I loved the movie Memento, even though it was extremely not HSP-friendly.
And, interestingly, I also loved Fifty First Dates, even though “romantic comedy with Adam Sandler” does not sound like something I’d even agree to watch.
And I loved-loved-loved the short-lived and extremely brilliant television series called My Own Worst Enemy, about which I have no caveats at all. Watch it. It’s beautiful, intelligent, fascinating and completely mad.
All of these have one thing in common. Drew Barrymore! No. Kidding. Never mind. We’ll try again.
All of these have one thing in common. People who have forgotten essential things about themselves or important pieces of information.
And they don’t need to be reminded once, but over and over and over again.
Reminders and reminders.
There are so many things that I know and have forgotten. So many things that I seem to learn and re-learn a million times over.
And even without the MacGuffin of unlikely forms of amnesia or other complexity-ridden plot devices, the reminders need to be everywhere.
My favorite part in all these films/series is how the aware-self leaves messages and plants reminders for the unaware-self.
“You’ll need to hand the briefcase to the man in the cream-colored suit. Don’t talk about this to X.”
Or even: “You don’t like cranberries.”
Cryptic little messages. From me to me.
So yes. I already have the Book of Me, where I collect pieces of useful information.
But sometimes I just want that quick piece of truth. That reminder from the me who knows.
So I’m leaving myself reminders. Not in the form of tattoos. And not in phone messages or video.
Just post-it notes for now. On my calendar. In my bag. Hidden at the Playground.
Are you raging against everyone and everything in the entire world?
Hey. Are you feeling furious? Helpless?
Check the calendar. I guarantee this is hormonal. Don’t worry. It will pass, my love. None of this hate and despair is real. It just feels real.
It is temporary and it does not need to define you.
In the meantime, avoid people. Do not respond to things waiting for responses.
Create safe rooms and go hide. Go take care of yourself.
Do your clothes all look terrible on you?
Sometimes you will buy something small like socks and start feeling anxious and panicked.
This is Poverty PTSD.
It is another pattern that you aren’t done with yet. But you’re working on it.
In the meantime, know that you are safe. You have a successful business and everything is fine. It just doesn’t feel fine in your body yet.
Poverty PTSD is not you. It is only a part of you. It is not the entirety of your identity, even when it feels like it.
This is old trauma, and it’s really painful and you are allowed to grieve for as long as the grieving is needed.
You do not like having people stand behind you.
So don’t let them.
Sometimes you have nightmares.
Here’s what helps. Listen to the recordings from the emergency calming techniques. Write lists. Take a bath. Write words on your body. Drink tea. Read your reminders.
Lovingly question everything.
All the stories and all the things you think you know. Be the interviewer and the negotiator.
Do Shiva Nata to untangle the old patterns and bring in the new ones.
You like the color brown.
You just do. Find a deep, rich brown and everything will be better.
And comment zen for today…
You are welcome to join me in leaving cryptic little notes and reminders for yourself, here in the comments or in your home or wherever feels comfortable.
As always, we tread gently because we all have our stuff and we’re all working on our stuff.
As part of this thing that is maintaining a curious, loving relationship with ourselves, we let other people have their own stuff and we don’t give each other unsolicited advice.
That is all. Cryptic notes! Drew Barrymore!