I've been sitting on this post for a while, hesitant to share. However, this time of year always hits differently. The twinkling lights, the festive cheer, and the constant reminders of family togetherness... it's a bittersweet symphony that plays on repeat in my mind. It's like a familiar melody that brings both warmth and a twinge of sadness, reminding me of what I have and what I'm missing.
I didn't want to write this. I know my womb donor stalks my online presence, and there's a part of me that doesn't want her to think she's still affecting me. It's that old fear creeping in, the one that tells me to keep my feelings hidden. But then I realised something important, this isn't about her winning. This is about me being honest with myself and with you. This is about acknowledging the complex emotions that come with healing and growth, especially during the holidays.
No matter how far I've come on my healing journey, there are still days when the weight of it all feels overwhelming. Today is one of those days. I'm thinking about all those lost years, the memories we could have made together, the laughter that should have filled our family home. It makes my heart ache in a way that's hard to describe. It's like there's this empty space in the room, a silence where there should be the chaos and joy of siblings reunited.
Don't get me wrong - I'm incredibly grateful that I can still speak to my siblings. Our bond remains strong despite everything we've been through, and that's something I cherish deeply. We talk, we share, we support each other from afar. But there's something about the holidays that amplifies the physical distance between us. I miss the little things - the playful arguments over board games, the quiet moments of just being together. It's those tangible, in-person experiences that no phone call can fully replace.
I find myself wondering what our holiday gatherings could have been like if things were different. Would we have silly traditions? Would we stay up late on Christmas Eve, whispering and giggling like we did when we were kids? These thoughts aren't regrets, exactly, but more like bittersweet daydreams of a parallel life.
I've preached time and time again that healing isn't a linear journey. Well, here I am, living proof of that very fact. I have bad days too. Days when the grief of not having my siblings physically around during the holidays sneaks up on me and knocks the wind out of my sails. And you know what? That's okay. It doesn't mean I'm ungrateful for what I have or that I'm backsliding in my healing. It means I'm human, capable of holding multiple truths at once.
It's okay to mourn the family gatherings we don't have while still appreciating the relationships we've managed to preserve. It's okay to feel the sting of physical separation from our siblings, especially during the holidays, even as we celebrate the bonds we maintain. These feelings don't negate our progress or the love we share; they're part of the complex tapestry of emotions that come with healing from childhood trauma.
So, if you're out there feeling a similar ache this holiday season, know that you're not alone. It's okay to have conflicting emotions. It's okay to be grateful for the relationships you maintain with your siblings while still feeling sad about not being together. That's the complex reality of healing from narcissistic abuse and navigating complicated family dynamics. Our hearts are big enough to hold both joy and sorrow, gratitude and longing.
Remember, acknowledging these feelings isn't a step backward. It's a testament to our capacity to feel, to love, and to grow. We're not just surviving anymore; we're learning to thrive, even on the hard days. We're learning to embrace the full spectrum of our emotions, to sit with discomfort, and to find beauty in our resilience.
To all my fellow survivors out there navigating the holiday blues, I see you. I feel you. And I'm sending you all the strength and love in the world. Know that it's okay to create new traditions, to find joy in unexpected places, and to honour your feelings, whatever they may be. Your journey is your own, and there's no right or wrong way to feel during this season.
And to my siblings, even though we're apart, you're always in my heart. The love we share transcends distance, and I'm grateful for every call, every message, every moment we connect. One day, we'll create those in-person holiday memories we've missed out on. Until then, I'll cherish what we have and look forward to the future we're building together.
Stay strong, keep healing, and remember - it's okay to not be okay sometimes. Your feelings are valid, even when they're complicated. Embrace them, learn from them, and use them to fuel your continued growth and healing.
With love, understanding, and endless solidarity,
Kylie B
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