Learning to Trust Yourself When It Is Time for Something New

I think it is time for something new, although I have written versions of that sentence before, which makes me a little suspicious of myself when I write it again. Learning to trust yourself after trauma can get complicated when you know that running away was once part of how you survived. Am I running? Am I restless? Am I looking for the next place because I still haven't figured out how to stay? Those are fair questions. I have asked them many times during my healing journey, and I am sure I will ask them again. But something feels different this time, even if I cannot quite explain what the difference is yet.

I spent a week in Bozeman, Montana, and I was frazzled almost the entire time. I had been looking forward to Montana, or at least I thought I had been. Somewhere before I left, though, my gut was telling me not to go. I knew it. I felt it. And I went anyway. Looking back, I really should have listened to myself, which is rather interesting considering how much of my work in therapy has been about self-trust, validating myself, and believing that what I think and feel has value.

Therapy was hard, too. I felt stuck, and I still do in some ways. I don't think that necessarily means therapy isn't working. At least I don't think that is what it means. There is simply so much else going on right now that I wonder how much room I actually have for some of the deeper work. I have been dealing with where I live, where I work, what comes next, finances, my projects, and now more decisions about my body. My knee needs surgery, and then the opposite ankle needs surgery. Apparently my lower extremities have decided to take turns.

I can make a joke about that because sometimes humor is the easiest part. The harder part is admitting how tired I am of having another thing to deal with. I broke one ankle months ago, and it seems as though my body and my life have been throwing one thing after another at me ever since. Every time I think things might settle down a little, something else appears. I don't think I am feeling sorry for myself. Maybe I am a little. I think I am mostly tired of having to figure everything out while also trying to continue healing and moving forward.

Maybe that is part of why Bozeman was not what I expected this time. I went there carrying too much with me. I don't mean luggage, although I always seem to have plenty of that, too. I arrived already tired, already thinking about surgeries, work, projects, money, where I am going to live, and all the things I think I should be accomplishing. Then I expected myself to do difficult trauma therapy on top of all of it. Of course I felt frazzled.

There is something else I keep coming back to though. I did not listen to myself when I knew I didn't want to go. I overrode whatever was telling me to stay put because I had a plan. I had appointments. I had reasons to go. Maybe the reasons were perfectly good, but I am beginning to wonder how many times I have talked myself out of what I already knew because I could produce enough logical reasons to do something else.

That gets right back to learning to trust myself. I keep wanting self-trust to arrive as some big confident feeling where I suddenly know exactly what I want and never question myself again. I am beginning to suspect trusting your intuition may be much quieter than that. Maybe sometimes it is simply noticing the little voice that says, "I don't think I want to do this," and not immediately explaining to yourself why that voice is wrong.

Now I am thinking about leaving the western Sierras. I have moved so many times that even writing that makes me wonder whether I am doing it again. Maybe I am. I don't know. The western Sierras gave me something I needed. There was quiet here. There was space. There were trees and mountain roads and places where I could disappear for a while and begin figuring out who I was when so much of my life was changing. I don't regret coming here.

I think I may be reaching the end of this particular season, though. That does not mean there is anything wrong with this place. Maybe a place can be right for one part of a healing journey and still stop being right later. I have spent so much time trying to figure out where I belong that perhaps I have made the question much more complicated than it needs to be. I don't know where I am supposed to live forever. I am not even interested in answering that question right now.

What I want is something that moves my heart. I am not entirely sure what I mean by that yet. Maybe it is a place. Maybe it is community. Maybe it is being closer to something that matters to me. Maybe it is waking up and feeling curious about what is outside my door. Maybe it is having a home where I can finally stop packing and unpacking. Maybe finding where I belong has less to do with geography than I have thought.

There is also the possibility that I am running again. I have to leave room for that because I know myself well enough now to recognize that movement can feel very comfortable when staying with something feels difficult. But I also don't want fear of running to become another reason I don't trust myself. That would be rather ironic. If every desire for change has to be interrogated until I can prove that it is not connected to trauma or something in my past, I may never allow myself to choose anything new.

Maybe that is another part of healing after trauma that I am beginning to understand. Eventually I have to allow myself to make choices without putting every choice on trial. I can question myself. I can be curious about my motives. I can change my mind. I can even make a choice that turns out not to be right for me. None of those things automatically mean I cannot trust myself.

So maybe I don't need to know yet whether this is leaving, running, choosing, searching, or simply moving forward. Maybe I can pay attention to what happens when I begin looking toward something new. Not only what makes the most sense on paper, not what I think I should want, and not even what I wanted six months ago. I want to know what moves my heart now, and I think I would like to trust myself enough to find out.

Have you ever reached a point in your own healing journey when learning to trust yourself meant allowing yourself to choose something new?

~ julie

If you feel so inclined, please reply with your thoughts.

Note: JM Lane is NOT a mental health professional, nor does she carry a license to practice medicine. Posts, blogs, and content are based on JM Lane’s personal experiences, perceptions, and reflections. By no means does any material convey what others should or should not do.

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