social media – I am Regina Lynette

I remember knowing about MySpace without fully understanding it. The next thing I recall hearing about was Facebook. And by the time I’d heard about Twitter, I’d fully judged social media as an avenue for the self-absorbed, self-centered, egocentric, pretentious, and self-important to make their presence known. I would think of it as digging through the garbage cans of people’s lives, or as feeding the desperate attention-grabbing attempts of the vapid members of society. When I judge, I go hard in the paint.

Years ago, I was asked at work about my opinions on how we should use Facebook or Twitter for professional updates and I couldn’t offer any insight because I had no experience. This person, both my superior and my elder, was visibly stunned and asked me, “How old are you?” Immediately – literally, immediately – I opened a few accounts. I still had absolutely no interest in social media, but I’d be damned if I wasn’t going to contribute during strategy meetings and be marketable for any other opportunities.

Essentially, I’d bought the idea that social media promotes speaking at the cost of listening. I didn’t articulate it in that way until after watching Michaela Coel’s I May Destroy You, Season/Series One, Episode 9: Social Media Is a Great Way to Connect. That concept struck me and stuck with me for quite a while after the episode aired. Not only did it give me a concise way of articulating how I felt, but it also gave me food for thought as I was designing and creating this blog.

When I decided to disallow comments on my posts in this blog – speaking, perhaps at the cost of listening – it felt true to the purpose of the blog. When I began blogging about Vulnerability, everything was wide open and I got what y’all give – criticism and compliments. And in trusting y’all with my vulnerabilities (the whole point of that journey) I had to take the criticism and the compliments. No, I chose to take the criticism and the compliments. Now that I am blogging about Identity, the whole point is to strip off other people’s labels so I can bask in glory of who I am. So comments are disabled because for over 40 years y’all have been speaking and I have been listening.

The idea of exploring Identity in general, my identity in particular, online feels self-absorbed, self-centered, egocentric, pretentious, and self-important. This blog, this personal journey, is indeed self-absorbed, self-centered, and self-important because I have unilaterally decided that you should know certain intimate things about me as I know and grow to learn about myself. It’s egocentric, and it’s pretentious because, well, who cares about who I am? And the focus of all of it is telling you who I am. No argument there. That is speaking without listening.

Before deciding to write this blog I had been listening to people ask me “why” and “how” about my motivation and drive in certain aspects of my philosophies of life. I’ve been asked in so many words how I manage the cards I’ve been dealt. When I respond, much of what I say calls to question the aspects of my identity. In order to write this blog, when I write I have to decide that I am not speaking at the cost of listening because I listened first and am speaking now. Maybe that’s the right answer. Maybe that’s the wrong answer. I will accept the responsibility of my words, continue to consider what these words mean, and accept the consequences of my words.

I am Regina Lynette. I was listening. Now I’m speaking.

The introduction of all things Internet – email in particular – presented a need to create a handle. Creating a personal email address required the perfect handle and I took some time to make a meaningful choice. This was going to be another name, chosen by me this time, and I wanted it to be one that could describe my identity for eternity. I landed on godzgrl (God’s Girl). I was choosing Christianity for myself so to speak at that time and full of unbridled zest for the religion to be sure to be a living representation of Christianity at its finest, evangelizing by the blessed life it would soon manifest. I’ll leave that there for now.

Between a spiritual crisis of sorts and people’s misunderstanding of the handle – for some reason many went to Godzilla Girl – I decided to find a more suitable handle when opening my social media accounts. I chose the handle WoundedHealer76 for several reasons but the most important is because of what it means.

A Wounded Healer is a person who is compelled to heal others because she herself is wounded. Generally, the Wounded Healer manages to heal others but is unable to heal herself. At the time I took on that name, it fit well. The pain I needed to heal from at the time was emotional. Whenever a pity party felt imminent, the laundry list of all things unfair that I’d suffered during the first 25 years of my life was long. And I had no idea why these things were happening to me. So trying to figure out the existential question, “Why?” with no response (from God), I settled on the next best thing – become a martyr of sorts.

I was sexually abused as a toddler and on and off for 20 years of my life because I was supposed to help victims of sexual abuse. I suffered under the hands of an abusive step-monster while my father emotionally neglected me because I was supposed to become a great parent (or at least a good stepmother). I lost my mother 14 days into my teen years because I was supposed to help young girls grieve their mothers. And I was vigilant when presented with the opportunity to help anyone in this way. Fortunately I know that I truly helped many people. But I remained wounded. I couldn’t find my way out of my own suffering. Nor did it seem like anyone else could help me navigate my way out of my own pain. Thankfully I had enough sense to seek professional help. But as I said, unable to heal myself.

If I wore my name Regina like a diamond tiara, then I wore Wounded Healer like that super cute hat or beautiful wrap/scarf that is hiding unruly hair between whatever treatments and styles you usually wear. It’s cute, like I said, and you are working it, but it’s covering up the imperfections and the secrets and the ugly things. It doesn’t actually resolve anything.

I have tried to release the handle WoundedHealer76 but I just can’t let it go. I no longer believe myself to be a martyr. I accept that there are things in my life that though they happened for a reason, I don’t yet know or understand that reason. Maybe it’ll all make sense in the end. I’m no longer driven to make it purposeful. But as with God’s Girl, Wounded Healer was a perfect name for a season. And as I believe that I am the sum of my life experiences, I will always have a part that is called God’s Girl and a part called Wounded Healer.

I am Regina Lynette. And I have been a Wounded Healer.