#SheIsGoingThroughAThing …bless her heart.

25 Sep #SheIsGoingThroughAThing …bless her heart.

We are a generation of information. We are a people of information overload. Instead of millenials, the people who decide what our generations are named could have accurately substituted “TMI-ers” as our triumphant title. We share. We like. We share again–the important, the funny, the stupid, the uninteresting, and the inspiring.

Though there are many cons of our over-informed era, the biggest con of all might be what happens when we share too much. What happens when our hearts get broken and we look to the internet to heal our wounds?

“Well that would be silly, of course,” you say, “because no one looks to the internet to heal them, Emily.”

You’re right. No one looks to the internet to heal them…knowingly.

A few years ago, I went through a severe trauma. If you were around for it, I owe you an apology. [I’ll get to that.] On the backside of that trauma, I was floundering. I was drowning. I was underwater trying to breathe through a straw that barely made it to the surface.

Let me tell you how this went. World shattered to bits: Emily tries not to drown. In order to not drown she throws herself into anything that might convince her she is still living, she is still breathing, and that fighting for life in this world matters. So she does anything and everything in the name of bravery, in an effort to be heard, and all the things that might convince her she is not already dead.

It was an interesting time. I did four insta yoga challenges at once. (That translates to four daily insta photos of me doing attempting a yoga pose.) One month the challenge was all about being unapologetically (yes, just made that word up) you. So I confessed insecurities to a camera, I danced around in my bathing suit to prove to the world that,

“YOU CANNOT KEEP ME DOWN.

YOU WILL NOT LOCK ME IN A BOX.

YOU CANNOT HAVE MY SOUL.

I CAN DO WHATEVER I WANT, DAMN IT.

I AM ALIVE & I WILL LIVE.”

Which was beautiful, because I needed that at the time. But for the sake of all things holy, if I ever experience great trauma again in my life: take away my social media accounts. Change the passwords. I will fight you, but it will be okay. Doing all the things I did was great, but did not necessarily need to be documented for the world.

At best, what happens when you share all of your shattered heart pieces with the interweb world, the affirmation you receive will not heal you, but momentarily validate you. At worst, the criticism you receive will crush you even further.

We share because we want you to know it’s important. “I’m drowning over here, mmmk? Life is shit so if I seem spastic, just know I am just trying to survive. Carry on with your pretty lettered bible verses and adorable children photos. It’s fine. No, really. I’m fine.”

When you react to the horrific events we have experienced it makes us feel less crazy. If you know and can vouch that it is atrocious too, then I get to feel less insane. Thank you very much.

Here is what you need to know: your story is important no matter who validates, hears, questions or criticizes it. 

I cannot regret all of the stupid things I did on the internet post-trauma, but I wish someone would have told me. I wish someone would have said that it was not helpful; that I was asking for band-aids from strangers when I really needed a Savior who heals. I needed a heart surgeon and hugs from close family and friends…not likes and “oh my gosh, this is terrible. I am so sorry” from “friends” who hadn’t been around in years. [I am not saying they were wrong or insincere or even unhelpful. I am simply pointing out that those things are only a drop of what you really need when your heart is aching, your brain can no longer compute the chaos you suffer, and you literally want to disappear.]

Dear aching heart, I see you. I see you not because you are splayed out all over the internet–at least, hopefully you aren’t–but I see you as a sister who has stood where you are. What you long to hear, even if you find it online, will not satisfy.

Know who your people are. Look around. The ones who have held you down-the anchors amongst the storm-those are your people. Allow them to care for you. Let those, who have earned the right, see you undone. They cannot change your storm. They will not be able to heal your wounds. But the love that comes from someone who is willing to physically sit with you in your pain…that is healing. There you will be found again.

“I’m here. I love you. I don’t care if you need to stay up crying all night long, I will stay with you. If you need the medication again, go ahead and take it—I will love you through that, as well. If you don’t need the medication, I will love you, too. There’s nothing you can ever do to lose my love. I will protect you until you die, and after your death I will still protect you. I am stronger than Depression and I am braver than Loneliness and nothing will ever exhaust me.”  {Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love}

If you were around for my post-trauma escapades, I am sorry. For those who shared your story with me and met me where I was, for those who showed me empathy and compassion while I was going through my thing…thank you. Thank you. Thank you for not further crushing me. Thank you for not taking me out. Thank you for graciously accepting my word vomit all over you. Please forgive me for my desperate search for validation from you. It was unintentional I assure you.