Tag: #memoir

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When Stories are Told in Safe Spaces Shame Dies

All of these lines across my face…tell you the story of who I am, so many stories of where I’ve been and how I got to where I am. But these stories don’t mean anything when you’ve got no one to tell them to. It’s true I was made for you.

Being loved is overwhelming….

This is my realization this morning.

This is why I have chosen partners that were not capable of healthy love in one way or another, and I wasn’t either.

Would I always have unbalanced love outside, and frozen love inside ?

I’m just beginning to be able to see the light at the end of that tunnel.

And it’s scary to be 41 years old, I almost said 42, I always round up. I guess so I’m already prepared. So much of my life is geared around being prepared, for anything. It’s scary to be 41 years old and feel like an infant at times, that vulnerable, because everything is new. I’ve never been this self before.

“I’m not the explosion guy”, that’s my father.” I think of Silver Lining Playbook. The pain that’s involved in families where a member had an unidentified mental illness or personality disorder. The shame and pain that passes through the generations. No treatment. No relief.

No relief. Let those words land.

Just shouldering those burdens trying to look and be normal. Swallowing it down. I get so angry with the injustice of that. The silenced pleas for help in the form of various “negative” behaviors in children and they just internalize and absorb it into themselves and become sick. Which looks like defiant, odd, impulsive, and a whole range of other things.

Then exiled from others because they don’t fit.

Understanding is the salve that heals. I apply it generously in my office. Often while having so many unknowns on my shoulders. Feeling like a small mistake could cost an entire life. Anxiety often weaves that tale. Sometimes the stakes feel so high, and then I have to readjust to “I can only do my best.” That’s been a game changer.

I don’t have peoples lives in my hands, I have their possibility of healing in them. The choices I make can impact their healing, but my role is not enough to stop the results of a lifetime of suffering if the train is already blurring down the tracks. I can’t stop a bullet, but I can apply a vest.

When you grow up feeling responsible for everything, and utterly by yourself it becomes difficult later in life to know what’s yours and what isn’t. A major task of therapy.

A major task of mine…..

I had a 20 k client day yesterday. Sometimes it goes so deep and so heavy, that one day feels like a week. I’m in a daze and don’t even know what day it is.

I do know I bring my whole heart and I lay my energy on the front line daily; and though I may never have a hero’s celebration. Let’s be honest I would probably squirm with discomfort. I need to learn to celebrate myself and what I do, and pause. I can’t always just keep going, but tell my mind that.

There’s a community that lost a teenager to suicide a couple of weeks back, and it haunts me. The pain of those affected haunts me. The intrusive thoughts when I see a sign in one of mine haunts me. The pain of those parents haunt me, and I’m not even first degree attached. But I am a human and I can’t even fathom that pain, or maybe I can.

The threat was always there in my own life. A not so gentle reminder of my trauma. My trauma. The thing I don’t talk about because to access it extinguishes my breathing almost immediately. I shudder and shake with it in the therapy office. I don’t want it spoken. What if I made it up.? I wish I made it up.

And it’s just easier to press forward and pretend it’s something that can be left behind. It can’t. It infects the next generation and the next until it’s spoken, understood, and loses it’s power.

I think my true self inside wanted a simple life. And resents the enormity of this role. I think my therapist would laugh at this. That’s just my whining about the acceptance of the things I didn’t choose. My energy healer disagrees, she believes our souls contract before they entire the body fully knowing what their destiny will be.

Did I sign on that dotted line? Was it inked in blood?

I have stories locked down inside me. Guarded by dragons. Dragons I shouldn’t have had to face then, let alone now. To access my memories. It doesn’t seem fair to go through what I have to do to do that.

I spent a life trying to create something I didn’t have to forget and if I want to heal I need to remember enough to also get that little girl out alive.

Confusion. Exhaustion.

Nobody wants that. They want fun and to believe in happy endings. But what about happy beginnings. I’ve realized lately those really do and did exist in those other people. The ones who don’t shudder when a voice raises.

Those happy people you’ll never be understood by, is how it felt. Separation, desperately seeking belonging.

Desperate.

Now that I’m no longer desperate how do I do life? It’s all new, and new is overwhelming even when it’s good.

Patience. Security. Safety.

A loving self ….

I created one.

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At Home in a Heart that is Warm, and the Heart is Mine

Piece by piece she restores my faith that a person could be kind and stay ….. piece by piece she filled the holes that you burned in me at six years old…..

I woke up grumpy this morning. It’s a long day ahead, many bills to pay, many admin issues that need addressing. Ones that are intimidating. I’m tired. My b12 has been low, and I’m getting weekly injections. All of my therapies while deeply helpful, leave me gutted of energy by the end, and that leaves me fallen behind in other areas.

I’m mortal after all, not a God.

My tone inspired by the finishing of The Song of Achilles this morning.

Then as I’m in the bath attempting to rejuvenate my spirits and soak my sore body, I hear twin B singing of all things. I’m just a small town girl….. living in a lonely world…

It immediately lifts my spirits. I smiled from ear to ear. Then even more she texts requesting some time with me. I know it is backwards to need love from your children, (or is it just human all too human) but they are my only flesh and blood connections, and the only ones that have been my motivation to fight so hard against the dark experiences that marked my beginning.

I was waiting to enjoy them…. Wish I knew I didn’t have to wait. But I did. I had to connect with me first and that was nearly impossible.

We have had a turning point in family therapy. And even if it’s just a glimmer of hope (I think it’s more, that this is real), I am overjoyed with it.

Finally all being clamped down in our own story, corners, and pain…. It is relenting…. The icy grip releasing.

Could this thaw too?

It must Christina. You did. So how could it not? Remember what it took to get here.

The pool is getting fixed in the next couple of weeks. If nothing else to preserve the value of this home as improvements continue. A trip to a hot tub store in Milford last week ended in us getting the motivation to clean the thing out. I’ll have to post some before and after shots as I learn how to make the pictures blog sized and not make the whole post not work.

I can’t believe we cleaned that thing out. It has sat for four years and I thought there was no hope. That sounds familiar. Then you give a little time and attention and look what happens.

Look what a little presence does…..

Magic

Not a story, with intensity and a movie like script that must be followed or it can’t develop but everyday magic. These little moments….

I’m watching my kids become me in certain ways, and also them of course, but seeing my strength in them is exciting, and of course that I have not done every single thing wrong. The tale my mind so often weaved. Painful. Excruciating really.

Sometimes it really is all in your head. And that doesn’t make the difficulty any less or it any less real.

I spent my whole life running from my pain. Willing it away by just good ol’ elbow grease. I’d create a family. It’s just that easy. I was naive and foolish and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I had ideas, ran with them, then those ideas crashed and burned painfully. Being redirected was not my strong suit. I would stand defiantly arms crossed and be stubborn against my own behalf and not even know it.

It’s interesting to think now that all my rushing for self work was exactly what I needed to be doing because I could have missed out on connections with my kids. I think I just barely made the boat. On real live ones, not trying to figure it out cognitively, but feeling them in real time.

I have come back from the dead. I was dead inside. All the feeling parts. Maybe not fully dead, almost dead, almost lost, only a small part of human left in there. I had to fight myself, my mind, all while simultaneously figuring out how to support myself, to have healthy relationships, to choose a family for myself of people who show up for each other well.

I had to do the opposite of what I was… to slow down. To show the pain, so it could be seen, so I could be helped. Masking was suffocating me.

Last family therapy session I feel like I breathed for the first time ever. My first breath of oxygen as a flesh and blood human, not a robot who just works constantly and can’t feel.

It’s the most beautiful thing, but I’m also the most exhausted I’ve ever been and the most emotionally raw. And this of course coincides with a busy client schedule with some major shit (shifts) going on in the world, that people are feeling.

And some are not making it. Children taking their own lives, and how to hold space, but also not get trapped in the enormity of that reality.

To just smile at dinner or focus when earlier you sat in this pain with someone and your mind is beckoned to go there, and to the possibility of that happening to you.

I thought I knew what heart break was until I recognized how the very thing that saved me was keeping me emotionally distant from my children. That is heartbreak.

I just expected myself to exist without my story attached, without even speaking of it. I didn’t want it Or me, or my mother to hurt them, but It was always going to pass down to a degree. I held it back with everything that I have. Carried it really. Until I recognized the heaviness was crushing me, and that wasn’t serving anyone.

Now that I’ve set it down I don’t know that I’ll know what to do, how to be. I’ve been existing this way a long time. In reality I’ve been setting it down piece by piece and I’m getting to the part where I’m starting to feel naked without it. To shiver and shake with the new.

When it comes to new and trauma survivors, good or bad doesn’t matter, new has a high threat quotient.

Settle…. Stay…..ground

You’ve worked so hard to be here

Home in a heart that is warm despite the amount of cold it has felt….

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May You Have the Courage to Face Reality As Is

All of these lines across my face… tell me the story of who I am… so many stories….

I did EMDR last night. The first session I made all the way to an installation apparently. I didn’t know that. That all my talking and planning what I’ll say, and having things to say, could have sometimes been avoidance. I’m getting closer to acceptance within the grief process.

My intellectualizing, while quite functional and productive even, also an elaborate form of denial. Denial and avoidance are being confronted abundantly lately.

Within the many grief processes. It’s like once I began why not just keep piling them on. How did I get here? Well I didn’t get myself here alone. I know that.

Last night I focused on permitting myself to fully estrange myself from “my family”, those people I grew up around. How is it possible to spend time agonizing over what will happen when I get that call someone has died. The reality is to go there, to that place, even the thought of it gives me rapid and horrific physical symptoms.

This is my reality.

How would I feel if they didn’t call me? Abandoned all over again? Not belonging. Without any mindfulness of if I want to belong there, and why or why not.

Radical acceptance …. Any acceptance, perhaps radical sets the bar really high.

Another reality is that so much in life I have used a copy paste technique to make big decisions in my one precious life. Never having learned trusting myself or anyone else, why not just default to a faulty system. It felt sound at the time. This works over here, let’s try it in my life. I don’t know what I feel anyway. Why not. Plus look how great it looks.

I’m paralyzed, where are my feelings, I no longer feel things I know I should.

I’m on an NF and Brandy Carlisle kick right now. I want to read her memoir and Matthew McConaughey Greenlights I started on Audible last night. His voice is something other worldly soothing. In a fantasy he could have been my father. Just like Elizabeth Gilbert could have been my mother.

My reality is so much better than fantasy…. And yet the dissociative patterns of old run deep.

I just keep challenging stories, that are just that. The kind my mind creates. I would rather keep it busy reading others subjective truths about their lives as they recall it. Than ricocheting between certainty and doubt in my own mind as a means to keep myself sharp and honed for any impending disaster.

The ever present dread. The illusion of safety it creates. That soothing bastard.

The reality is my want to be in attendance of a funeral for a connection I never had would be one again to prove some worthiness to some unknown diety. I see others do this or that with their grief and wish to emulate rather than trust what I need.

What I need……

(Selfish) you’re selfish. It’s all about you)

Last night in emdr I scratched the surface on the truth of what I need. It was introduced. Progress. Because normally that wouldn’t have even been in the program. It would have been what I need to do. And the why is always to be accepted or belong. (This is why my parent focus is what the kids need to do, rather than on an emotional connection, that breaks my heart. I’m inside of here (her) trying to get out. I’m right here in the upside down.

The proverbial carrot always being dangled over my face. (belonging)

I don’t have to live that way anymore. I accept and belong to myself, and if you know how hard won those words are to be uttered authentically, then you know.

In Emdr I made parallels between families and not feeling understood or wanted. Mine and my ex husband’s. The two starter families. I combatted the story that I abandoned them, and was able to realistically list the ways I was the abandoned. Not in a victim sense. In the way that one must do to confront reality as it happened and not how we wished it to happen.

I wish when I got that call it would be different. That it’s not something that would make me sick. That’s not the reality. The reality is people will judge and hold their own reality when I cut myself off.

Other people stay. Look their family’s are together. Look they go and attend the funeral. But at what cost to them?! If it’s a scrabble toward worthiness, that battle is already lost.

(May I only stay where I am nurtured and valued consistently. May I nurture and value consistently those I love and have responsibility for and to.

These are my vows

May I recognize and have my eyes open to a relationship being abandoned and not nurtured or engaged in so I may never have to be so cold to myself again.

May I notice if I have grown cold or abandoned. And have the courage I need to breath life back in, if the cause is worthy. )

Maybe it doesn’t have to cost for them, but it does for me. I must permit myself my own truth, rather than dissociate from it for anesthetic value.

Trust and Permission

The only way to feel a sense of wholeness and worthiness, especially if the roots weren’t naturally provided, is to be understanding and accepting of yourself. So others can do the same. Or that’s what I’m finding anyway.

Want to be understood? Take the time to be understanding to yourself, of yourself, for yourself. She, they, her, him, must be included.

Must belong

I was never loyal to myself. I was loyal to even an idea of a healthy family. I kept trying to see what ingredients would create one and kept trying. Like a mad scientist, only to be misunderstood further.

Mirages

Until my vulnerabilities got used so thoroughly against me I became forced to learn how to have a relationship with myself.

I was staring the abuse and neglect in the face until I dis identified and realized it was not my self. The self was preserved on ice.

Heart throbs, heart melts…. Heart beat easily 120 bpm on so many days. I didn’t even know my own post traumatic stress. I didn’t know that’s what it was. It was my fault like everything else.

It was tricky at first…. A clumsy dance. This relationship with me….

This is how scattered and shattered my brain is. It blanks and grasps at a memory or a thought, even as a trap door lies right beneath my feet. Or a panther lies in wait guarding the memory. Can’t get the good without the bad Christina. Evil laughter.

What if it’s not real….

What if it is…

This is what the work looks like for me

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We All Become Our Parents in the End? I Don’t Think So

Christina Aguilera Just a Fool is todays angsty song …..

Random thoughts before I begin my client day. I’m out walking around the green. Looking longingly at benches to read on. Longing….

I’m contemplating words of an ex partner, some of the worst that could ever be said to me. We all become our parents in the end was the gist of it. I vehemently disagree and in my case I’m no where close, but being accused by scorned lovers when the relationship died was very unpleasant.

I went to lunch at Edge of The Woods yesterday. Their wraps have really gone down hill since the pandemic. The experience was lovely though. Exploring and finding new things.

I’m in the midst of discovering and becoming, finding the kind of adventures I want. Without that being daunting and feeling filled with land mines.

The sun beats down on my skin….. sweat drips down the small of my back and my neck and I love it. Primal.

Peaceful and primal is possible? I should think yes.

I bought a gardens something protein powder yesterday and I’m excited to make a smoothie with it this morning, even though it never tastes like smoothie king. Oh well. Drip drip….. sweat.:.. music…. Movement…: dreams!

I’m craving and pursuing health in all matters and as a human that’s hard. Consistency is hard, but I love the fruit of this labor. The flavor melting in my mouth. Descriptives.

So I wrote this the other day and didn’t post it. And now I’m in Asbury New Jersey. Joisy. Sun, sand, walks, reading, kiddos (little ones not mine), and just observing life.

And now this is weeks later again and I’m home on another adventure. I have a date with twin A today. My eighteen year old beauty who loves horses, and has a gigantic heart. We are getting lobstah rolls and then let’s be honest probably icecream. Mmmm.

It’s a Friday, therapy in the mornings, often a client or two peppered in to offset the ending of financial support from the other parent, and then an endless span of hours that’s usually filled faster than they can unfold. Today is pest control (mice ick), and notes, many many notes.

I bought a microphone, the one doctor Ramani has, lol. On Amazon Prime day of course. Will it be another item in my collection to dust, like the video camera and pulse oximeters to do Gottman therapy with. Sigh. Will I have a podcast? How can I choose just one thing?

Where is there room for me in my life. It’s all about you, the critic from past relationships gone bad chirps. Everything is always about you. Nothing was ever about me. Cognitive dissonance. Trapped, in the past, in the future, inside a coping mechanism.

Caged

Free

All or nothing

This is me….

I was talking to my therapist the other day about how I had imagined my life. As it turns out my first divorce still haunts me in the form of how that has effected my children’s lives. The way things were dealt with or not dealt with.

Anyway, I was telling her I had always had a dream of being with that one person your whole life. Knowing them in a way where you know all their selves. Where you grow together. I was devastated by divorce and realizing I was gay, it was a betrayal of everything I had dreamt of and everything I set out to do.

(Everything after became a dissociated blur in so many ways. In such a hurry to correct. To still have that with someone while my kids were little. And all the rushing was always the thing that made life the hardest. I had no discipline or no secure foundation to know that. To know there was another way. I didn’t know. Can you forgive me? Can I forgive me. Please.)

Which was to create a family that stayed through it all.

Now I just try to find where I fit ….into life, into my self, into another person, another family…. It’s often overwhelming, it’s often beautiful.

Mostly lost, a little found, inside a life where insecurity used to abound. There’s a budding security.

She reflected that I had that with my kids, but it doesn’t feel like it, because I was always desperately searching for my lost self.

I was

And desperately seeking to be loved, and more to be understood, when I didn’t understand myself.

And maybe that means they were searching for me…. That’s heartbreaking, but when I go back and look I held, I read, I snuggled, I was right there. I had the privilege of being home with them their most formative years. Do their little bodies remember? Will my painful mind?

What do I do with all of this now?

I get up and try again…. To be more loving, more present, to listen and hold space. To believe it’s not too late to be the mom I dreamed of having and being. It’s much more difficult now as I have to translate this to a template where they have their own lives and need me differently.

I want to go back and also I don’t….

I keep moving forward….

Being the change

At the conclusion of this post, which is now, I’ll be full circle to where the post began. Feet hitting the pavement….. pounding.

Walking my way through recovery.

Dancing my way through life….

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The Guards Don’t Relent, They are Their own Machine

“Every soul is like a minnow, every mind is like a shark.” Leonard Cohen

I am preparing for family therapy tonight. It has felt like preparing for battle, and it never should have. That’s inside of me, I tried to never let it out. That wasn’t an option. It leaked and poured out the seems and the more aware I was, the worse I felt.

The worse they felt….

The battle was always inside of me, and it would always create one outside. It began before I was born, and it’s my task, not my burden. Though if you caught me on any difficult day, I would tell you it was.

My battle is my task, trauma as a task to absolve. Is that the right word? I damn sure know it doesn’t dissolve, because that’s such a tame word, and it doesn’t.

Feral, tame, feral, tame….. battle battle battle….

To see things clearly and with safety is the ultimate privilege anyone could ever have.

Don’t cry for me, don’t hold me…. Just see me. Show me you see me. The guard goes down just a little, but he never takes off his armor. It’s stifling inside of here, this suit of metal. Once you’re hit so many times it never goes down.

All of the intensity of not receiving support fired straight at my kids. The truth is unbearable at times. I want to change out my suit of armor for robes. Even choosing an outfit is exhausting. I’d like to simplify everything. Maybe it will help. The Buddhist principles. Maybe they will help.

Can anything help?

Is it better to be a tortured soul than a lost one? Are those my only choices ? Most of my life it’s felt like it.

Is this the hill I’m going to die on? The best they could say is at least she never gave up. I guess that’s something for them, and everything for someone like me.

“All I ever wanted was some support that was unconditional. I tried to find that in partnership and failed every time because that’s not an unconditional relationship.

I had to give up me to have security.

Who would I be without my guard. I never let it down anywhere or with anyone except in the bath maybe is where that began.

I ache that I didn’t give you a better family life. That I “failed” every time and became more ashamed.

I ache at the word selfish. I never had a self to enjoy. Everything I looked like I was enjoying I was just trying at, trying to learn it.

I was trying to protect you and that backfired.

That I couldn’t just create a loving and warm mother out of thin air. That I didn’t keep my focus on you because primarily of resources emotionally and financially.

And then to shame myself for it, and then to be shamed for it.

Is agony…..

When I feel I have no support I run around like a feral animal, lashing and biting. I run scared all the time. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone and I’m sorry for the amounts I gave to you.

So many parts child still…

My trauma is also yours…..

I’m sorry

It takes an act of god to access my feelings, let alone show you. So I try to bridge the gap with writing because I can safely access myself there.

I’m like a human machine for detecting patterns and behavior because I spent my life trying to make sure I could keep you safe from me (my trauma).

You just wanted my time and attention and I did too. Everyone was in scarcity.

Now we could have this thing and I don’t know how to let go.

To find the balance of not being walked all over, but also having respect for myself and being able to love you.

I’d like to love you. To have and to make room to be loving. Please know that I need help with this, it wasn’t naturally given to me.

And I also need to be your mom to teach you and have boundaries etc.

This is often out of balance. I’m desperately seeking balance.”

Desperate causes so much harm. The feeling alone.

Desperate my whole life.

I’m running out of that energy and will I land at the bottom of my own inner well (sacred space) defeated in a puddle of my own shame and self loathing.

Or is it possible to rise out of something like this. ?

Balance

If my guard lets down at this point in my life will I just drop lifeless to the ground? It’s all I have ever known. This is my truth.

It took years to turn a sensitive, loving, creative child into a sentinel.

How can you ask me to undo that?

A major rule of therapy is you cannot strip away someone defense mechanism or reveal them to themselves without first replacing that with something more functional. You have to make a safe landing space first.

I’ve been this for countless people in my office, and often times the opposite for my children.

I will need to live with the balance of this truth, with forgiveness and mercy in my heart, if I am to live without constant suffering.

Atonement

How did I even get here? I’m not even religious :p That all caused me so much damage, repression, shame… it was in the wrong hands of course. Are there wrong hands ? Or just incredibly broken ones.

The questions are endless…..

“Suffering had led me to wherever I am, suffering has made me rebel against my own weakness. – Leonard Cohen

“What Happens to The Heart.”

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An Abundance of Recovery Tools…

Good morning! It’s sacred Sunday and now that I’m old and retired, only two days out, somehow the release of some of the pressure I had felt, is opening up the space to do things out of joy, rather than pressure. Perhaps I’ll have time for grammar and to tackle the previous one large run on sentence above.

While watching Dexter yesterday I was looking up recipes, marry me chicken, chicken Kiev casserole, and contemplating the waffle maker with Ube (purple yam) pancake mix Tyler brought from the latest Trader Joe’s sensation. My goodness that takes me back. The buying of items that were new and exciting all the years I worked there. I was never an amazing cook. Too rushed for that most likely. But there was always variety and abundance.

The exercise is to notice more of what you’ve done right and less of what you’ve screwed up. It’s fairly straight forward, but very difficult for those committed to their own suffering.

While personally I’m trying to navigate my relationship with food into a healthier one. Less all or nothing. Portion control. I’m fairly certain it’s my emotions that guide most of my eating, and I’d like to introduce some logic into the equation.

I’m enjoying my bath and my coffee and going to toggle through a few different books until I settle into a zone. Writing and restless and I still have a finicky dance, but it’s being sorted. My tattoo is itchy, oh so itchy. A reminder of the different stages of the healing process. A metaphor if I delved. I delve less these days. I want normal to a degree. I am basking in normal and mundane.

I can have all the fantasy I want with my writing without having to explode my life each time I have a craving. Wow that’s an old version of me. So hard on myself. She is only there in nostalgia not in practice. There was so much more going on to my beginnings and endings of my relationships and I’m working on navigating the shame at the ways I saved myself. Especially as I didn’t even know what I was doing.

I have come to find most people are just stumbling about. The majority of them. I’m not some big bad wolf. They are also just trying to sort themselves, to ground, to overcome their cravings and short comings.

Don’t other yourself, you’re most likely, more like everyone else, than some anomaly. I take comfort in that rather than offense. Human, all too human.

Anyway it’s a glorious Sunday: there will be home cooked food smell, dogs, teens in and out, my stand in father popping by with groceries, cards maybe, some straightening of the house. Sundays are so full if possibilities. A little admin and notes hopefully. A whole lotta love.

It’s a full life….

The nagging of my mind to find threat and eradicate it or succumb to it in some fashion is no longer present. It has been replaced with bliss and joy and possibilities. Don’t get me wrong some bouts of irritable feelings remain, little waves, reminders of confusion and pain.

But any desire for those things is quickly reminded of the big picture. It’s more automatic than it isn’t, which is wholly opposite of how things used to be. It used to be automatic to be drawn to self sabotage and harm. That is the sad truth.

I have been determined to make way for clarity to create and damnit I will! I have no doubts in my determination. Not nearly so many as my concentration, but that can be worked at. And working at it I am.

I watched a Les Carter video the other day entitled, are Narcissists just mean Co Dependents. Within the video he talked about how both categories have low peace. This is ultimately my compelling why for recovery. I need peace like I need oxygen. You don’t find it, you must be it to have it. That’s the secret.

Want peace? Be peaceful. Sit and do nothing and see what happens. Stop distracting yourself with anything. Be still.

Anyway I referenced a line from the video in my sessions Friday and Saturday because it fit so well. He was describing both as “having a chronic undertow of agitation and irritability and to be driven by insecurity.” Oh my that line, driven by insecurity, most of my life Mr. Carter, most of my life. He describes displacing this pain on others, a transfer I was unwilling to continue.

The work is arduous and I’d try for a long time, not quite reach the root and then give up into comfort and try to concoct a story about it that this was right and real and everything. These conclusive stories ever the protection for my terror ridden mind, only made things worse in the long run. They seduced me with relief in the moment. Never again. Never say never, but I believe in the maintenance of my work.

Anyway on this gorgeous pile of hours that spread out endlessly with no plan I will leave you with this from the video. “I’m sorry you never learned to draw upon your own inner confidence, something went dreadfully wrong in your past.” Oh my heart, and then also, “they think discarding people makes them independent, but they are actually just avoidant.“

I can so easily recognize distancing behaviors in my self and others now, as well as the painful cycles that come with attachment wounds.

I use my life experiences to sharpen my gift. It no longer feels like a curse. I have a much more well trained mind than I used to, and it makes life so much better. This mind has realistic expectations for my self and others, and knows how to find what it needs rather than causing such a stir, out of frustration or boredom. This mind is realistic and grounded rather than a funhouse full of mirrors distorting images.

Rather than rage against what I didn’t or don’t have and feel sorry for myself. Stuck firmly in the Karpman Drama Triangle, right along with my teens I am individuating, in small pieces, and healing in leaps and bounds.

An abundance of recovery…..

Ps I got Wordle on try three this time. Woo! I’m getting the hang of taking my time with things, rather than rushing with very little mindfulness. Of course a lot of it is also luck, but I think that’s true of life as well. More than I ever was able to admit to myself before. That would have felt very unsafe for me.

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A High School Degree and Lots of Mercy for Me

Go easy on me….. I was still a child
Didn’t get the chance to
Feel the world around me
I had no time to choose
What I chose to do
So go easy on me baby

My girls graduate high school today. It’s surreal. Almost an out of body experience, but in a good way this time. I am sifting through so many moments on this journey.

My main regret is that so much of it was stressful for them in ways I may not have even noticed and it has caused them harm. They are in recovery too. Hopefully less than I feel, but I know they are. Acknowledging but not drowning, just doing slowly better, is the sweet spot I’ve found. It’s what I strive for.

This morning I am nauseated (injection), it’s been a few days of it and I’m getting tired of it. But other than that my tattoo is healing well this time, or I’m just less anxious and more used to the process. It’s probably that 😉 it’s amazing to see my growth even there with my anxiety.

I went to https://www.bloodroot.com last night to commemorate the work done with a beloved person as they transition to their next chapter. It was a making sacred ritual of this rite of passage and it couldn’t have been more magical.

The place itself is something out of a fairy tale and I may need to begin sitting outside or in, and writing there. There’s something about it. All of it. It’s across from Captains Cove and I could hear the band (Eagle Eye Cherry always takes me back), from the kind of distance I’d like to be hearing the band from. Across a body of water. Subtle and uninterrupting.

I felt like I was transported in time to the Whistle Stop Cafe…..

The tree. The lighting. The women. The books. The food cooked where you can see with nothing but love. I’ve been thinking about how food filled with love tastes different and how meals have marked me with forever memories. When I have been cooked for and shown that I matter. I’m important.

I saw a younger version of me in my office yesterday and she just wants someone to be enthusiastic about her and to be less lonely. I lived all these years not even knowing I felt that way. Not knowing how I felt at all. This feelings thing is still hard. Too little sometimes, too much others. It’s a battle sometimes, at least what I am able to show.

She is not alone. But now I think of where that leads to. A line from a Les Carter vid this am, “I’m sorry you never learned to draw upon your own inner confidence, something went dreadfully wrong in your past.” Oh my heart about this line.

All in the same evening, I sat with someone newly minted on their journey, so lost to themselves. Their value invisible to them, as I scramble to show them, with everything I’ve got. All the tools, and my passion. And I sat with someone who is nearly, if not seven years into the process.

Someone generous who shared with me that I’ve been their safe space and that I always showed up with everything I have consistently and that they knew. That this is what allowed them to be challenged by me when it’s so hard to see what we are doing to ourselves in the aftermath of what has been done to us.

I don’t think there could have been a better time for me to hear these words. As I’ve spent so much time burning in the fire of my regrets and all I didn’t know. My awareness.

I’m processing through how with my kids what I do and who I am seems invisible, how they feel about me. I was so reactive to that for awhile, and now I have surrendered to acceptance of what we will create now in this more peaceful place.

It’s tempting to become euphoric at the info shared last night and to become indignant with them. But the relationship is different it cannot be compared. It is the boundaries themselves that help the power and for it to be effective. Change those and it’s so easy for there to be hurt, disappointment, misinterpretation.

I live much better inside solid lines of expectations and yet my full real human self yearns to burst forth with creativity.

My darkness that lives inside as a result of my painful beginning has been crafted into a gift. My unfortunate innate ability to control my emotional response, to my detriment, helps me as a clinician, yet hinders me as a human.

I need to ask for understanding and acceptance about this, rather than fall into spirals of shame. This is some of my work. We must teach others how to love us. Without collaboration you can never learn love. It must be learned. It can feel magical in the beginning, but to get it off the ground after the initial ingredients are present, you also need to learn the other person.

And if you don’t know yourself first, you will inevitably resent this new responsibility. Particularly if your plate is already full. In the past I ended up resenting anyone else needing a single additional thing from me. I lived in a state of compassion fatigue, and total and utter burnout for years and didn’t even know it. That’s how invisible I can be to myself. That is a dangerous thing. Operating on pure survival.

I still have triggers and reactions I don’t always love, but when I sit with myself gently until I’m calm, I come out the other side with grace and forgiveness.

Mercy

Today is going to be an emotional day. Such an emotional day, and a long one. It’s injection day, I have a few clients this morning also with my therapy in between, nails with my girls, figure out schedule, graduation, and a large dinner reservation after. All the things. I couldn’t be more proud.

I am humbled by the love that I feel and that is developing inside and out. It is transforming me. Most of the time I’m in too much awe to be able to articulate. But we all know that won’t last too long and I’ll be talking away about it.

I’m obsessed with Olivia Rodrigo. Driver’s License is my new repeat song and anything by her and I must admit Harry Styles new album. I can blame my clients for this one.

Lakes, water, sand, sun, trees, books, words…. Passion…..

What’s next? What’s now?

Presence

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Blissing out in the Great Wide Open….

11:11 at a favorite spot by the water. I smell the sand, the salt, and A & D ointment, ha. I finally got back to the sleeve. My rose under the broken dome. This has been a long awaited piece, the shoulder cap. I took a hiatus after a bad saniderm reaction and some financial RE shuffling that needed to take priority.

I’m now a real adult…. Who is contributing to an SEP fund as the employee and employer. I had long needed to have my own retirement set up and feel secure. My home is worth quite a lot more than I just financed it for. Now it’s just about building security. I want to be in a place where I don’t have to stress if I need time to care for my health or take time to travel. I never want to be in a position again where I feel guilty for taking time off, or afraid depending on my client load.

I have a plan in place to pay off my student loans and to limit my tax liability.

I seem to just be inviting and creating more abundance in all areas.

These are my priorities right now, and just being extremely present! I don’t know how I was living how I was. My resting heart beat is so much lower. I repeat I don’t know how I was living like that. It’s surreal to me now. Lost in my head all the time. Burning alive daily with insecurity.

I take a deep breath….

My mind still desperately wants to cling to what’s next ? I know that I have knowledge that is valuable and I’m trying to figure out how to unlock it in a different arena than 1-1 sessions. I’m not sure if that’s even my path, or if it’s just an idea of a dream.

I spent so much of my life after things I thought I wanted, without ever really knowing myself. So I guess what you’ll be seeing is me writing about being me. That’s the plan anyway. More than thoughts it’s my identity that’s taking shape. I am recovering who I was before all the fear and pain.

Is that a thing? I think it is.

Who knew it could be so simple to discover yourself, to make time for that, to create permission and space for that process. To find out who you were born to be, who you want to be, and the intersection. All the little unique things about a person. All of mine I hid, or hid from, to afraid to risk anything.

Exploring my risk tolerance in a lot of areas.

What do I want most ? To travel? To write? To be near the lake? To create? The questions are beginning to feel exciting, and the burden and crushing weight of possibility and decisions is lessening.

Why is it so hard to answer the question, “what do you want and what do you need?”

It’s so strange to transition with my children from the fear of fucking up being responsible for them, to the privilege of witnessing their personal discoveries and the carving of their paths. What a shift !

Getaway Car…. I’m on a Taylor kick.

I’m taking lots of walks…. I see the world now. I don’t live in my head. I want to shout from the mountain tops. I want to pave the way for others, create the formula, share the knowledge in my heart.

I want to bask in the glow of living. Loving life itself. Blue water, clear skies.

To find out how to explain what it’s like to have a clear head. To not be burning alive. To be emotional nearly every day about these changes.

This is where I am. And I have no idea where I’ll be, but I know the prospects don’t feel like life and death.

This is recovery ….

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I Feel it in My Fingers, I Feel it in my Bones…..

Love is all around….

I’m on a plane, crying in plain sight while reading part five of What my Bones Know. How her partner’s family treats her…. What it took on her part to receive. The fact she stayed. There’s a little girl across the row eating pretzel sticks and suddenly I’m transported back in time. To a life that could have been, to a precious memory.

I’m able to realize now my memories are not a betrayal of the present. I get to keep my whole story and my whole self. I get to waft in and out as I please and take what I want, and leave what I want.

Is this freedom?

A baby cries…. Not mine. There won’t be another.

One of the most unbelievable aspects of life is how much it can change, and how amazing those changes can turn out to be. And that my heart can still swell with love for all that ever was, because it’s all part of me.

My shoulders are sore, the gentleman at my favorite nail place wailed on me this time. Fresh pedicures and fresh bruises abound. There was some drama on the plane about the stowing of luggage as we set out. This is our second flight, we will land in West Palm.

A family I didn’t stay in will visit in a couple of Sundays. A former lover and friend who now has a lovely wife and baby, and one on the way. The kids will get to meet and bond with the little one. And all the adults will potentially have some forms of closure. There will be joy, and no hard feelings. That’s what happens when all people with good hearts are involved. When no one intended any harm, we were just young and immature and ill equipped in so many ways.

The plane is up in the air now. I no longer need Xanax to fly. My first years absolutely adventurous of spirit, until the intrusive thoughts and nightmares began, until I became afraid of my own shadow, body, and every possible thought.

The next years obfuscated by a lack of understanding or time or resources to obtain it. The next years trips inside myself and back out again recovering what I could from the rubble of my life.

A self has emerged. She wasn’t perfect, God knows she wasn’t.

But today I am flying to Florida with my kids. And in my mind I’m crafting letters to them for therapy acknowledging their experiences that have hurt, and hoping for a closeness I never thought possible. There’s a post it on my desk that says “it’s not too late”, and it isn’t.

At the end of this book it talks about estrangement, and how much more common than we know.

I’ve never met another person until Stephanie (the author) that describes so eloquently how although she was invited to things, how she couldn’t feel the things one is supposed to about it. I’ve never felt as seen as I do now, or attached to an author.

I hope that means I’m getting closer to my own. I’m not even sure that needs to be part of my story anymore, it’s just becoming so much better each day.

Eek a little turbulence. I should be well schooled in this from my life, but alas I am someone who wants to feel her feet on the ground even if her head is often in the clouds.

I’m a little nauseated, that’s what waking up at 2:15 am will do. I’ll be too excited to rest until it’s time, but this whole thing is about rest right ?! And bonding let’s not forget that. A wise friend would tell me to keep my weight back when it comes to expectations. He’s not wrong. Be careful with those things.

I’m ready to sip a beverage out of a coconut shell in a beach chair already, and to watch my kids, now nearly adults, enjoy some of the finer things in life. Like a vacation for example.

Hopefully going forward it’s a yearly occasion and there’s plenty more time for bonding, and I’ll be involved every step of the way.

God I love my kids…. Outside all the triggers and fears they wouldn’t learn what they need to be ok, when I see them, really see them, it’s almost blinding.

Kind, considerate, warm, bright, welcoming, loving, intelligent, curious, empathic, funny…. I could go on. It’s almost surreal at times.

Anyway that’s it for now. I hope to write plenty more during this trip.

All my love,

C

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“Deprivation Runs Deep, it Creates Blank Spots in Us”

And longing ….

It’s late for me to be writing a blog post. Only one or two times have I ever attempted this feat. As if we are talking about extreme sports or something. Kind of.

I put on K.D Lang’s Constant Craving, it mimics how I feel right now. But what?! Could be so many things. Presence? Warmth? Food? It goes along with the title of my Memoir: Starved.

Am I doomed to be restless forever? Even as so many things are so good in my life?

I’ve been working hard. Harder than I ever imagined. I’ve become more me than I ever thought possible. A self, a real self. I’ve been working to make amends with my children, and building trust in myself has everything to do with it. As outside changes take place can I maintain those stabilities? Yes.

I watched The Tender Bar the other day and also have Hillbilly Elegy on the radar. I purchased both memoirs and have been researching the authors. Better at purchasing books than reading them. Another addiction? Maybe…..

I’m reading Beyond Codependency, and a line today struck me. “Deprivation runs deep, it creates blank spots in us.” That line alone could release grief, torrents. I read the passage during several sessions today. My people. The walking wounded. The brave.

I guess that’s why I feel starved no matter what I do.

Listening to Exile by Taylor Swift and Bon Iver, on repeat. The piano. Haunted. JR Moehringer writes about the ache of hearing his father’s voice while never having a relationship with him, and how being at the bar was at least something: his uncle Charlie teaching him the man sciences.

The ache …..

No story or obsession can protect me any longer. I live as a real human now. Sometimes I wish I could go back. No, I wasn’t better off. My mind spun. I was in a frenzy. My mind burned. Now it’s so quiet that sometimes the silence is deafening. It’s so still.

Peace is still so foreign and yet I’m better. Better to and for others, better with myself. Softer somehow. Grief has softened me. Every where. :p I struggle with my relationship with my body. Without my all or nothing and my addictions I can’t command myself into whatever is needed, because there is no longer a compelling why.

The last being the anxiety of being good enough. I know I am. So have I lost my edge, or Just my ability to torture myself into performance. I could go numb before and just obey. I know you know what I mean. I gave that up. The dark gift (passenger). The ability to swiftly disconnect. I traded my safety, for a real human life.

I guess I know why the Buddha is round ha. He’s so happy though. I too am happy. I scarcely know if I’m allowed, but my toe is in the water.

My mind is so still, if you saw the difference you would cite demon possession. Perhaps I had a lobotomy in my sleep. So now where is my story in here? Who am I without my coping mechanisms, without the guards. Most of the time I’m too guarded to even trust emdr I have found. But I grieve ….oh do I grieve.

I grieve that chaotic frantic woman ….. she was my constant. I don’t know what to do, as this new self. I’m quiet sometimes because it’s hard to trust new, even when it’s better.

And I love…. As hard as I ever have….. and I get up after getting knocked down….

My whole heart on the line. This is a gift the way that I live. With every fiber of my being. People crave this existence and a touch that makes all the difficult worthwhile. And I have it all, and I give it all.

Every day I live a year long. I’m so fulfilled at the end of each day, even when I’m restless. I fall asleep hard and fast and sleep deeply. Movie reels playing all night long, safely far enough from consciousness, but they are there. My dreams. Body slack. Not waiting for a pin to drop.

Mostly I am humbled daily by the work. Asking for forgiveness, learning, gently having my own back. Self supportive. What even is this….?!

Honing in on what to learn next. Realizing that while I lost a dream there are so many I didn’t realize I was already in. I’ll have grandkids, and I’ll be there every step of the way consistently engaged because I can and want to. Simple. Like how Charlie loved JR.

Sometimes the simplicity of love is startling. What is even more unsettling is how natural for me it is to complicate everything.

The kids and I are going on vacation soon…. West Palm bound. We sat around the table tonight playing skip Bo and talking about the different things we want during that trip. There was no tension or fighting. After all this time, we get to relax together. And the relaxation doesn’t have too high of a cost like it would have before. Stress somewhere else.

If you asked me if I would have been able to afford this vacation by myself or any of the other things we have I would have laughed. The life I live now is one that I saw as out of reach not that long ago. Impossible.

Even better I am rich in the knowing that my children have emotional safety. It was touch and go there for a minute, but I was never a lost soul. I’m too much of an advocate for that.

Sometimes arriving begins with breaking the silence without a plan in mind. This is a jumble of many potential blog posts I never chose to write. It’s tempting to feel it’s less good in its jumble but maybe the habit is the most important part. Just putting words to the page. Say anything…..

One post that’s rattling in my brain is “time will tell….” I think I’ll make that my next. I’ve said plenty here.

Goodnight 💜