them all the same.
I want them to connect, but not just in times of sadness and grief, after trauma and difficulty. I'm striving to create community here because connection is so important, and sometimes, as a writer and an editor and a person with PTSD and complex trauma, I need to sit down and type out my story because it doesn't come so eloquently out of my mouth. I'd love if I allowed other people that opportunity, too.
So while I'm looking in the mirror, wondering who the lady in the glass is, I hope you'll continue to join me in my introspection, relating and storytelling. I hope it helps you. I hope it makes you think, and grow, and maybe laugh and smile. Please keep following my journey. I'll keep you appraised of all my efforts, but let it suffice to say - I think big things are coming!
Love and Admiration,
Sarita
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