You don’t have to know how it feels to be me to love me.

Where is that smell coming from????. I search. I search more. All day I smell it. I can’t find it. Finally I make the discovery of the belt. I ask how long has this belt been here. Just a day. It has cologne on it. Who knows from where or who but it does. I take it outside and wipe it off. I start to hyperventilate. I start to heave in the yard. I can’t get the smell off. I turn the hose on and spray off the belt. Then I toss it in the garage and turn the box fan on it to dry it. Classic PTSD incase you don’t know the signs. I then get in the shower. I have no idea how long I’ve been in there. When I get out I feel my back stinging. I look at it in the mirror. I can see the bones sticking out of my back. I wonder what I have eaten today but can’t really recall. My back is splotchy. My legs are streaked. The water was too hot. I scrubbed my skin raw. The scrubber is not my friend. Or is it! 


(Don’t worry, I’m not naked. I just pulled my pink tank top straps off to look at my back. )

 I lay down on my bed staring at the picture of a hawk on my wall. Don’t close your eyes. Just look at the picture. But my fingers are tingly and I can barely feel my legs. I close my eyes. And I think. No one knows what it feels like to be me. 

If you have not hurled at the smell of cologne. You don’t know what it feels like to be me. 

If you haven’t written this sentence 5 times backwards. You don’t know what it feels like to be me. 

If you haven’t…

Rescued a kitten just to have it suffer and die in your arms.

Hold the hand of a dying woman as she passes over.

Met the man of your dreams.

Given birth after 30 hours of labor.

Climbed to the top of a 3 tier pyramid at Cypress Gardens, pull out the American flag that was stuck in your shirt and hold it high in the air as the people in the crowd clap.

Won first place in a waterski competition even though you almost fell.

Learned how to do a trick on your ski that most people do 2 handed but you learned one handed because your other arm was broken which is what won you the competition.

Known your grandfather died before anyone told you.

Known your nana died before anyone told you.

Watched your daughter suffer from a failing organ 3 times!

Watched your child suffer a 4 year debilitating illness.

Been treated like a sex toy at the age of 11. 

Been raped in the shower by the time you were 17.

Felt every bone in your body like a walking skeleton due to bone pain.

Watched your body waste away due to atrophy of a muscle disease. 

Forget when the last time you ate was because you had grand mal seizures that scrambled your brain. 

Been forced to touch a penis when you were only 14…
Then you don’t know how it feels to be me. 

No one knows how it feels to be me. 
Then my daughter comes in, “Mom, you burned off a lot of adrenaline. Eat this granola bar. Hold on let me check your heart rate and oxygenation. Ok it looks good. Now eat this and you’ll feel better. You aren’t going to have a seizure are you? Do you need meds?” 
My daughter does not know how it feels to be me. She did however notice I was struggling, suffering. 

But my daughter knows how to give compassion. She knows how to love. She knows how to nurture. 
No one can know how it feels to be me. No one has lived through the good and the bad I have lived through. 

Just like…

I can’t know how it feels to be you. 

No one can really know what it feels like to be you. 

The suffering and the pain, the joy, the sorrow, and the celebration, are our own moments in time. They are our own stories. 
We may not know how it feels to be living another person’s life, but we can choose compassion. We can choose love. We can choose presence. We can choose to listen. 
I felt, in my bed just now, that no one could possibly know what it felt like to be me and therefore I was utterly alone. But, it did not take someone knowing what it felt like to be me to make me feel un-alone. It took love. All it took was one person, that happened to be my daughter, to show that no matter what I was feeling, it was worthy of her time. Whatever I was going through was worthy of her checking to make sure I was ok. She is only 21. She gave me a great gift. The gift of wisdom that I am now sharing with you due to her ability to love. 
Unless you happen to have seizures, a muscle disease, a bone disease, lost your dog to cancer, have a sick child, etc, then that just means, you aren’t me! There is no other me. There is no other you. We are originals. Our circumstances may be similar. Our emotions may be similar. Whether we have similarities or are completely different, but we each have the ability to choose empathy. My daughter has experienced not one of the the things I have that would allow her to know how it felt to walk in my shoes, thankfully. She does not KNOW how it FEELS to BE ME. 

Yet, her heart knows my heart. Simply because she chooses to love. 

 Need there be anything more…

41 thoughts on “You don’t have to know how it feels to be me to love me.

  1. What a beautiful post, girl 😘😘. You are utterly amazing. I know you’re just being you, but that’s the point 😉💜. I admire your strength a lot. I’m so sorry you’ve been through what you have. I wish I could take the pain away 💞. Your message at the end, though says it all. Empathy for the world, and love, too 💗💗

    Liked by 2 people

    • I know you do! And my point is that none of us really know what the other one is going through and that is okay as long as we love each other the same!
      So sending love from Florida to Ireland because you know I adore you!!!!!

      Liked by 2 people

  2. I love you. I’m so sorry about the redness on your back. I hope you feel better soon. I can’t tell you how proud of you I am. Each post I read I see you and I see you healing and becoming the person you are supposed to be. If people can’t love you and accept you for who you are then fuck them. Fuck them. You don’t need those people in your life. You have a whole family here on WordPress that loves you and knows you and accepts you for who you are. We know you. We know your heart because you share it with us every time you post. You are honest, truthful, raw, real, and just always there for those in need. I wouldn’t be here without you or your blog. So thank you. Thank you for being you. Thank you for being you because you have helped me to be myself because you decided to be you. You taught me to love myself even when I had doubts. Thank you. I love you my beautiful friend. I love you!

    Liked by 1 person

    • SOOO sick of the smell thing. Hate it!!!! Day ruined for sure. Hard to pull out of the smell nomatter what coping skills I have gained in all these years.
      Thanks for understanding!
      My daughter is really freaking awesome. Thanks

      Liked by 1 person

      • Your welcome … I actually tried the orange in vaseline, to stink up my nose (we talked about it awhile ago 😉 ) … but it didnt work for Me. Still working on a practical solution – although sniffing an around balances it a bit for Me its also doesn’t solve it completely.

        Liked by 1 person

      • Last night i used the peppermint my daughter uses. Burts bees peppermint chapstick. It was helpful. The orange did nothing. I boiled cinnamon and cloves last night and that did help. Just kind of sucked in that smell and it goton my clothes too so it got the cologne world out.

        Liked by 1 person

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