In My Own Words, Lifestyle

I Have Been Self Censoring

Right after college, I started writing a lot about my experiences as a rape survivor. After a while, I started being inundated with messages from people—strangers, friends, and family alike—asking questions or just letting me know how much my stories helped them through their own recovery. Once I was able to accept I had been in a sexually, domestically, psychologically, and financially abusive relationship, I started talking. I did a whole lot of reading, researching, and listening too. But I started talking. I talked to friends, I talked to strangers who had their own stories, I got up and spoke in front of groups, I lectured at a university, I performed slam poetry, and I wrote. It was a part of me, and a part I was not going to hide. 

Except I have been doing just that. Hiding. Not necessarily on purpose. It’s been pretty inadvertent. A byproduct of my life, relationships, working, and the world at large. I’ve had a hard time writing. I can blame a lot of it on the pandemic, a lack of motivation, wanting a break from reliving those painful memories, and/or a surge in depression and anxiety. Although, that would only be a half truth. 

Living is choosing pain.

I have been censoring myself. 

Censorship is something I really do not like, but that opinion is a completely different piece. Yet, I have been taking part in censorship, and, in my opinion, the very worst form of censorship: self-censorship. Over the course of my blogging/content creating/writing journey, I have written and posted about depression, anxiety, being a rape servivor, PTSD, mental health, and all that jazz. Except, I’ve written and posted about the sunny side of those stories. There’s a way to write about trauma and pain with a sense of humor, a brief overview, a silver lining to make it palatable. A piece that makes people go, that’s a bummer and continue on their days without being weighed down by the story they’ve just read.  

For the longest time, it remained a mystery. Why couldn’t I write? Why couldn’t I post anything I did write? Because I love the fact that my darkest pain can be a light for other survivors. To share the burden, help others heal, create a community, be seen was so meaningful.  

The answer was simple: I didn’t want to hurt anyone. 

I have always been bad at opening myself up to people. Showing emotions and vulnerability is not a strength. If anything, I’m realizing at 30, the people I thought knew me best really don’t know me well at all. It’s not their fault. Not even remotely. I am so private about everything, that I don’t let those closest see me. They have proven they care over and over again, but being open does not come naturally. Instead, I allow myself to exist in their lives as a fairly emotionally one-dimensional human. I’ve been censoring my existence to everyone my entire life. Censoring comes easy. It’s easier than being raw and open. It’s hard letting the entire world really see you. Especially when most of what there is to see is pain.

“To live is to suffer, to survive is to find some meaning in the suffering.” Friedrich Nietzsche

I don’t shy away from hard work, and I have always found it much easier to write than speak (my friends are used to getting letters expressing my emotions when I’m feeling anything other than Happy), so that’s really not the reason I have been silent on the topics that mean the most to me for the last five years. 

Pain. My reality, my truth causes other people pain. Pain, not discomfort at the violent and abusive behavior they’re being brought into. My pain causes others pain because the experiences that I was forced to endure challenges their perception of me, themselves, and life. I deny my experiences to maintain peace, which denies a huge part of who I am, which only causes me more pain. I was taught to tip-toe and hush-hush, make myself small, and never hurt anyone’s feelings or create waves even if that means not speaking the truth or denying the truth completely. So I have been protecting feelings. Other people’s feelings. Feelings belonging to people who wouldn’t give a second thought to what it’s like to be in me.

I live a non-traditional life. I like it this way. It makes me happier. I watch people struggle to fit into a box that society has made for them. They find happiness or contentment. Sometimes they don’t. But I’m not convinced they’re all soaking up all the happiness and joy the world has to offer. I’m not happy when I’m conforming or doing what is expected of me. Though I’m good at it, I’m miserable chasing the traditional ideals. Those who have chosen to be in my non-traditional life support and love me no matter what. I don’t talk about so much of it anymore because it makes things difficult for some. I don’t even think about it anymore because I’ve spent so much time overthinking how a post or picture will upset the status quo.    

People take my silence as shame or guilt. I’ve made some really hard choices. I’ve made out of the box choices. I’ve made dangerous choices. I’ve made stupid choices. I’ve made choices for love. I’ve made choices for money. I’ve made choices out of necessity. I’ve made choices with great repercussions. I’ve made choices of all kinds. I’ve mostly made them alone. I have been very alone yet surrounded by people my entire life. As an adult, I’m more comfortable alone than in partnership because I will be solely responsible for my choices no matter the outcome. The one thing I am not is guilty or ashamed. I am not ashamed of the life I live or the person I have become or the person I was or the things I did. In fact, I’m pretty fucking proud of every choice I made because so often I made desperate choices when there were very few options and none of them were good. But I have not lived with that pride because it causes pain.

At 30 with a lot of very serious health problems, I am goddamn tired. I am tired of always censoring what I say because it hurts people. I am tired of having to not talk about huge swaths of my life because it hurts people. I’m tired of not being able to be me all the time because it hurts people. I’m not going to continue to be small because it makes other people’s lives uncomfortable. 

I’m not censoring myself anymore. It’s all going to be out there. Because I’m not being real. I’m not being authentic. I’m not doing everything I can to make the world a better place. 

11..., Lifestyle

11… Hopes for the New Year

Enjoying Christmas things in Baytown, Texas. | Dress | Shirt | Boots |

I’ve never been one for resolutions. In reality, I’m not even one for goal setting or manifesting. It’s not that I’m unmotivated; I’m actually incredibly motivated and hardworking. I’ve just found that it doesn’t work for me. Resolutions, goals, manifestations are not for me. 

Happiness and kindness are the two driving forces in my life. Every day I wake up and live my life to the best of my abilities by making choices that make me happy and do as much good as I can in the world. At the end of the day, if I have accomplished those, I have lived a good day and that will culminate into a good life. I hope. 

2020 was quite the year. Filled with ups and downs on a global and personal scale. I did what I could to find happiness and create kindness, but I, like the entirety of Earth’s population, am hoping for better things in 2021. 

I missed the usual Christmas traditions in 2020, but I won’t let it get me down for 2021. | Dress | Flannel | Boots | Earrings |
  1. I hope the pandemic is reigned in. For selfish reasons, I want life to get on with it. For global reasons, I want life to get on with it. Everything has been on hold for far too long. 
  2. I hope to see friends and family again. It’s been over a year since I have seen some of my closest friends and family members. Some live far away and others live just on the other side of town. Due to COVID, I have gone without seeing many people for their safety and mine. It sucks, but it is for the best. 
  3. I hope to travel. Knock on wood, 2020 was supposed to be my year of international travel. Shocker: It wasn’t. I went to none of the places I was supposed to. It makes me sad, but at the end of the day, it was for the best. Most of the trips were postponed, a few were permanently canceled. Time will tell when I get to see Europe again. 
  4. I hope for health. The health of the world and myself. As an imuno-compromised person, this year has been tough. I’ll speak more on how I’m ringing in 2021later, but it’s not the way I was hoping for my family.
  5. I hope to be more consistent. 2020 was anything but my finest year of consistency. I managed to let so many things fall through the cracks that I have never ever let fall through the cracks before. I’m ashamed… Kind of. In all honesty, I’m disappointed in myself, but at the end of the day, I just couldn’t make those things happen. In 2021, I want to get back to being the consistent human I was before and even more consistent than before.  
  6. I hope to get back to working. As a freelance writer, COVID seriously affected my income. I’m not complaining because, at least, I’m still working. It has been a very, very slow year for me. As a creative, I was impacted significantly. Luckily, I have a partner who has been able to work consistently throughout the pandemic, so we have not struggled the way other families have. I miss working, though. Here’s to a better year!
  7. I hope to not wear a mask. I will absolutely continue to wear a mask until it is completely safe to not wear one. I am looking forward to not having to need it, though. 
  8. I hope the vaccine can be administered to one and all. 
  9. I hope my puppies continue to grow healthy and strong. They will celebrate their first birthday in March. I can’t believe how soon that is and how quickly this year has gone by. I was so very blessed to have them and be able to provide for their health and happiness. COVID gave me the time to care for them, and for that, I will forever be grateful for 2020. 
  10. I hope to grow my blog. 2020 was incredibly inconsistent for the blog. It grew and shrunk and stagnated. I’m not complaining. I love this part of my life, but I’m hoping to really dive into it in the way I had been wanting to in 2020 but was unable to. I have a lot of books to catch up on reviews. So I hope to have those all published by May. Fingers crossed. 
  11. I hope to continue chasing happiness and kindness. I want 2021 to be filled with happiness for myself and others. I want to spread kindness wherever I go, making the world a better place as much as I possibly can. 
  12. Bonus Hope I hope to get a bunch of projects done in my house. I very much love it as it is, but there are so many things I want to get done, like painting and decorating. I’ll absolutely document my progress as I go because it’s so fun!!!

bisous und обьятий,
RaeAnna

Shop the Post
[show_shopthepost_widget id=”4328155″]