Overcoming

"Overcoming"—such a powerful word, isn't it? It signifies moving beyond life changing or hurtful situations. Overcoming trauma, abuse, adversity—these are monumental achievements. Today, though, I want to talk about something seemingly smaller.

Reflecting on my life now, things are so much better than they were six years ago. I never imagined living the life I have today, and I am forever grateful for what I have accomplished and overcome. However, one thing I still struggle with is letting criticism get the best of me. My instinct is to go on the defensive and back myself up. I've always been my own supporter, so this reaction instantly surfaces when I'm criticized.

Through my healing journey, I've learned that you don't have to defend yourself to be understood. Actions speak louder than words, and getting defensive can look like an admission of guilt. Logically, I know this, but when confronted with criticism about my performance or abilities, my emotions well up, and I instinctively get defensive.

It sounds trivial, but it drives me crazy. I have to mentally take a step back, keep my mouth shut, and remember that I don't need to justify myself if I haven't done anything wrong. Why do I need to defend myself to coworkers or acquaintances? I don't. If I know that what I'm doing is right for me, that's all that matters. I'm not breaking any rules or laws, and I'm not hurting anyone with my actions. So why do I feel so compelled to prove myself to these insignificant people?

It all traces back to an early trauma coping mechanism: people-pleasing. I've done so much work on myself and overcome huge hurdles when it comes to putting myself first and not caring about others' opinions, yet here I am. It's bewildering that I still seek approval from those who play such a small role in my life. It makes me feel weak and hopeless, like I'll never fully master "overcoming trauma." There always seems to be something holding me back.

But then I step back and look at how far I've come. I used to be homeless, a doormat, a junkie. I let people walk all over me, abuse, and berate me because I had no self-worth. I was living in the back of a broken-down truck, living for dope. Today, I am strong and resilient. I am clean and sober. I live in a home I own with the love of my life, who treats me with respect and care. I've come a long way. Healing is a journey, not a trip. It has twists, turns, setbacks, and fumbles. And that's okay. It's okay for things to still get under your skin. That's being human. If nothing bothered you, would you really be feeling the full scope of human emotion? I don't know.

I've learned to be gentle with myself when I experience setbacks. Nothing is wrong with feeling the way I do—it's just time for my coping skills to guide me through the situation. I don't dwell on these incidents; they come and go, and I remain a badass woman either way. Overcoming is amazing, and learning that it's okay not to overcome everything is even better. It means I am human.