Sometimes I think that I seem like i’m living in the past. Then I realise I need to give less of a shit of what people think, and acknowledge what I know.

I’m dealing with the past. And to me, that’s brave not ‘sad’.

I’m addressing things because clarity is not just an awesome Jimmy Eat World album. It’s what i’ve needed.

Some people who go on about the past being in the past, confuse me. They contact me. And not to start a new narrative. No. To be exactly the shitty people I learned they were way back when. So to lecture someone on getting over the past, and hitting them up when you’ve not bettered yourself or taken accountability for your actions isn’t cool. You’re actually the one dragging someone back to the past. Your unchanged ways and attitude, your immoral way of handling yourself. No thank you. Hit me up when you’ve grown, or don’t reach out at all. I’m not about that shit.

Some things from the past i’m only just dealing with. I know the brain represses things to protect you. I am grateful for that. But i’m also resentful. If i’d faced things sooner perhaps i’d be in a better place right now. Not 32 and trying to deal with it all. But perhaps I wasn’t ready back then. Now I have a great relationship with my parents (finally), I have a boyfriend who is the person on this earth who loves me more than anyone ever has. Even if we break up, we’re going to grow old together (if we’re fortunate enough to have the privilege of growing old). I have a best friend (who yes, I once dated when we were 19 and again at 21). Who is family to me. Who is like a son to my parents. And who eventually became a good friend to my boyfriend. I won’t ever see that as anything other than cool. I’ll always be grateful for finding my people. He’s the Haim to my Feldman. The Grey to my Yang.  So if losers want to bang on about it being ‘weird’ by society’s standards that i’m so tight with ‘my ex’, then I feel bad for your closed mindedness. You’re so f*cking lame I don’t know how you dress yourself in the mornings. I’m not into polyamory, but some people are. If that’s how they roll, and no-ones getting hurt and it’s consensual, then hey, peace and love. Do your thang.

So, the past. Oh how I loathe you but oh how I miss you. I miss the very brief point in my life I had an IDGAF attitude. Sure, maybe I seemed like I had an attitude problem ( I didn’t) but I just able to hide my anxiety. My attitude (As grim as it seems) was always ‘Chill out Stacey, you’re not on your death bed’. Unfortunately now that doesn’t work for me as I’ve realised there’s far more to fear than dying. Especially since my mum’s stroke. That really shook me. I miss when I never used to get embarrassed by anything because I just didn’t give a f*ck what people thought. Or maybe I did deep down but I had convinced myself I didn’t. Maybe I was dead inside. But I kind of miss not feeling everything so deeply. I was cynical and probably had resting bitch face (still do to be fair). Shit though isn’t it? How I was depressed, but I found that easier to deal with than what life became.

 

Some things i’m quite certain i’ll never get over from the past. Like that scene from Who Framed Rodger Rabbit where Doctor Doom puts that adorable innocent show in the barrel of acid.  Can we say ‘Scarred for LIFE?!’.

Other things I won’t discuss on here. Because I know some people would comb through everything I write to hold it against me. What I will say is that I value honesty above all else and no f*cking way would I lie. I’m 32 and my biological clock is ticking, so parenthood needs to be something I think about soon. (well, I think about it often but in the sense than I feel like as a woman, i’m running out of time).  To anyone who wants to call me a liar, do you honestly think I would want to spend my pregnancy sat in a courtroom talking about intimate parts of my body? What sort of person would ever want to do that?  Horrific. Not exactly a stress free way to bring a child into the world, is it?

I’ll never get over Scar killing Mufasa. Simba got over it (thanks Rafiki) but I won’t.

Some shit you just don’t get over.

And yes, i’m aware it’s a leap from one part of the past to the f*cking Lion King, but my way of coping is laughing so I try to not let things get too heavy because when it’s bad, it’s  excruciating and debilitating and sucks more than something that really sucks bad but can’t be read into a filth.

 

So the past, I’m getting over you. Or at least learning to cope with the shit cards you dealt me. I can finally say this without feeling like i’m ungrateful (always somewhere out there that had it worse). I can acknowledge it’s been utterly shit and painful and traumatic and not be needing the worlds smallest violin to accompany my ‘self pity’. It’s ok to not be okay. (Jesse J, I feel you girl). It’s ok to admit a lot of shit got to you and you changed because of it.

Maybe if life hadn’t been so grim i’d not have grown to become such a compassionate person. Sure, too compassionate. To the point I can’t detach myself from other people’s misfortunate and my heart hurts for everyone I know of going through shit. But I own my shit. I always see things from an objective point of view, and other’s viewpoints before my own. I can apologise with ease. It’s great. To be able to own your shit and apologise sincerely.  To need to apologise because if you’ve wronged someone you can’t sleep at night until you let that person know that you’re sorry. I love this about myself. I love that I am not too proud or stubborn to admit when I fuck up. I love that I can have a discussion without raising my voice nowadays. I don’t resort to name calling or pathetic attempts at being as spiteful as humanly possible. No way.  You can be a complete ‘see you next tuesday’ but you won’t get me to sink low. Not anymore. I’m above that shit. Taking the high road, because I’ve learned the view is better from up here after all.

I won’t patronise but i’ll keep it real. Call it as I see it. But equally, listen. I’ll listen as long as you allow me to respond. I’ll walk away if you resort to violence and i’m able to walk away.

I was a deeply compassionate child, which I won’t go on about here. But I was also struggling with anger issues and so much shit. I wasn’t always nice. I wasn’t the sweetest of kids. I could be a little bitch if someone hurt me and I waned them to hurt too. Hurt people hurt people. It’s true.

 

But I’m forgiving myself slowly. I know why I would be a bitch at times and in each case I know what lead to me not being able to handle my emotions and lashing out. I just wish I had support as a kid. Or did trust the teachers throughout my education from the age of 5 to 19 to approached me and tried to talk to me confidentially because they could sense something wasn’t right.

 

So, before you roll your eyes at someone who ‘can’t get over the past’, maybe think about yourself. Have you held your self accountable for shit you did or did you just not care and move on concerning yourself with your own life.  Selfless of selfish? Or just ruthless?

Maybe realise some people’s pasts are so dark they it’s thanks to amazing people who are supportive that the person struggling to ‘get over the past’ is even still here, breathing.

Maybe some people can’t push aside the pain. Some people are haunted by memories that just make it difficult to breath.

You can get better. You can learn to get on with your life. But to me, someone who can openly discuss the past without putting their fingers in their ears and go ‘no, I can’t go back there. Stop going on about the past’, to me it’s brave. I am in the present. I’m not living in the past. But i’m finally going far back, self reflecting and getting support for coming to terms with shit.

I’m not about sweeping shit under the rug. That’s not healthy. I’m not about wallowing in self pity. That’s FAR from healthy. But i’m so passionately all for addressing shit and dealing with it, no matter how raw and painful. No matter how terrifying and nauseating. You’ve got to clean the wound before you put on the bandage to be able to heal without an infection. Sure it will most definitely leave a scar in most cases, but I got over my aversion to scars a long time ago. I finally decided I don’t need a fringe my entire life to hid the scar on my forehead. Every new hairdresser is going to ask me about the massive scar around the back of my head. It’s ok. There’s a story there. There’s a story where I healed. In some cases even survived. And that’s pretty cool. Not what happened, but that I came out the other end. Sure some stories won’t ever be told to a hairdresser or a new friend. Some will be kept in the vault because that’s where they belong. Not buried as it is part of your life, it’s relevant and maybe one day you’ll want to access it to help others, but don’t be ashamed enough to bury it. Don’t live in fear of it. Acknowledge it and come to terms with it and finally feel free. You’re in control and that’s a triumph.