Tag: #curveballs

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Recovery Recovering Recover Me from the states I never Asked for….

Drawing excerpt from Elizabeth Gilbert’s new memoir All The Way To The River.

Dear readers….

I consider myself in recovery. Just prior to COVID on the heels of many gains and losses I experienced what some call a Dark Night of the Soul. A loss of self so profound I am still in moments untangling those experiences.

A loss of self I hadn’t even developed yet….

I was a whirling dervish, capable of great chaos and destruction, which of course was my greatest fear.

So when you have become your greatest fear there is nothing to do but face fear itself directly.

Full stop. To my knees. Desperation. Nothing was going the way I thought I wanted it to, and I was in agony.

All of the pain and losses of my life had accumulated to an unbearable roar.

And through this I had to maintain my role as a mental health counselor, a mother, and many others. A balancing act that defies gravity truly.

When in such a situation you find stabilizers, this might be being able to find joy in your first sip of coffee in the morning. It’s important to keep it simple sweetie (kiss) because the things in my thinking were anything but.

Those who know me well know Elizabeth Gilbert is my spiritual mother, an important guiding force in my life. I was fortunate to see her speak in Torrington on Friday at the Warner Theater. I was extra fortunate to get to hug and speak with her before the event. It was lovely.

I had a life changing hug from her in 2018, in a totally different life, as a totally different self….

Now most days I live out apologizes to people who will likely never hear them. I get deeper and deeper into my own labyrinths and they just keep coming. I find I can apologize (take accountability) for so many things when it comes down to it, while simultaneously apologizing less for my very existence than I have ever been able to.

It is a lovely letting go…

I hold so much love in my heart for each and every one of the clients, the soul friends, the family, the persons, for whom I share connectedness with as we each walk our paths.

I am so much more liberated from the sufferings of most of my life and yet I still walk on thorns some of the time. It’s a process.

This morning I sit with my frenchie on my lap, snoring softly, with an entire mound of hours spread before me upon which I could do anything and I am blessed beyond reason.

I am finishing up reading The Map of Consciousness Explained by David Hawkins. I’m also reading Throne of glass, though I haven’t been able to get into it yet. My reading eclectic as always. Trying so many different things at once.

It’s rolling into my favorite time of year. I’m ready to retire my shorts, and don my flannels.

I feel such less desperation for anything. I can’t believe how plagued I was by thoughts attempting to control the uncontrollable. I am content these days to allow reality to unfold and to bear witness, rather than constantly being in a full suit of armor brandishing my sword.

My desires are to listen, to think clearly, to bestow a love I grow daily on those who would seek refuge in it in a sincere and authentic way.

I am attempting a full surrender as a person who has often burnt hot with drive.

I’m just figuring this out one day at a time.

So as I hopefully start writing in here more often I am excited to “rebrand”, though I have nothing to sell here.

To begin again over and over….and not mind a single moment of it…..

Love always,

C

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Turning Points

Listening to Pink and Teddy Swims this am.

Good morning ! Saturday is the new Sunday for me I guess since now having weekends off. Sunday is like a bonus day.

This morning I’m thinking about turning points. Those places in your life where a new self emerged. Was it subtle or did it strike like lightning?

Then a line: I want to be your favorite writer, but first I need to be mine.

I’m still figuring out what this blog is going to look like. Following a dark night of the soul and a re-birth. I find myself quiet a lot more, until I’m not. On those occasions where I feel safe and seen and my chatter box child self comes out to play. She does much more these days.

I know too much and yet integrating it into a practice of peacefulness rather than a vicious hypervigilant intellectualization process, has been necessary.

I have a bulldog sleeping on my lap. Bodhi. I never thought I’d have one again. I was too afraid to love again. Which is not like me. But sometimes something is so scathing it’s hard to come back from. In the end I’m glad I took the time I needed to heal and grieve because the fruit of this love is oh so sweet now.

And yet I still emerge having regrets about words I said and ways I managed my emotions at the time. Now however I can also have compassion for myself and recognize being put in impossible situations and still expecting myself to act well. Unfair, unrealistic.

I have cleaned my life out of anyone who doesn’t consider my emotional security in addition to seeing me. Not as a parent, but as a human being. No constant coddling, but in a reasonable manner.

My reactivity is much less and that helps me continue to see my path clearly and have many less blurred lines between me and any other, which affords me a freedom I never had before.

Freedom from the constant hunger for love….

Instead I am love, and love is reflected back to me in everything. A loaf of sourdough, a hug from my kids, a gentle breeze, the first sip of coffee, a cozy hoodie, a fresh haircut, a bite of an in season fruit…..

Life gets more and more delicious and I also have heartbreaks that never seem to mend. The scars still burning and pink. Having this humbles me and makes me grateful for every kind smile from a stranger. It makes me live differently.

With unimaginable loss comes incredible wisdom.

And with that I choose to walk with wounded others and apply what salve I can.

This is the way I choose to live my life.

Seeking more knowledge but not desperately, peacefully.

The kids and I will walk to the farmers market today…. Maybe bring the bulldog, maybe not ha. A break might be nice.

I was gifted Melissa Etheridge tickets, I’m going to see Elizabeth Gilbert soon, it’s been awhile, and My Fair Lady….

I’m out in the world, and also happily alone a lot of the time. I never knew how much of that I needed until I did. It’s ok to miss me. I miss me too a lot of times.

It’s an interesting place to be able to see every regret you’ve ever had, without going into a spiral about it. Just a witness. And all of mine are ways I spoke to people I loved, and choices I made that hurt others more than they had to because of the way I wasn’t connected to myself.

I deal with freeze and fawn responses especially much more than I would like. And I’m also emerging out of that into self expression. Right on track with my healing path.

I am a living apology which is very different than purgatory, and I write love letters that will never be read to those who in their absence I can remember the good.

But never again will I live in a fantasy over reality.

Life is all that exists only in the present moment, that’s it. What you can see touch and feel. No bargaining, no crying out for what doesn’t show up. If it’s there it’s there. If it’s not it’s not. Keep it simple sweetie.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m too isolated career wise, but then I think of how normal it is for me to seek something wrong when there isn’t.

“You can see when you’re wrong, but you can’t always see when you’re right.”

I have a tendency to romanticize rather than fully allow myself to experience what’s right in front of me. I think that’s the writer in me. So as long as I’m allowing myself creative freedom, I’m fine just fine….

This morning I’m basking in my office. In the comfort and warmth of all I’ve created with my own unique story of returning home to love, mine….

Stay tuned 💜🫶🏼

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Heaven and Hell at Times Exist All at Once

Lost in the rush but I pray you don’t hurt too much …..

How many years was I going to spend in an irritable disconnected state even after I’d done so much work to choose differently. Stuck in that state. It’s like the new software never uploaded, and I was the last to know.

I needed a reflection that wasn’t distorted, to be able to understand my true self differently.

I’m always trapped inside my fucking head on and on and on….

Last night I had to tell the Little Prince he needs to find his own place by 30 days time. Excruciating. Everyone says it’s the right thing. My heart says of course it’s not.

No man left behind. And I never have, not really. I can see now that if I was met even halfway with effort it would have gotten figured out. I’ve only ever left people who weren’t able to show up for themselves, and I never stopped loving them.

One of the most egregious of my self misunderstandings. That I wasn’t loving or lovable.

Devastating. It has harmed so many years of my life.

Saving myself was never anything to do with love.

We all need our stories until we are ready to confront them.

As in many dysfunctional family systems no man is left behind. Blood is thicker than water. I have to separate this from the cord cutting I’ve done with toxic situations and place it in the healthy boundaries category. That’s not easy.

What’s the difference anyway? There is one, and I can almost feel it now. Can you feel it?!

I’m listening to Lewis Capaldi today, he was a frequent during one of the darkest times of my life. His voice goes straight to my bones, like Pink, lady Gaga, Adele, and so many others. Straight to my core. Comfort.

Emotional identification and then manipulation of self and other ensues. You must be able to separate and look at things objectively too. A step outside, some rationality included. Who knew? No one taught me that.

So I learned to teach myself. No victim stories, only tales of survival becoming thriving.

A vibrant life!

I can step back now and the obfuscation dwindles. What a difference. You wouldn’t even recognize it. You couldn’t unless you’ve learned it. Less splitting, integration. Integrity.

Even the dust of emotional manipulation, the residue makes me ill on contact. It’s a way of life untangling my own. That’s what I was trying to do.

I thought that’s what you wanted too.

I was wrong.

I’ve been wrong so many times, but I no longer sweat that the same.

Mistakes are the portals to discovery.

I’m finally taking all the scraps and quilting. Threads to the tapestry.

At least I had the courage to make them, or the naïve dissociation, I guess probably both.

So before you go…. Was there something…..it kills me how your mind can make you feel so worthless. I was the storm to weather.

It has subsided to pure presence. So many less triggers. I can breathe now. It’s a different life again, and there’s no fault in it.

Only accountability.

Change and learning.

I am still learning

I will always be learning

Always

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Gentle and Fierce

My mind is fierce yet I am determined to keep my heart gentle. My experiences were fierce and I’ve been determined my whole life to stay soft. It’s a constant battle.

My grief is not gentle, it is fierce.

I become fierce in groundlessness.

Fiercely overwhelmed.

Everything is overwhelming right now, and I wasn’t supposed to be doing any of this alone.

I’m allowed to not want to be and I was allowed to try for love in all the ways I did with all the needs I had.

My life and myself evolving too quickly to keep up. Many disjointed parts out of alignment. Sometimes I feel like a bag of broken glass. My second to last energy healing she spoke about seeing shards of glass and beautiful light and something about them coming together and a friend recently spoke about a kaleidoscope and mosaics have been coming up for me.

When I look out over even this past year I have an extraordinary life.

I always set out for that and I have one.

I have deep and enduring friendships that mean the world to me. Some new and some old, but all of them incredibly meaningful. I look at all the pictures of my tears, roads I have walked, my smiles, excursions, moments with my kids, this home. It’s a full life surrounded by love.

From within and without.

Perspective is a soothing balm to the open wounds all throughout me right now. Attachment fractures that feel like fault lines that can erupt at any moment. It feels terrible to be so acutely aware of this. The pain is unbearable at times. Almost all the time right now with glimpses of peace.

I just went through an intense period of “seeing red” I call it, threat everywhere, the intrusive thoughts get so loud I can’t hear any security. This will all be taken from you in a thousand horrible ways, bad things will happen, you are the bad thing, you had no business being born, you tarnished the family reputation, fix your mother, go soothe her, be quieter good little girls play with their paper dolls in the corner, children are meant to be seen and not heard. Why are you so….., let’s play the quiet game, all of ways you are inadequate. These weren’t complexes these were my actual beginnings. So much threat.

I work hard to calm these thoughts, and I fill my life with the opposite as one means of doing so. Pursuits that are worthwhile, but when there is no relaxation of the kind I need, those struggle too.

I am adjusting slowly but surely. It’s hard to collect my thoughts right now. That’s the worst thing. My nervous system is in overdrive all the time and I’m looking to connect to the things that used to calm it, and unfortunately these days that makes it worse.

Alone is a trigger for me I am finding.

I am capable of being alone. I’ve been very alone in so many ways. I’m allowed to not be I cry out. But I made this choice and here I am.

I don’t want to be figuring out the reorganization of my home alone. I never wanted that. That was not the plan. But these are the consequences of my choices. So I’ll take the hits, they feel like they just keep coming. I can’t breathe.

My grief is not calm and gentle it is fierce.

Being back at this place again. It’s like the ground hog day from hell. That movie is kind of appropriate actually. He’s an asshole until he gets it. His day repeats over and over until he becomes a different person and appreciates everything differently, and then the cycle is finally over. Intelligent writer there.

Something broke open last week, I hit a wall of awareness, or rather it hit me in the face during a therapy session with my daughters. I don’t want to be this snarling and snapping thing, it’s not natural for me, and nothing, and I mean nothing is worth losing yourself.

I have felt unworthy most of my life to connect with my children, so scared I would harm them, that I busied myself doing everything I could do well to keep them safe in so many ways. I didn’t even want them to see I didn’t know how to connect.

And as I wade daily through the stories of others the struggle became normalized. I recognized my own humanity in everyone else’s and reattached to myself in a slow painful process.

I remember my first energy healing. I could hardly be touched. I laid on that table struggling to be vulnerable and just breathe when so much rose up in my body. It was so defended. I remember her saying she couldn’t go anywhere near my heart, that it was too guarded and my mind was swarming like a hive. It’s so painful. If you had any idea what the moments of calm and gentle mean.

So that’s exactly what I’m attempting to become, with myself, and with my children. I hold on for dear life. Hold my breath and clench everything to survive. Then I spend all my time trying to undo that, to deal with the effects. The migraines, the pain, and the only thing soothing is safe adult presence preferably in the form of nurturing and attentive partnering with a good balance of give and take. I’ve long known this is the secret to a happy life. We are meant to be connected, and it certainly is for me. It feels a cruel joke the vulnerabilities that lie within in me with regard to that. The ones I’ve had to painfully uncover layer by layer, so I could be known to myself.

And now I’m supposed to like what I see and believe anyone else could ? The tasks asked of me seem impossible most days.

Am I a samurai sword ? Being beaten into submission so I can be what?! A weapon of truth? I’d rather be a beacon of light, peace, and warmth. How can one so fierce also be that ?

It’s all too much sometimes.

A screenshot from long ago stands out in my mind, it was our relationship can be unnecessarily intense at times. This coming from a person who held all the cards and the control and had me dangling on a wire. And you have the nerve to assess or speak about my behavior in the midst of deception and manipulation. How dare you make me the problem when I showed up and you didn’t. When I show up without excuses no matter the pain and cost to me.

Also that she would ask what I was doing, anxious about my whereabouts more than how I was doing. Yuck.

I’ve been shamed for the impact of my trauma in a variety of ways my entire life, and most people truly didn’t know what they were doing. They saw behavior as behavior and couldn’t or wouldn’t look deep. Looking deeper has become my life’s work.

Will anyone ever look deeper into me and stay ?

And will I stop trying to do that in the wrong situations and choose the healthy ones?

Stay tuned

Ps my last energy healing my heart was open and she put her hand over it awhile.

My heart was open.

My heart is open. That’s why it’s so painful.

It’s happening in my therapy sessions and I’m reconnecting with my kids and friends and appreciating differently. Don’t let the intense emotional moments shared fool you, it is happening. My first energy healing she had put her hands under my back and I recoiled and tensed but she didn’t stop, I thought she would, I worried about her having to feel all that pain. I didn’t want her to. My body screamed don’t hold me, but she stayed, and I softened, and my grief poured out of me, down the sides of that table, and back into the earth to be recycled. That day was a beginning in many ways. I sobbed and I thought she would say it was too intense or let’s stop, that I would be shamed again, that it would be too much, that I was too much.

What is too much is what I have endured in my life the danger and the loneliness and what legacy that has left me with to clean up.

It’s still extraordinary…..

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Loyalty and acts of God

Someone once told me if you have my loyalty it would take an act of God to break it. 

I’m thinking about those words today. 

I am thinking about how I fancied myself to be the same, and about how once certain circumstances collided that did not stand up. 

We all want to see ourselves a certain way. Having integrity, who we want to be, and then we all have circumstances, or maybe I will call it our own personal story, that often has aspects we are blind to. These can lead us to behave as we never thought we could or head down roads we never expected before. 

Most of us don’t like to admit this, but if we don’t it can’t get any oxygen. What isn’t acknowledged cannot be healed. That will always be the case.

That’s why I am always trying to talk things out, if I can’t hear myself say them, or I can’t read them on the page, I’ll continue to operate with these templates that are often outdated, and end up causing a lot of suffering.

Lately I’m having a really difficult time sorting out between who I am, who I want to be and what my path is. Maybe that could just be chalked up to a lack of trust in myself. And that I know beyond a shadow of a doubt I require a trusting relationship with myself above all things. I desperately want to place the responsibility for this in somebody else’s hands, for someone to come along and save me from myself. Paradoxically this is bizarre because I’ve always saved myself, I guess that’s why I’m so tired. But it’s not really saving we want, it’s faith in who we are. How do you ever get that when survival has been the primary concern, but you’re so good it doesn’t even look that way. 

Oh the disconnect of how things look on the outside to how they are on the inside. I always aspire for those to be in alignment, but then still get dazzled by seeing what appears to be for others, that never seems to be for me.

I have been thinking a lot lately about this idea of being legitimate and what constructs we need for things to feel that way. Are all the customized paraphernalia from major life events, rings, vows…. are those enough?! What do they mean even. But if you never have any sense of these things, whether they be traditions or events, then how do you define security. 

Oh elusive security. Scrambling for it outside and inside all at once is quite the chaos. Trust me, I know a little about this. Then you have The Little Prince and his fox and existential philosophy and Pink Floyd who says all you’ll touch and all you’ll see is all your life will ever be. Moments of impact as Channing Tatum says in the Vow. And so much noise about what it means to love anr be loved and what that is supposed to look like. 

If you have the courage to create your own you’ll never know whether you’re doing it right or not, but you can be sure others will put in their two cents whether they have been inside your whole story or not. This can cause a lot of suffering. What if we dared to love people anyway, for their whole story, not just the chapter you arrived on. 

Who am I loyal to? Am I loyal to myself? Do we ask that question enough. I think what does required an act of God, or God as you know him as they say, is breaking through the various shames imparted on us by a society that doesn’t even know our story. 

Personal stories are so important to understand. That is always the goal for me and I am always interested in a persons story. Always. It’s a huge part of my identity. And right now I am trying to piece mine together in a way that makes sense and is an accurate representation of the truth, with barely any of my own memory. 

There’s that lack of trust again, a worthy opponent. I won’t be giving up anytime soon. 

Stay tuned….

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Yale Schmale: Ivf Horror Story

If something doesn’t feel right it probably isn’t. Bottom line. We have had a terrible experience with Yale Reproductive Center. I don’t even want to walk back through those doors. And despite what this will be chalked up to this is not just an emotional meltdown grasping for something to blame in grief. I know all about that. I’m a mental health counselor. This is about trust. You trust a doctor because you think they know more than you, but what was missing here is that they did not care nearly (if any) about us. I’ve felt this way for a long time, but since I wanted to keep my eye on the prize and “stay positive”, like everyone tells you…. I stayed quiet. I stayed quiet through the many alarms going off in my head. My hunch is even our IUI’s could have been planned better and paid more attention to.

I think if they communicated and paid attention then we would have a baby right now. I believe that with my whole heart because of the many evidences of them not knowing what was going on with anything.

And I already know what they can and will do. They will cover up for negligence by the fact we are clearly just emotional. That’s what will happen here. That’s how large medical practices get away with things all the time.

So here is our story:

Worst experience I’ve ever had with a medical institution. You are a number. You see a different “fellow” every time, and your “doctor” one or two times. In my opinion we would have been pregnant long before if anyone in this place communicated with one another. I’m sure you could and then will chalk this up to being in a painful emotion. But that’s minimizing what actually happened here. How many irresponsible things happening with our time, our money, and our hearts.

From not knowing our correct protocol, and if I wasn’t on top of it we would have started taking incorrect medicine. To the fact that the offices terrible communication led to a decision about frozen or fresh transfer to be made immediately while I was seeing clients back to back. The woman called back and asked my wife (I’m a woman we are gay) if she wanted to talk to her husband. We have been patients of yours for over a year, you’re handling the future of our baby and our joy here, and you don’t know who we are?

Then let’s get into the back and forth over frozen or fresh transfer. It’s appearing now that we should have done frozen and we think someone set it up because that was best, but another person said it was borderline. In the end the morning of it took a long time for everyone to get on the same page. We never spoke to our actual doctor at all about this, again a melange of 1st, 2nd, and 3rd year fellows.

I am not a doctor and I was concerned about the high thyroid levels that spiked with the fertility medications, the ones that we tried so hard to get down prior to trying to conceive. Our thyroid checks were not stayed on top of throughout, because no one speaks to each other.

We get a report in the beginning of mono diamniotic twin pregnancy, we are cautious as it’s early. And nervous because it’s higher risk and we know that. We go back in and it appears there is one sac and a hematoma on the other side of the membrane, we are possibly a twin down and we went in for heavy bleeding. At this time we see a tiny heartbeat and are given hope, sent home with a picture of our baby. No one said what I was thinking the whole time. If one twin goes because of a chromosome abnormality and they are identical the other is going. Was it too early to know these things. Sure. Should we have been fully spoken to by our doctor, a full experienced doctor about the risks. The heartbeat was 110, the bottom of the scale, it was on its way out too and yet we went home excited and the staff encouraged that. No one said be cautious and specifics about the mono di.

In fact no other resident even mentioned the twin situation. An actual doctor dr Pal, did the first ultrasound and gave us real info, including how early to tell. We aren’t stupid, but it’s the most questions I had answered the whole time. She did not check on us when we had bleeding, she did not check on us at all.

At this time we were told to come back 3 days later on a Monday to check things. My wife called to make the appointment and they said they didn’t have anything til Thursday. Again if we were told to come for bleeding where is the follow through.

This fertility clinic is the do it yourself variety. This is the target self checkout and if there is an error you better know how to fix it yourself. I have so many questions, so many anxieties, my wife and this baby we want to have are my world. I’m not a number. I’m a human.

So the set up was one baby was ok with a heartbeat and the bleeding stopped fully and we got excited again. And when she went to the ultrasound I was on FaceTime because I’m trying to provide and it’s just an early one. I had been at every other appointment no matter how small. But this one my wife’s twin went with her and I was on FaceTime. I got to hear our baby has no heart beat and probably hasn’t in a week from another different doctor over a screen before my 3 pm client. Again no word from dr Pal. We should have stopped progesterone a week ago so my wife and I could get on with our grief, and we would have known that if they talked to each other and prioritized our Monday appointment. We had just had bleeding. No one cared whatsoever.

Yale gets picked for its name. And I think they have forgotten real human values. It’s a machine, and contrary to their words to dismiss my many concerns they are not “a well oiled machine.” I will never affiliate myself with this group again.

My wife was sent home with a hat to collect our dead baby in and a specimen cup, and a two sided pamphlet about support groups. No word any of the way through our miscarriage from the actual experienced doctor.

The only comfort there are the few gems of nurses we will remember fondly in our hearts. The ones who get it. Doctors became arrogant and lost, and I just plan to learn from that. That I’m not too important to sit with a human and talk to them fully about what they are feeling and going through.

We will be just a statistic to them, an angry customer clearly clouded by grief, but they have a legacy with us.

We will be seeking out a space to share our very intimate fertility journey with people who genuinely show us the attention we deserve when they are getting thousands of our dollars, and holding our hope in their hands. There is a way you treat people and this was not it.

We will not be walking back through the doors of Yale fertility! There is a reason their reviews are terrible. I am so disappointed and hurt with the lack of care we have received.

I will never again put our care in the hands of someone who is an expert in medicine that isn’t also an expert in caring about the individual.

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Tea cups….

I should never be trusted with soft and luxurious white hooded sweatshirts! They never stay without stains.

We lost a twin today. How does one even feel about that? I’m supposed to be happy we see one heartbeat right ? This has been such a roller coaster I’m just swirling around in a tea cup ride of emotions. The whole rest of the world is a blur. If the other one makes it to term will it feel like something is missing it’s whole life? I’m quite sure I’ll be told to think positively etc, but are real human feelings actually negative or are they just feelings? These are mine either way.

I am waiting to decide how to feel.

And we are also waiting to see if the rest of the pregnancy is ok. We did see a tiny heartbeat today. A glimmer. My intelligent mind fears the fact that if the genes are identical and one didn’t make it, that logically the pregnancy is in trouble.

And my heart hopes.

But what this blog post is really about is the first thought that plagues me as we haven’t been able to get pregnant for so long and now this.

This is unnatural, it’s a sin, and we are being punished. It’s against God. We are two women we shouldn’t be having a baby.

I know I don’t hold these beliefs and if there is a God, ours loves us too. I know that, but I have to fight so hard to feel that way.

I’ve forced myself to treat myself as normal as anyone else. To bravely announce proudly everywhere I go I have a wife. One day I just got tired enough of feeling like a bad person in so many ways for being gay. For breaking up a family, for hurting my kids, and their dad and his family.

Eventually all that responsibility just got too heavy for one person to hold.

I cracked open into fearless courage. It became necessary. It was a natural evolution to how deeply I harmed myself with negative thoughts about myself for so long. I tried to beat the gay out of myself. I would have done anything. I tried everything.

I think I’ve been in denial. I’ve built such a strong outward presentation for myself, that I’ve ignored the sting of my minority status.

I don’t speak to my mother. Guilt. I’ve been divorced twice. Guilt. I’ve put my feelings and needs before my children’s at times. Guilt. I can make deep connections but almost all of my early ones are severed. Guilt. I’m fucking gay. Guilt. I have a million thoughts. Guilt. I talk a lot. I am big and enthusiastic and open.

More Guilt.

I am guilty of being in denial.

I am denying the fact that if just in one aspect life could feel any easier for me for one second. If my family could walk down the street and have people look at us like a thing of stability and beauty, like the majority of families are already guaranteed. Instead of wondering who will whisper or become nervous around us.

I forced myself long ago to be so out and so proud, that I’ve been hiding in my comfortable life not advocating for those who aren’t as lucky yet.

I shouldn’t have to work at feeling normal should I?

So because we are gluttons for punishment we ate food we didn’t taste, shed tears we didn’t feel, and went and saw Boy Erased. It was intensely emotional.

After the movie I wonder why I don’t specialize in LGBT clients. I mean I never wanted to be pigeon holed to one population, but now I’m wondering if I would have just felt like a fraud. How can I help someone with something I still haven’t figured out.

Why is my first thought of us not being able to get pregnant and the potential of losing this one that it’s not the way things are supposed to be.

Why am I stuck with a belief in my head that’s not my own?

He’s the Boy Erased, and I’m the Girl in your Face…..

and the tea cup spins.

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Jack of all trades master of …. solar hopefully.

It’s a rainy and blustery Saturday. Flash flood warnings are in effect. As usual I have my morning line up of clients. I’m excited this morning to write something fresh, something not weighted by motherly confusions and stresses. That storm has broken somewhat for now. While there are still lessons being taught, notes home from teachers, and emotional waves to ride as my young charges learn about the world, there is greater peace at this time. So I can exhale and write!

Our dear best friend Kate is an extraordinary human being. She has just about the biggest heart I have ever seen, and I know it’s size because it sits always squarely on her sleeve. Also she recognizes the soul in my wife, and came with her as if as a two for one special. We love her. The last couple of years of her life her mission has been Solar Slaying as we call it.

Door to door sales?! Intimidating?! I should say so. Funny because I love to talk to people and about 4 years ago a different Solar slayer staked me. I have saved money ever since. However I think of how predatory I feel when someone tries to interrupt my rare and valuable home time, and especially as a highly sensitive person I balk a bit. I am the last person who wants to bother someone. So I am thinking my hope is to rely heavily on word of mouth and networking.

I could sell ice to an Eskimo (if and this is a big one I believe in what I am doing). I’ve sold cars for Nissan, dealt cards at a casino, worked in gyms, restaurants, been a veterinarian’s assistant, kennel tech at a pet store, worked at The Picture People. Red Robin, Red Lobster, Gap, Blockbuster Video, Country Clubs, Uber and Lyft. The list goes on and on.

As a Counselor I am still selling myself. I can help you improve your everyday experiences in this life just by talking to me once a week. It’s still sales and because I believe in it wholeheartedly it’s an easy sell.

So now I have been called up by my enthusiasm for new experiences. Life is the grand buffet and my appetite is voracious. Also buying that cottage we want and paying off my student loans before our new baby would be really nice, not to mention three college tuitions to help pay for, prom and everything in between.

The ever present battle to need to hustle, when inside I feel like an older person (I always picture Gandalf the Grey, too much?) who wants her slippers, recliner, and a great book.

I love to learn new things, and inevitably learning a new skill and trying my hand at it teaches me about myself in a new way. My enthusiasm precedes my energy level often, and yet it also keeps me young. It’s all a matter of perspective.

So here I am on the precipice of neon orange colored dry fit, and racing to win Nike products. My good intentions in my brief case, armed with the info of all the money I’ve saved with my own solar on my own home.

Fears: that this is yet another distraction from writing my book. It is either not ready to be written, or will never be ready because I won’t believe in myself to invest the time. Or I can’t sit and write as if I do not need to be hustling to take care of my priorities first. I’ve been in a financial hole I will never dig out of enough to relax if I don’t find a loophole to get ahead in a big way. Are You My Mother ? Reads, is this it?!

Or if I sell the solar to buy the cottage to write the book that’s been burning and churning inside. Can I turn our stars around? Can we take a real vacation? Can we all go see Hamilton together as a family, rather than only being able to afford two tickets and disappointing my children.

Or will this venture just bring me further away from my family as I work relentlessly, because let’s face it if you place a challenge in my path that’s what I do. Look at all this brainstorming I have to do because once again I didn’t win Mega Millions, or Powerball or whatever it was. I didn’t play FYI.

At heart I am a gambler, and I’m also a person who doesn’t want to change in ways I couldn’t possibly anticipate by becoming that wealthy so swiftly. I tend to know ahead of time some of the greater pitfalls in life. Which means I know right here right now, struggling to pay the bills at home enjoying my family, is probably the happiest I’ll ever be. But my dreams are just so large and so relentless. The pursuit of them is one of the greatest aspects of my story.

So to end; my sad disclaimer that I’m already shriveling in fear that it will discredit my authenticity if you have ever wanted a solar assessment on your home, I work for Vivint now, and contact me to set up an appointment. And maybe you’ll end up getting some free counseling and wisdom as a freebie LOL!

Christina Lawler, Solar Slayer II the protégée at your service. 203-623-4373. Also ask all your friends about solar and give them my number.

Gimme all the solar swag! Put me in coach I’m ready to play!

It begs the questions, biting off more than I can chew always? Always beginning a new adventure and never staying still, or best move I will have ever made for our family?

Stay Tuned….

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Keep going…. into the fire…

I woke up this morning feeling closer to the ground I want to stand on with my ex-husband. This is what happens when you dig into the wound. When you hunt around for the splinters even as you wince and wonder if you just let the skin grow over it they won’t just stay mildly uncomfortable forever, but at least you won’t have to suffer this intensely.

He is not a threat, these feelings that rise are the threat. The threat here is the pain from still wanting to be seen favorably by him. I can still see his face that day he asked me to marry him. I can still picture the day we held our son for the first time. He knew a little girl me, that no one else in my life now knows anymore. He has pieces of my story no one else ever will. And the tears come. My divorce still hurts. And it isn’t supposed to right ?! I’m gay, and I’ve moved forward. But I can’t ever get back those firsts with that man, they are embedded in my story forever. And I choose whether they are splinters, or protective layers I honor because they are part of me. I don’t want them to be splinters anymore. He wasn’t a mistake, and I wasn’t either, and our children are amazing. We still made them, no matter how much I move forward that’s still a truth.

I still want to be seen favorably as we all long for. I want to be seen for my best parts, as we all do, but I think lacking a core family perhaps makes this a more desperate need in me. I wanted to move forward and keep my home base. Was this really so wrong ? If you had seen my whole life would you really fault me for this? And he saw it as no one else did, and has blocked those parts, because to continue to see me favorably only prevents him from moving forward.

Human beings have to tell a story they can live with to be able to move forward. Otherwise it’s nearly unbearable, especially for the deeply feeling. A gift from my life is that I always chose good people. I had seen so many bad, that this was a priority. So each time I held on tightly and then realized I still had places I needed to go, I internalized all that responsibility for the hurt. I was the bad guy I never wanted to be, rather than someone who wanted a safe home base and to also explore the world. The problem was my only model for a safe home base was in romantic partnership. I had my wires crossed. How else was I supposed to obtain that intense closeness I always yearned for. I wanted stability, but I couldn’t be stable.

That is the code I cracked for this relationship. Through being a counselor I heal right along with my clients. I found a self that was safe in herself, finally, what I had been desperately seeking. Along my way here people thought it was them I was wanting and needing. That must have felt intoxicating. To be so needed by another. Of course I was charming, that always was my true self, but I couldn’t maintain it if it wasn’t real. If it was a self I was trying on, but couldn’t keep. Because I would get scared and lost again, and then move quickly forward leaving my feelings, and my ex partners to wonder what happened,

Except now I could explain this whole thing, and have tried, but by now their own work keeps them needing a boundary against me, and what I have to learn is that we did have meaningful time, that wasn’t just erased by the ending. The whole story isn’t ruined by the ending. I truly believe that.

Can’t they forgive me for what I didn’t know then? Didn’t they know me well enough to see through clear lenses after?

I still love him, that is the problem. I wouldn’t get so hurt if I didn’t. Hate and love are from the same point of origin, they are both love. You have to love someone to hate them.

Not in the way both of us had hoped when we created new lives together. He stays in his feelings. I had to disconnect from mine enough to move forward. Doesn’t mean I don’t have them, doesn’t mean his way is better.

I’ve tried to write him long letters explaining my growth. Each is received first as too long, that is always pointed out. You’re too much Christina, because that’s not a trigger. Because that’s not THE trigger. And then regardless of the truth I have laid out on the page it is ignored.

True feelings and vulnerability were my weapon of choice against so many confusing realities. If I shout my truth out loud I’ll have to live up to it. I’ll force myself to not comfort at the expense of anyone around me. Very few of us are always our best selves are we ?! Did I somehow miss this mark other people are capable of? Or am I just more honest about it?

The truth is I had such a deficit of comfort that the first half of my life was spent almost solely in that pursuit. I picture myself for a long time, and when I got diagnosed with Crohn’s Disease after fighting so hard for a better life it felt like a death sentence. It cost me a marriage and a partnership again, the dark place I ended up in.

And again all along the way were people shaming me for seeking comfort. My own father sizing me up as “daughter your Facebook posts reflect some frightening mental states lately, not unlike your mother .” If he wasn’t there for much of the journey, completely inexplicably, then I wasn’t going to allow him to add insult to abandonment. Our journey knowing one another ended there, again. Abandoned again, after the warmth of hope had crept in. This has wandered to another blog post.

My conclusion: I won’t get as triggered if I don’t seek, expect, hope, crave, beg for understanding from those who don’t have it to give. For they are at another place in their journey. Perhaps where I was long ago, just needing comfort. He is still hurting and I would persecute him for what? Being mad at me?!

Hate is just love in another costume.

To be continued …..witness my pain and my process, weaving in and out of truth and understanding, sitting with my feelings. I’m not going anywhere this time. As my own parent I won’t abandon me when I’m not my best self. I am my person.

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Frozen in time… just like our donor Sperm

What does an excessively driven/determined person do at a 14 day post intrauterine insemination negative pregnancy test ? Ha say that five times fast.

Did I mention this was the third round overall? Did I mention before we could start it was awaiting the thyroid level each month? I guess we have been at this longer than I realized.

She obsesses of course. Finding every bit of tangible evidence that we still could be pregnant. Some people don’t get their positive until day 18 or so, but that’s probably not with for sure predicting of ovulation like we have with IUI. The clinic said test today and if negative to stop progesterone. Go to Jail, do not pass GO, do not collect $200, you are failing at the game of life. No cute little blue or pink figures to stick gleefully in your car.

And she writes to cope of course.

Except she can barely write because she can barely focus on anything else. Thankfully as a Clinician she is drawn out of her own mind naturally during session and at least has that break.

Ok that’s enough third person. Third, third, third…. no charm here, not today. Stay positive they say. The stork is on the way.

I’m starting to get hard on myself. Christina are you always going to find something to be unhappy about? Three teenagers, two dogs, a career you adore, and healthy and happy love. Am I allowed even to want more? Or to have the emotions I do right now? Therapist says of course you are. Human says don’t you dare, it will hurt too much. You’ll get too caught up in them, and then what.

Don’t get down because stress inhibits pregnancy, don’t drink coffee, don’t have processed sugar, don’t exercise too hard….. Make sure you sleep enough, eat healthy… and my head spins. Hyper focus and it’ll be more likely.

Superstitions abound.

Does this mean we are meant to foster and adopt? Of course I know my wife wants to grow her own baby in her belly. It tears at me when the emotions finally hit and she bursts into tears. I fool myself into thinking I’m the strong one in this scenario. Just because I can hold my emotions hostage with much more command, an ability I never asked for.

I recall being witness to another’s journey of this variety and my well meaning and with little understanding advice at that time. I remember feeling a tad critical of their sharing with me that they couldn’t be around happy pregnant women. And here I am not even able to look at my FB feed because there are just fucking babies everywhere. It hurts doesn’t it? Oops.

It’s only three rounds I try to tell myself. I try for perspective seeing people have to try for years. But we are using science and spending a hell of a lot of money. Guilt. Another rub of not being how “God intended” of course. I don’t even ascribe to that belief and yet by now it attempts to leak in.

Can I ever just be still and happy? Couldn’t we have just honeymooned ? Be enjoying our love? Why do I drive so hard? Why is this so important when often it feels hard to connect with the children I’ve got. Why are we bringing a child into a world like this? Only to struggle and await the many impending disasters? I’m already overwhelmed at the drop of a hat. What am I doing ? And is it the negative result that makes me feel this way? That must be the sadness, frustration, and pain talking.

Because in clearer moments I know exactly my heart and what it wants and deserves. Why do we get so nasty with ourselves, so unfair?

I’ve been sick the past couple of days, and I know that isn’t helping. Sky high irritability, dizziness, and a variety of uncomfortable symptoms. I’m too driven even to be sick. It is just who I am. Do I have to make myself wrong for everything?

Be still Christina. Stay…..

Broken hearts heal…. and you will get your baby. Be patient….. I’ve never been patient. Does this mean this is my fault, and I’ve brought this upon us? Will I always function at a frenzied pace? Is this a fault?

Life brings you to your knees so you are forced to find faith in something. Faith in myself is always the lesson needed.

Stay…..