When I think back on October, the first thing that comes to mind is that it’s been a month of vulnerability and bravery. I hate being vulnerable but I’m proud of myself for stepping outside my comfort zone. October has been very different from what I expected in more ways than one, and it’s been eventful to say the least. Looking back, there have been some really lovely moments that have stood out to me. I’ve also realised that I can burn myself out quite quickly. When I’m tired, I tend to get emotional, and I think the least I can do for myself in those moments is allow myself to rest and recharge. Otherwise, I start to detach from everything, and I noticed glimpses of that happening this month. So, in this post, I want to look back at the awareness posts, reflect on what the experience has taught me and talk about October as a whole. I know my blog has covered some heavy subjects recently, but I hope that you can understand a little more about why this was so important to me. I also want to acknowledge that, alongside the difficult moments, there have been things I’m genuinely grateful for. I think it’s important to make room for both when looking back on a month that has brought up so much.
This month, I’ve realised that I’m starting to understand myself quite well. I know that might sound a little strange, but I’m beginning to recognise certain patterns in my behaviour. I’ve realised that I can be quite avoidant at times, and I’m starting to understand what triggers me to behave that way. We all go through experiences that shape us into the people we are today, and accept certain behaviours as simply being part of who we are. We tell ourselves, “That’s just how I am,” without necessarily questioning where those behaviours came from or whether they’re helping us, but I don’t want to do that anymore. I want to try to understand myself better. For example, I can sometimes come across as cold or blunt, and I think part of that is because I’m trying to protect myself from getting too close to people. I suppose there’s a fear that if I let people in, I might end up getting hurt. Keeping my distance can feel like a way of protecting myself, but I also recognise that it can make it harder to build relationships and allow people to get to know me properly. That’s something I want to work on. I don’t want the things I’ve experienced in the past to dictate how I approach every relationship in the future.
What I’ve found difficult to acknowledge is that I still have some healing to do. I’m beginning to wonder whether keeping so much to myself has contributed to some of the things I’m still struggling with. I know there are things I need to work through, but admitting that is difficult because, in some ways, it feels as though I’ve failed myself. I’m beginning to understand that is not the case. It means I’m recognising parts of me that need a little more understanding and attention. It takes courage to look at ourselves honestly, and recognise where we might need to do things differently. I think it’s easy to recognise the things we’d like to change in other people, but looking at ourselves in the same way can be much more uncomfortable. What I’ve learnt this month is that understanding myself is an ongoing process. I don’t need to have all the answers, but for now, that means allowing myself more time to process my feelings and making a conscious effort to take time for myself when I need it. I’m beginning to realise that understanding myself isn’t about criticising who I’ve been. It’s about understanding why I am the way I am and deciding what I want to do with that knowledge moving forward.
Putting my experiences into words was quite scary, and part of me still worries about whether I’ve done my story justice and whether I’ve helped raise awareness of domestic abuse in the way I hoped to. There were so many times when I thought about taking my posts down, but I kept reminding myself why I’d decided to share them in the first place. Of course, I could have raised awareness without sharing my own story, but I wanted to offer something more personal than another post about statistics. Statistics are important, and they help us understand how widespread domestic abuse is, but what we don’t always hear about is the reality of what it’s like to experience it. Before sharing my posts, I was worried that people might think I was looking for attention. I mentally prepared myself for the possibility that people who knew me might distance themselves from me, or that someone might look at me differently once they knew what I’d been through. I was prepared for the possibility that sharing something so personal might change some of my relationships. Something else I didn’t expect was how differently I began to view certain experiences once I’d written about them.
At the time, there were things I felt numb to, but when I put those experiences into words and looked back on them, I found myself thinking, “How did I ever come to accept that?” There were things I’d justified as not being so bad when I compared them with other things that had happened. If a particular day consisted of the things I’d come to consider less bad, then in my mind, it was an okay day. The truth is that those experiences were still bad, and they were things I should never have had to go through. What I found difficult about being open wasn’t just sharing my story. It was how I felt afterwards. I felt torn between retreating into my shell and making an effort to carry on normally. There were positive surprises, too. I was reminded that I have some incredibly supportive people around me. That was a really warm feeling, especially when I’d spent so much time preparing myself for the opposite. Ultimately, sharing my story has been both more difficult and rewarding than I expected. It’s brought up feelings I hadn’t anticipated, but it’s also helped me see certain things differently and reminded me of the support I have around me. I’m still processing parts of the experience, but I’m proud of myself for having the courage to do it.
Looking back, I can recognise things I didn’t question at the time. I didn’t necessarily see the constant messages when I was out as controlling. I could interpret them as a sign of care or love rather than questioning why I was receiving so many. I also remember how work became my safe place, and how afraid I could be of saying the wrong thing. Those things mean something different to me now than they did at the time. I think that’s important to acknowledge because, when you’re in the middle of something, you don’t always recognise what’s happening straight away. If you’ve never experienced domestic abuse, I’d encourage you to think about whether you would recognise the signs if you or someone you knew were experiencing it. Would you know what to look for? If someone you cared about came to you, would you be able to listen without judgement and offer support, even if you didn’t fully understand their situation? You don’t have to have all the answers. Sometimes, listening, believing someone and allowing them to make their own decisions without pressuring them can make a real difference, and if you have experienced abuse, I want you to know that healing doesn’t come with a set timeframe.
We never know the full story behind what someone shows the world. People can appear to be getting on with life while dealing with things others know nothing about. Someone might be working, laughing, socialising or posting online while struggling with something deeply personal. Someone might be dealing with grief, anxiety, difficult relationships, or experiences they’re not ready to discuss with anyone else. How many of us have turned up to work feeling hurt inside but pretended there was nothing going on? We put on a mask so that nobody suspects a thing. The fewer questions, the better, right? We don’t want to feel that we have to tell someone what’s wrong just because they can see that something isn’t quite right. We might simply want to get through the day without drawing attention to ourselves. I think it’s important to remember that many of us can experience similar situations and still deal with them very differently. We all have our own ways of coping. Just because someone appears to be coping differently from us doesn’t mean they’re struggling any less. We don’t know what they’re dealing with privately, what they’ve already been through or how much effort it takes for them to carry on with everyday life.
I also think we sometimes make assumptions about how someone should behave when they’re going through something difficult. Someone might be quieter than usual, seem more withdrawn or become a little snappy. It’s easy to take those changes personally. That doesn’t mean we should automatically excuse every behaviour, but I think we’d understand one another a little better if we approached people with more curiosity and less judgement. Sometimes, simply letting someone know that we’ve noticed them, that we’re thinking of them and that we’re there if they need us can make a difference. We can offer support without expecting them to explain everything to us. We can leave the door open and allow the other person to decide whether they want to walk through it. I think we sometimes put pressure on ourselves to find the right words or come up with a solution when someone we care about is struggling. We want to make things better for them, but sometimes, they need understanding rather than a lecture, and comfort rather than advice. We can still listen, and offer kindness without needing to know every detail, because we never know what someone might be carrying beneath the surface, and a little compassion can go a long way.
So, what do I want to remember about this month? For me, I want to remember how brave I was in sharing my story. Part of me has felt disappointed that I haven’t been able to post more, but I underestimated just how emotionally demanding sharing my experiences would be. Looking back, I think I expected myself to carry on as normal, without fully considering how much I’d brought to the surface. Moving forward, I’d like to give myself more permission to take time out when things become too much. I also want to stop putting unnecessary pressure on myself to feel fine. Sometimes, I feel as though I can’t afford not to be okay because there are other people in my life who need me, and I want to be in a position where I can be there for them. The truth is, I’m allowed to have bad days too. For November, I want to make more of an effort to work on, and let go of some of the expectations I put on myself. I am my biggest critic. My nan tells me this all the time. I don’t know why I hold myself to such high standards, but I do. One of the things I need to learn is that sometimes, it’s enough to recognise that I’ve done my best, give myself a little breathing room and allow things to happen in their own time.
To anyone reading this who is currently going through something difficult, I want you to know that you shouldn’t blame yourself for how you’re feeling or for something that has happened beyond your control. It isn’t your fault. Take things one day at a time rather than worrying too much about the future. If you need to cry, then cry. If you need some time to yourself, take it. Don’t feel that you have to bottle everything up or pretend you’re okay when you’re not. I also want you to remember that you don’t have to share your story until you’re ready. If you’re worried about being judged for talking about what you’ve been through, I understand that fear because I felt it myself. I spent so much time worrying about how people would react, but I was met with kindness and support. It made me realise just how many people were there for me. Sharing your experiences can be incredibly powerful, and it might help someone else feel less alone, but I don’t want anyone to feel that they have to share their story publicly because I chose to share mine. Something I wish more people understood is that there are people willing to listen, and nobody should feel that they have to suffer in silence.
One thing that particularly concerns me is the pressure some men might feel to keep their struggles to themselves. I think there’s still a lot of work to be done to make men feel that they can talk openly about how they’re feeling, without being judged or made to feel less of themselves. Being able to speak about how you’re feeling shouldn’t be something that makes you feel embarrassed or ashamed. I think we all have a part to play in making it easier for people to open up. Sometimes, it’s not just about encouraging someone to talk, it’s also about considering how we respond when they do. If someone chooses to open up to you, please don’t downplay what they’re going through or make them feel that their experiences aren’t significant. You might not fully understand what they’re dealing with, but you can still listen, show compassion and make them feel safe enough to be honest. Sometimes, simply allowing someone to speak without judgement, acknowledging how they’re feeling, and letting them know you’re there, can mean more than you realise. We can’t always take away what someone is going through, but we can make sure they don’t feel alone while they’re going through it.
Once you close this page, I can’t control how you interpret what I’ve shared, and I suppose that’s something I’ve had to accept throughout this experience, but I do hope that, in some way, sharing my story has helped you understand me a little better and perhaps feel more connected to the person behind the screen, because, behind the screen, I’m just like you. I have good days and bad days, things I struggle with, things I’m working through and moments when I don’t quite have everything figured out. I hope you take away the reminder that it’s okay to have bad days as well as good ones. You don’t have to be okay all the time, and neither does anyone else. I genuinely hope we can make a positive difference in how we approach people who feel ready to share their experiences. I think we all have a part to play in making it easier for people to speak openly, without fear of being judged, dismissed or made to feel that their experiences aren’t valid, and perhaps that’s where change begins. Not just by encouraging people to speak, but by making sure they feel safe when they do. Above all, I think we need to remind ourselves that we owe ourselves the same love, kindness and understanding that we so freely give to others. Be kinder to yourself. Be kinder to one another, and remember that you never really know what someone is going through.
Has this month made you think differently about how we treat others, or perhaps how you treat yourself?
Amy x
