Dear Peter:

I was hoping to hear back from you 😊.

“You are absolutely right that telling someone to ‘get over it’ is almost always harmful. Yet the concept of ‘getting over,’ ‘moving on,’ and letting go are valid practices in dealing with something you can’t change.”-

First, thank you for recognizing how harmful it can be when someone is told to “get over it”—it truly means a lot to feel validated.

Second, I appreciate how you balanced that perspective, acknowledging that letting go can still be a meaningful practice. The distinction you made is important, and it’s given me a lot to think about.

I’ll share more of my thoughts in the morning.

anita

Dear Peter:

I really appreciate the metaphor you shared.

Trauma is the river—it represents emotional struggle, turbulence, and pain that can pull someone under or make movement difficult. It’s something a person gets caught in, especially when past wounds are triggered.

Healing is the bridge—it offers a way across the pain rather than staying trapped in it. The bridge symbolizes the work of transformation, transcendence, and moving forward.

The key idea here is that the bridge exists, meaning healing is possible. But stepping onto it is another question. Sometimes, despite knowing it’s there, people stay in the river—maybe because the pain feels familiar, because crossing the bridge requires effort, or because they simply don’t feel ready to move forward.

The act of building the bridge represents the effort to transform and transcend past wounds, rather than being defined or confined by them.

You acknowledge that sometimes, you can transport yourself onto the bridge instantly, shifting your perspective and navigating past pain.

But other times, you don’t choose to do so—perhaps because part of you is still holding onto the struggle, or because stepping away feels difficult.

This raises a deeper question: Even when healing is possible, why do we sometimes resist it?

For me, I think I stayed in the river because I was alone. No one was there to help me out. What I needed was validation—someone seeing me in the river, hearing me, and telling me: “Yes, something terrible really happened to you.”

I experienced so much isolation and invalidation—comments like “Get Over It”—that I stayed in the river, waiting for connection and recognition.

I can’t emphasize enough how active invalidation in my life, starting with my mother’s massive dismissal of me, has kept me in the river.

Now that I reflect on it, even when I was validated, I rejected it because it didn’t match my own internal invalidation. I didn’t believe my own story.

The external voices that dismissed my experiences became internalized. Over time, I began to question myself: Was it really that bad, or am I exaggerating? Maybe I overreacted. Maybe I’m just too sensitive. Did I misinterpret things? And then, worse—the doubt was no longer a question: I deserved it.

To heal, I must trust my own story—recognizing that my experiences were real, valid, and meaningful, even if others refused, or still refuse, to acknowledge them.

I see now that I’ve been too attached to external validation while lacking the internal validation I truly need. Thank you, Peter, for helping me with this.

* Next, I will reply to your message from yesterday.

anita

Just yesterday, I realized how much I used to care—far too much—about what people thought of me, whether positive or negative. When it was negative, the hurt and anger were overwhelming. Poor me—I feel deep empathy for my past self—for carrying that weight so heavily.

Today, strangely, I don’t care.

I feel strong enough now, within myself, to stand firm—no longer swayed by the cold, disapproving winds of others’ judgments.

Here’s a poem, just for me 😊:

Once, Anita bent with the wind, its cold disapproval, sharp and thin.
She carried the weight of every glance, every whisper, every stance.

The hurt was deep, the anger burned, for every judgment, her soul turned.
Poor Anita, for caring too much, for craving warmth in an icy touch.

But yesterday, the tides have changed, her heart unshackled, rearranged.
No longer swayed, no longer thrown, Anita stands steady—strong alone.

The winds may howl, the voices call, but they no longer shake her at all.
She stands tall, unshaken, free— Anita, unbound, just Anita—me.

End of poem.

Indeed, I once craved warmth in fleeting, icy touches—here, there—because ice was what I had known most.

Now, it matters deeply to me to extend warmth—to others and, just as importantly, to myself.

As for those who disapprove of me, so be it. I simply don’t have to engage with those offering me that icy touch. I choose where my energy goes.

anita

It’s mid-day Stream of Consciousness Writing Time, whatever comes to mind:

Nothing comes to mind, then something does, but judged worthless.. not a good beginning.

Let’s try again.

Wait, I just judged the beginning as not good.

Start over: little girl anita felt hurt just now about me judging her thought or thoughts as not good enough for this post.

– I am sorry, little girl anita. It amazes me how much hurt is inside of you. Tell me about it..?

* Why? You will make fun of me if I do!

– No, no. I promised you. I am sorry, it takes a lot to .. I mean, I make mistakes.

* You always tell me that it’s okay to make mistakes.

– Yes, I do say it. Yes. So, it’s okay if I make mistakes?

* Yes, I suppose so, but not too many, not beyond a certain level.

-You are talking like I talk, using big words “beyond a certain level”, not the way a child would talk.

* I guess we are getting confused.

– Confusion in Clarity, Clarity in Confusion.

* You sound like Peter!

– Let’s end this strange post with some clarity!

* Why, Peter says it’s okay to be confused.

– Oh, I see. I am seeking control when it’s not necessary.

* Yes, just let me be.

– I had no idea I was bothering you!

* Wel, you mean well, it’s just that I don’t need to be micromanaged.

– This conversation feels like more than I am prepared for right now.

* My point. Don’t always have to be prepared.

End of (almost) noon time Stream of Consciousness.

anita

no longer congruent with jumping.. or no longer suited to dancing 😊

More: Strange, it’s not about seeking approval, or even acknowledgement. After all, I don’t even know if anyone is reading this… wait, no, wrong: there’s always something I am seeking: connection, more connection.

It is amazing how Emptiness that felt Eternal closes in upon itself, resisting the connection it longed for, for too long.

We people needing each other, yet resisting, pushing each other away.

anita