Tag: #nottoomuch

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Ocean tears

Where is she ?

The second I drive up over the hill the smell of salt and sea climbs inside my veins and breathes life back into me. Like coming home. Today a flag is whipping in the wind, the wind that’s tousling my hair. It’s 80 degrees and sunny and I have Pink radio on Pandora.

This morning the overwhelm roiled up inside me to a frenzy and texting a friend brought the tears. One of those good shower cries. Loud. Inconsolable. Here I am a whole summer later and have to refuse another like the last in any way shape or form. I am a new self and that’s scary and lonely. And if you add health issues on top down right depressing.

I’m being strong in so many ways. New ways and old ways. When I hit my limits I break down and then build back up, rather than acting in a trauma response. Life is much calmer this way. I connect more easily and peacefully with myself and my children. My mind isn’t wild like it was. I am free to focus and enjoy things if I wasn’t so fucking sad right now.

I was looking up things to find out why I’ve been such an emotional wreck since my uterine ablation, two weeks ago today. Is it that ? I feel bloated and just entirely unsexy and that sucks. It feels icky. I feel old. I feel not where I want to be. I feel ashamed. I feel sad. It all just bubbles up to the surface for release.

I don’t have the answers to lean on anymore. I am humbled. The only thing I can do is be grateful I can feel this deep and have packed so much into one life already. I don’t have regrets, just really big feelings.

I want things to look forward to again that feel exciting and give me hope and joy, but I can’t force them to be now. I have to be where I am. To be in this. But haven’t I been here long enough my soul cries. How long ? At this point it’s beyond being impatient. If this is hell, I should have prayed more, because I can’t take it anymore.

The bag from my surgery still sits next to my bed. I haven’t even unpacked it, books are piled all around it, I need to put away laundry. I can’t move. I am frozen and that’s a terrifying feeling. I can’t play the piano. I know it will feel good. I know it makes me happy, but I can’t move. It’s hard to imagine at this point ever feeling better again.

Recently someone was talking about wanting normalcy again after a large and painful life transition. And it made me think of Leslie Charles and her “there is a before and an after” when it comes to grief. A new normal must be created. And not knowing what that looks like is a hard place to be in. Focusing on what I want my life to look like, what I want, versus who. For me it was always going to be about love. All these concepts jumble together.

Be still

There are ways I like where I am right now. Irreplaceable lessons, and ways I most assuredly do not like where I am. And just like magic Unsteady comes on. Of course it does.

My day was cut short today. I am seeing 5 clients and that is a relief when it happens like that. I think I’ll go home and rest until them. I’ve been so tired since surgery. I don’t know what the hell it did to me or if it’s the sheer lack of a loving and warm attachment that I’ve always abided by. Probably that or both.

People are living all around me. I’m watching them right now. I feel like the walking dead and this is just a moment. I know me. That I’ll keep venturing and learning and being me, but right now I just want to sleep. And I don’t want to want to sleep because it’s gorgeous out and there’s life to be lived.

This state I am in right now is in such conflict with who I am. A suck the marrow out of life girl stuck in a black and white world.

One minute at a time…..

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Wake Me up Inside

Have I mentioned that I love Sundays? Although I am sleepy today. I am sitting and marveling at how much more energized I become when I have good communication in my life and something to look forward to. Good company and good communication is life changing for me. It doesn’t need to be some all or nothing attachment, just safe and reciprocal and well balanced and paced, and viola I am ALIVE.

What even is this where I am free from the mental masturbation and prison respectively of telling stories that were unkind and untrue about who I am as a person. Over-thinking, under-thinking, potato potato, let’s just call the whole thing off. I am tired of being tired and sad and whatever else. So like a real adult human who is allowed I am going to move on with my life and be enjoying living, rather than stuck in a story or in the past or the future for that matter.

I just had my car detailed and it’s one of the best feelings, especially this time as it was covered in slobber and all manner of ick. It feels like a million bucks and makes me relaxed and happy. Perhaps I have a little OCD in me somewhere. I mean I get why, it sure feels nice, but if I pressured myself to maintain that level of clean I’d go crazy. I shall enjoy it for the moment for what it is and also let real life take hold and not let it bother me too much when this time of enjoying it perfect passes.

We made a hard decision as a family this past week. We re-homed Sophie our beautiful and beloved German Shorthair Pointer. It was not good timing for our family the space we were in to be training and fully devoted to a puppy. We planned a pretty picnic, but couldn’t predict the weather. This was such a hard decision and we had been agonizing over it for almost 2 months in family therapy. We couldn’t come to any good answer because the emotions tripped us up from making a hard decision. The truth is what’s best for Sophie and for us at this time was to let her be with a family who she is their focus for the time being. This was a tough tough pill to swallow as one more attachment fracture was the last thing this family needed.

I wanted to make her my focus and had a vision of that, but I wasn’t following through and it wasn’t fair to anyone. It’s hard to admit defeat/failure, and for a couple of days I felt that familiar relationship with myself rise up where I tried to make me wrong for it. I know how judgmental people can be with such matters. She is a family member. And I tried to do no man left behind, but at the end of the day our mental health came first, and acknowledging the struggles our family is having at the moment with responsibilities, structure, and emotions. That was really the key. My therapist helped me re-frame the hard on myself default I often have, and it happened much more quickly this time.

There were some events and changes I did not anticipate and some things in her training or no training. I am not perfect. I had blind spots and I made the right decision going forward. While it was very hard at first, and still is, we are relieved because one of the kids friends took her. She has a fenced yard, a family who loves her very much, and once she is adjusted we can still see her and be a nice blended family. She lives two streets away. This decision once made and followed through with took a tremendous burden of stress and guilt off of my shoulders and I feel like a different human. I was shouldering so many burdens. A large area of work for me right now.

I have some freedom and peace of mind for the moment. My quiet writing time is my own again, and some tension lifted almost immediately between the kids and I, though with three young adults there’s always a new one to replace it. I’m starting to learn what’s normal about that and not devolve immediately into fight or flight every time someone has a feeling. I said every time, I still do most of the time. That is my biggest area of work right now. Learning what is normal teen behavior and not immediately throwing a template over it filled with abuse triggers and trauma responses that are reflexive and automatic. It’s taking everything I am, and everything I have to change these things, but I am doing it. Little by little.

I have come to the end of the road, like that lovely Boys II Men song from back in the day with a journal that I had. I have a couple that I could begin but none are attracting me at the moment so I think I’ll go to Barnes and Nobles later and pick out one that calls me. Hopefully it’s large pages like this one, the size and lines are perfect. We shall see.

My mind is so quiet these days it’s bizarre utterly. What to do with this new me. It feels so odd sometimes how much someone can change if they truly put in the work consistently. I didn’t even know this much was possible, as I for sure didn’t know my survival instincts and coping mechanisms were as pervasive and present in all things in my life. It’s a whole new world. And most of the time I’m not quite sure what to do with myself, but I’m excited to figure it out.

I am healing from my procedure and can finally take a bath again beginning this next Tuesday. I thought I might lose my mind without that comfort and routine. You don’t realize how much you miss something or how integral to your being it is until it’s gone. It has seemed like a lifetime since I last indulged and it is time to be re-united. Speaking of comforting routines Chip will be by in awhile, his grocery shop trip later in the day this time. I never know what I want to eat lately my appetite has been so weird since surgery. I just haven’t felt right and very bloated and nothing seems to settle, and my mood with eating is all over the place. This is soul crushing because I’m a foodie. Just not feeling myself in a variety of ways in that department. I’m looking forward to getting back into shape, moving my body, and getting some of this sedentary surgery weight off and feeling energized and better. It’s past time to get back and see Jen (my trainer), but she switched from mornings. I have to do something though.

It’s time to bring sexy back. I am tired of feeling uncomfortable and down in that department. I don’t worry very much about it these days though, because these days I don’t stay in any bad habit for very long without quickly re-evaluating. If it makes me feel like shit, no matter how great in the moment it could feel, I’m not into it. I’m excited to get back into the swing of reading and writing and just all of it. I’m excited to get back to living again. The song that is playing in my head right now for this idea is Evanescence Wake Me up Inside and Lay Your Love on Me from Mamma Mia. I’m obsessed lol. Kicking it old school. Typical.

The best part about a dark night is that when the light comes out everything looks and feels brand new. Life becomes illuminated differently, because everything is coated in a gratitude just to feel better. Like that first day you finally aren’t in pain or discomfort after having been sick awhile.

Relief. Peace. Joy. Still infinitely sad, but with all these things in the view upcoming. Also From Now On…… from The Greatest Showman. I am so grateful for the way movies like this make me feel things, and for my childlike enthusiasm that I have kept through all of this.

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The present of presence….

I don’t think most people realize that presence is a privilege. I’m here to tell you it is.

Learning to listen to my children has become one of my greatest triumphs to consistently strive for. Given the world I came from and so many automated switches that shut me down it is nothing short of miraculous. Truly. This isn’t black and white, all or nothing. It’s ebbs and flows. Sometimes I’m a better listener than others, but always I care enough to try and follow through with a repair.

Now I do. Yes now, because now is when I am able. I wasn’t before and that is the reality and as long as I allow space for their feelings around this we will be ok. Everything else can be figured out.

Everything else genuinely figures itself out as long as the secure attachment moorings are in place.

I guess that’s why so much of my life took so long to recover/uncover.

The Mother’s Day triggers are in full effect. It’s coming. Winter is coming. No matter how many times well meaning people instruct me to focus on this day in terms of who I am you cannot remove my pain from me, nor should you. Pain demands to be felt. If we don’t feel it, deal with it, and heal it, it spreads like cancer to those around us in the form of our treatment of them. Sigh

I’ve been going since 5 am today. I had a GI apt at 8 am. Labs are good all is well. I need to get my good and bad cholesterol a little better on each number, but total isn’t bad. I just need to exercise more and for my mental health as well. I start so many things that I don’t finish. Story of my life. And now my teenage son is struggling with this as well.

I imagine follow through is a universal problem, as well as getting our priorities straight. An art that takes a lifetime to craft, and maybe that’s the beauty of it all.

Some things however are consistent. Like how I feel when I drive onto Belmont Street and begin to see the water. Every part of my body smiles. Similarly to when I hear the piano or a vocalist that I love. Or when I feel that right touch in just the right way and every part of me sings and dances. The things worth living for. I just have to keep fighting for that.

When my writer self crafts that perfect sentence that just lands. There’s no feeling like it.

Funny I came here to talk about the pain associated with Mother’s Day and how we should learn to respond to people in a way that creates space for them, and many other things and what I find is my appreciation for beauty instead. Evolution.

I have lots to talk about in terms of life’s lessons. As I watch my kids learn them. I cut so many corners not reflecting my degree of conscientiousness, but rather my need for survival in so many areas. Can the clean up be delicious rather than the tragedy the pain sometimes makes it?

You can tell I’m busy by my scattered thoughts. I keep getting interrupted by calls for medical things. It’s a full time job by itself keeping care of a body. How does anyone even function?

For future blogging will be pool ownership pitfalls and probably more Mom shit. I mean does that ever end really ? I’m anxious. I’m anxious about a medical procedure tomorrow and the after. I’m nervous and secure. An anxious secure LOL. How can I ever be lonely when I entertain myself so well?!

I was doing some cleaning in my office this morning and I’m going over old letters that my kids have written me…. one in particular about how “you would think it’s really great to have a mom as a therapist”…. and all they want is my presence, the one thing I didn’t even have for myself. My own presence. Could it actually be a present?

Stay tuned …..

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The Infinite Sadness

Today was a beautiful really good day in so many ways. Today was a beautiful really hard day in so many ways. My heart is broken and I’m beginning to wonder if things will ever feel better again. If there will ever be that naïveté and zest for living encapsulated in the trapped childhood parts I was left with. Now that they have integrated my life feels so bland sometimes.

I’m always aware of how grateful I am. This is the longest I’ve really ever gone without feeling secured by being a part of something bigger, a family, someone else’s family. As well as having a relationship I am working on with a partner. Nothing eases the ache of loneliness. No amount of me saying how ok I am. I’m not ok. And any end to this pain never seems in sight because I’ve outgrown coping mechanisms that would allow me to accept anything less than two feet in and someone willing to do the work.

It feels like I’m going to be alone forever. There’s a thousand things in a day I want to be sharing. And then I give up and just go numb and try to busy myself, which doesn’t work either because I’m always acutely aware I’m numb.

I have everything anyone could want. I’m fulfilled. I love my found family, my friends, my family that is the kids and I. Our home, our pets, my little habits and routines. I’m doing so many good things right now, but at the end of the day there isn’t that consistent routine with someone that makes living worthwhile.

“For me it was always going to be about love” from About Time. I think in many ways people are who they are. You can analyze all day long, but those who are about love are about love. For the last year I’ve imagined what it would be like to have love where it’s just myself and that other person and it’s ours. I watch these movies and I get angry. I get angry about the fault lines in me that I didn’t know were there.

Sad and angry, sad and angry, get back up and keep going… and the cycle repeats. I always wanted the kind of love that stays, to have it, to be it. I’m so angry about what the trauma did to my brain. The broken speed and trajectory at which I have lived. I know I can’t be mad at my story and embrace it, but right now it aches and I am raw.

I go all day, fairly positive and it’s easy to be engaged because I love my work and my life. At night it’s the worst. I beg to be tired enough to fall asleep so I can have some rest, and look forward to my coffee and morning writing routine.

Then I resent having to ever get out of that warm safe bubble to do hard things like figure out taxes and pay bills and decide what to spend money on and what not to. It’s monotonous and altogether not worth anything without love. I’m pretty sure this is who I am and not just being co-dependent.

I have all these Gottman couple things, cards etc books things and no relationship to practice them inside. How did it ever become a fantasy for it to be just me and another person fully devoted with no bullshit. And how is that fair when I had it and…. that’s pointless at this point because being hard on oneself never helped anyone. Something I am learning.

I did appreciate that relationship for every second it existed until things in my life changed so swiftly. I can go back and say I wish I did differently but that just helps nothing. I’ve learned so much I can’t unlearn and that was necessary either way. Does it have to come with so much suffering? Apparently yes.

I have new relationships with my kids I never had before. Every day is pretty much a new kind of hard. But little by little we are figuring it out. I’m engaged and present and managing my overwhelm most of the time and connected in new ways.

But when I’m alone at night it just burns. It feels like burning alive every single night. Sometimes I’m in so much pain I wonder if I’ll even wake up. Sometimes it swallows me. It just never takes my enthusiasm for living: Thank God. Though some days it’s easier to find than others.

Right now my eyes are burning with tears and I just want sleep to gather me in her arms and tell me we are going to be ok. The tears stream gently down. Don’t they ever run out?!

I’m so much more irritable and sensitive and reactive and just a lot of things without some of my most vital needs met. I can meet them if I want, but it doesn’t replace the art of relationship. Navigating parenting is difficult under the best of circumstances and I’ve been under the worst for a long time.

I just want a glimmer is that too much to ask. I can’t even be miserable my life is blessed and fulfilling and I’m happy in so many new ways. But all this love and energy with no place to go eats me alive sometimes. It sits like a stone in my stomach. All these memories of so many things play on loop.

Oh good it’s almost 9; that means I can finally fall asleep and I won’t wake up at 3, 4 and 5 respectively. Tomorrow is a very long day. I have a series of doctors appointments, my first mammogram, errands for a procedure on Tuesday and 7 clients I believe.

Please take this pain … I’m shocked that pain like this doesn’t kill you…… mr sandman bring me a dream.

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Having your reality denied as a child/adult…..

“How a parent figure treated you is not a reflection of who you are. You do not need to be a reflection of their unprocessed trauma.” “Trauma occurred when we consistently betrayed ourselves for love, were consistently treated in a way that made us feel unworthy or unacceptable resulting in a severed connection to our authentic self.” “Trauma creates the fundamental belief that we must betray who we are in order to survive.” – How to do the Work by Dr. Nicole Lepera.

This book is my life raft this morning. I’m in a state of discomfort. I experienced a profound trigger yesterday on top of an already profound loss. Any situation that does not leave room for my feelings to exist is so similar to my childhood. A mother whose constant mood shifts, suicide threats and attempts, contempt and jealousy for and of me, and a variety of other things. Her overall lack of maturity, insight, awareness, and any variety of nurturing left me in a constant state of hyper vigilance.

The way I ended up coping with this was by having the capability to soothe and rescue her emotionally. Whether I was always innately good at this or whether that was developed as a necessity I may never know. But I was only able to feel good about my self by how useful I was at being useful. It never freely existed because of who I was and who she was. What every child deserves. In addition to my mother I assumed this role with my grandparents who put their hands up in helplessness. Parented my brother, not well I might add, and then felt guilty about that. I raised me, and him, and my mother, for them. I became a mind reader, a mood reader, a soother. So I feel alive when I am doing these things, they are as natural as breathing for me.

Thus paving my career as a psychotherapist. The seer is rarely seen, until they see themselves properly enough to know what is deserved. At least at work I get paid for it, and I’m beginning to refuse to do this with my precious time that is mine. Becoming protective of my time, peace, self.

The only thing saving me lately while mucking around in all my old stuff are the friends that show up for me. Getting myself out of that triggered state by talking through it, feeling my feelings and employing various self care strategies. Yesterday’s event landed me with a severe migraine and having to cancel my evening. I went to bed at six pm. Medicated and miserable. The toll on my body and heart is tremendous.

Abandoning a loved one in need to save myself from manipulation leaves me feeling distraught on so many levels. I end up feeling bad for the manipulator and that’s not an option. Particularly when my needs always get twisted into something going on with them. In a secure and safe relationship the need would have been met naturally. Asked for in a productive and healthy way, and my needs would have already been being met. Safe and secure. Clear and direct.

“Trauma creates the fundamental belief that we must betray who we are in order to survive.”

My attachment system can betray me at every turn. Obsessive checking/hope for closeness with an unsafe source, regardless of logic. It’s so frustrating. Perhaps a review of what love is and what it is not is in order. A continuous inventory of this and then checked out against the list. Attachment is my proverbial Achilles heal. Once I have attached it’s set in stone, unless that attachment is neglected and then as we have seen I can fly out of it real quick. I am all in or all out, and I’m working on the in between and deciding with much more agency what and whom to be attached to. This is the most important part.

https://www.raptitude.com/2012/11/what-love-is-not/. This article is really good. It highlights the difference between desiring something and truly what love is about.

“Anyone with their own level of unresolved feelings will generally feel uncomfortable with a child’s expression of feelings and may cope by attempting to dismiss them. The child’s experience may activate similarly painful past memories for the parent-figure (these are often unconscious) who tends to push the child to repress or ignore the feelings that are coming up. The problem is that the child was having a legitimate feeling and looking to be comforted and supported; instead they were told the pain was inconsequential. Through repeated similar experiences, a child is taught that their perception of reality and related emotional experiences are not trustworthy.” Page 49. How to do the work.

Love is not being dismissed, redirected, a lack of transparency, manipulation, gaslighting. Regardless of how much the person wants you.

Love shows up consistently and safely always. Love is able to work through things because a solid foundation of honest and healthy boundaries makes that so. Let it be so. Love does not avoid a partners needs for the other partners comfort or avoidance of their discomfort. Love is selfless not selfish.

I vow to have the courage to walk away from love that is not founded in the things I want and need. To remember my ACEs (adverse childhood experiences) and how high that number is. How I’m lucky to be alive and I will not forfeit that gift and all of mine for anything. How capable I am to share my healing with the world, and how important that work is.

I felt to be legitimate I must be chosen and belong to a human and their family. That feeling is like heroin for me. However I was never choosing myself enough to be choosy about that decision. Abundance over scarcity. I intend to live with an abundance mindset and attitude for the rest of my life. I watched a friends wedding video the other day, and no wonder I romanticized this. Such a belonging. And I had fallen into such scarcity that my last wedding was done in secret with none of those ingredients. I am still trying to sort out why that was a thing. What I need and want and how to stay that course……

The result of this work is a presence in my daily life that can rarely be stolen by preoccupation these days. It’s an absolute work in progress but most days I am loving it. Even the ones where I have to nurse myself back to health and acknowledge without catastrophizing, the lasting and major effects trauma has had on my body. Rather than doom and gloom this I’ll decide to keep it a motivator to steer me away from unhealthy things and continuously towards the horizons of my dreams.

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Attachment and Boundaries or Sophie and Our New Vows

Sophie and kisses

There are many gains and losses in my life right now. A mark of transition. It’s Siggy’s birthday today. Our beloved Frenchie. His time with us was way too short, and also very deep. He was glue and laughs and so many things for us for a period in our lives. He was a long time childhood dream dating back to mr Magoo and whatever cop show had that bulldog in the office. A reminder I’ll always keep working at bringing my dreams and longings to life.

Our family attachment connections sometimes feel so short. Attach, detach, learn. Always determined to see how I have it wrong, and these days I’m trying to see what I’ve gotten right and to write about it. 😉 see what I did there.

I have Sophie at the dog park today. Sophie is our German Shorthair Pointer puppy. As per usual I had a romantic notion of how this attachment would help our family grow closer. Spoiler: we almost murdered each other during the puppy phase. Lots of miscommunication and a mother who was barely breathing. Not present at all. Resentments mounted, the troops revolted. And I’d like to think mom got her shit together.

Well ok mom is getting her shit together. The lack of consistency (among other things) with Sophie has led to the potential of RE homing her being in the best interest of her due to my chronic illness and already being over scheduled and under present in a variety of ways. My kids took the more wise adult approach to this. Mom it’s what’s best for the dog. And yet I couldn’t quite get on board with that.

You see I’ve forgotten my true self inside all of the losses this past time. Perhaps my whole life. And we are getting an introduction now. And I refuse to have another attachment fracture or believe it’s in the best interest of the dog. So one step at a time I’m going to learn to be a good dog parent to Sophie and get her needs met, just like I’ve done with my children. It’s not perfect but it’s ours and lately I’m seeing more fruit and less labor. Thank the Lord because these old bones are aching and cracking as the new ones take their place. I insist upon believing I can regenerate myself. If Liz Gilbert and all my hero’s can then do can I.

Wake me up inside ! I’m awake and alive and not going down without a fight.

You look wonderful tonight. What a beautiful song. I rewarded myself with nails after the muddy dog park. Touch. Bliss.

Anyway so we are rising to occasions around here. All of us. This gives me pause to acknowledge some of the things I’ve done right. My kids. My kids are kind to people. Warm welcoming versus distrusting and ever the victim of something, or any other defense we develop in response to pain. They will have to work through some fawn trauma responses I’m quite sure and some unmet needs and the resulting stories. I have no doubt in my mind that they will, and this is a new place for me. My mind could be described as a mine field of self doubt and horror for most of it. And I’m working my way out of that now.

As it turns out healthy boundaries are the main ingredient I see in terms of getting in alignment with our purpose. I’m reading Dr. Nicole Lepera’s aka The Holistic Psychologist new book. How to do the work. I am always shocked to find I could have written this book, and I’m threatened to tumble into a familiar despair of feeling somehow behind the mark. Why is that the immediate reaction? I just still haven’t figured out my own voice amongst all these others. Everyone else always seems to do it better, and that’s because I’ve been invisible to myself.

A couple of days ago it was lesbian visibility day, and today I’ll make it my own personal day to celebrate all my other identifying visibilities. And everyday forward, from now on. I’m simply tired of the stories I’ve been holding about myself, and the tremendous power that has had over my choices and quality of life.

Out and proud and open and proud and warm and proud and gentle and proud and loud and proud and quiet and proud. Just proud. I’m so proud of the resilience of my tiny family and how we get back up after life brings us to our knees. I will not separate myself as the enemy or the bad guy especially with my own children. We are more on the same journey than a separate one. Could have saved myself so much suffering if I knew this before, but as they say no mud no lotus.

There’s been enough mud to breed a field of lotus. I don’t think there’s a plural of this word, would it be loti? LOL. Silly.

Anyway … which is part of my southern vernacular by the way, such as anywho….. meaning onward. Which I guess means the opposite of stay. Can you do both? I think so.

Speaking of this a quick mention about boundaries as I talk about this daily in my psychotherapy practice. It’s interesting to me how misunderstood this concept is. It can so easily become an aspect of toxic positivity rhetoric. Such as someone has triggered me therefore I’m going to place a boundary “on them” versus already knowing your own boundaries, usually from hard lessons in my experience.

You don’t put boundaries on someone and you don’t move boundaries for someone, no matter how good they feel. Know thyself and know thy boundaries and suffer less. Period. When you argue with yourself you inevitably suffer and your body has many flags it waves at you to let you know you’re out of bounds. Your bowels will tell you, your sweatiness will tell you, your bones and muscles and everything in between will tell you. Learn to listen. Listening is everything….and to act accordingly and follow through.

I’m an emotional physical therapist (I wanted to say chiropractor, but they address the symptom not the root so we can’t identify with that) and I hope to be. And a lyrical wizard. A word nerd after a favorite writer of mine…. and it’s time for some re branding I think, as excavations continue……

My commitment to me …. my vow…. my word….. which needs to mean something…is to stay with my comfort and to stay with my discomfort. To acknowledge all of me is desirable and lovable and to never abandon her.

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Burning down Co-Dependence (the house)

Burning off co-dependency often feels like burning alive. It would appear that it’s sitting with yourself even as you want to crawl out of your skin with the not doing of it all. Sigh.

I got lost…… a little song to accompany the post.

Admitting addiction is probably one of the hardest things anyone will ever have to do. It means you have to take responsibility for your own destructive patterns. Yucky. I’d much rather craft my representative (as Glennon says) and live like that. It’s much more “fun”, but is it?! Or does it just look better on the surface.

Be still and know.

Glennon and Abby are both addicts. I wonder if their love helps them manage their addiction in a well balanced way? If their shared goals of raising a family helps keeps their destructive energies focused. If their love gives them strength to fight it. About all the things you don’t see. I’m sure it’s not easy. The media makes things like that look easy and gives people a false sense of the amount of work it really takes to make things work. If you have read both their memoirs you can see that a tremendous amount of self reflection and growth preceded their love. One could even say invited it. Created space for it. Tik tok would call it manifested it.

Balance ?

Easier said than done. The rationalizing and justifying that life is short and running out and all of that. How does anyone find balance anyway? It’s an elusive concept to me right now. Even more evidence to get still with me.

I have all the tools and books surrounding me…. but the truth is I’m afraid. Really afraid of the weight of taking responsibility for myself. Funny since in most ways I’ve been doing this my whole life. What a funny thing to fear.

What looked like taking responsibility for myself was really survival, nothing was motivated from a secure place. If I didn’t have one I would make one, and hence the birth of my co-dependency.

I am working Melody Beattie Co-Dependent No More. Exciting stuff. It’s not. I want to hide it on the shelf, take off City of Girls, book a trip to Aruba and indulge. Again where is the balance? Like it’s outside of me and not possible or something. Sometimes I am ridiculous.

“We’ve ignored our own needs and wants and then get angry about it.”

“Just feeling urgent and compulsive is enough to hurt us. We keep ourselves in a crisis state.”

Set yourself free. Know the difference between a reaction that needs to be changed and one that despite its swiftness is still leading you in a direction that will correct the above.

What are my own wants and needs?

Excavations continue.

What I have learned is being out of alignment with them causes anxiety and suffering and no peace of mind. So I will get still in that place and not move from it until I am firm in those things. I don’t need to compromise those things to feel self-worth any longer. This new is scary. New is scary. It’s also exciting and lonely and sad and so many things.

I’m going to copy a post from a website. I do not remember the original poster but there’s lots of good stuff in here regarding the difference between love and a trauma bond and how to know.

“How do you know the difference between a trauma-bond and love? As the person with possibly a trauma-bond.”

Great question!!

Trauma bonding is a major part of abusive relationships. While in the trauma bond, it may be impossible to notice the difference between love and codependency. During trauma bonding, you may be bonded to the way the person (abuser) makes you feel —intense, fulfilling in some way, even attractive, indispensable.

If the trauma bond has gone for very long, you may be believing that if there is something wrong in the relationship, you may be the cause of it; that’s a consequence of emotional abuse directly. And you may be trying really hard to be better for this person “to love you back” but by then, love and codependance are the same to you.

Thinking that what you have felt for that person (the emotional manipulator) is not love will invalidate you completely, years of your life, and your sense of self.

Most people in trauma bond relationships are proud of how much they can love. They feel that their love is so sincere and accepting that makes them feel better about themselves because of it. That’s how they compensate for staying in such a relationship.

Since most people in this type of relationship are victims of trauma from before or some sort of emotional vulnerability, they may have low self esteem, low sense of worth, and may be easily manipulated in feeling grateful or in debt to the abuser.

Oftentimes, the abuser will have their own serious mental health issues, which lead the person being abused to feel the need to care for them or protect them. The abused individual will go up against other people who speak out against the partner and often push people away who aren’t supportive of the relationship in the name of the great love they have for them.

I have noticed that the abused in this type of relationship may have directed their emotional needs to feel compassion for those that suffer. That’s be a compensation for what they didn’t receive, probably in childhood. So, by caring a lot about those that suffer, they keep afloat, since compassion is a great source of resilience.

Narcissists love this behavior and will often reinforce this in the person being abused by showing them love and affection following an act of protectiveness.

So, to answer your question, since love is so difficult to define, I’d say that most people in trauma bonding situations have access to their heart, which most probably the abuser doesn’t. So, in a way, the bonding is a combination of a good/open heart and a acute emotional need of being loved, seen, appreciated, and cared for. In a way, vulnerability is the condition of opening the heart, right? The co-dependant is much less guarded than the manipulator. That type of vulnerability is a defense; loving makes them feel strong internally, even when externally they may be prone to abuse.”

Its abusive both ways because no ones needs are met and further the energy that is so vital to purpose and for our families is taken. Impossible without treatment.

Relapse is a part of recovery and admitting addiction is the first step.

Hi I’m Christina and I’m a recovering co-dependent. *waves*

And I’m committed to not doing things that make me feel like shit. No matter how good they may feel at the time. Not giving over my peace of mind for anything.

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Hopes, Dreams, Blending, Magic

It’s Sunday and if you know me you know that Sundays are for blogging and for finishing books respectively. Or starting them, or just having them sit near you in a stack like the best friends you’ve ever had.

Always there for you…. always there for you like the magnolia trees, the Sunday grocery shopper who loves me, my found family new and old. Always there for you like coffee and notepads and spring time and fall. The latter fleeting but they will always return and you will appreciate them more because they are temporary yet consistent parts of your existence you can actually depend on.

I’m finishing up Words on Bathroom Walls the book today and it’s making me think of so many things. The way we can find parts of ourselves in the stories of other people. Mirrors. Stories can be mirrors. We can take what helps and leave the rest.

Maya has just yelled at Adam for not letting her choose for herself if she can handle “his crazy”, and told him she deserves more than a crappy email, and does he love her…. well then she gets to decide.

Adam shows me how important belonging is to a human being and how hard it feels to accept belonging when you come with things that could be perceived as making life more difficult simply by existing.

Adam and I share a lot in common, and I’ve gotten lost in terms of believing in my value and sticking to that, accepting less than I deserve and being hard on myself for things that are normal and natural to ask for. I’m working through that now and staying with myself, my needs and wants.

The right things will show up naturally and be safe and secure on their own without having to work so hard. Like Adam and Maya. Just the two of them and seeing one another and accepting them as they are. It works and feels good, and the only complication is each battling with their worth based on their own struggles, regardless however they choose one another and they show up. There’s a power in that. It’s something I look forward to.

My latest homework from my energy healer was to essentially dream from the now versus getting lost in old stories of things I’ve been through. I get lost in the pain and story and go back there. I’m not going back there. I’m going forward. I have worked so hard to arrive to the point where I can go forward. I will not hold myself back in the name of these old thoughts and this old self.

What are my dreams and letting them take shape! I’m getting there.

This morning I watched a video with Abby and Glennon Doyle Wambach and Abby is distressed that her nail clippers are missing. She emphatically states how things have a place and she keeps them there and she lives with Glennon who is haphazard and comes with children. And I sat and thought about how it’s ok, she isn’t going to leave because the kids touched her nail clippers. And how many years I’ve spent not realizing I could have what I want. That someone could have their stuff but that it doesn’t threaten the relationship.

She can express herself and they can laugh it’s not an immediate threat. What a world to live in. I have felt threatened by everything so much of my life. Mostly scarcity, being a burden, that what I want doesn’t exist for me, too much. I’m afraid of being too much and she’s afraid of not being enough.

Fear is the great separator. I refuse to be separated from my priorities, my dreams, my future, my self, love, and everything else I want. It’s not an option for me.

It’s not an option for me.

My world is calm today. I had to nurse my way back from nausea, body pain, a migraine, and sadness this morning. My little comforts brought life back into me and hope. I keep moving and that gives me hope. When life brings me to my knees I get back up and keep going. And I admire the hell out of that. There’s a lot worse things and ways to deal with things than facing them head on with courage and truth, despite all the triggers and scar tissue.

My nose is cold like a puppy. I just warmed it with my hand. I breathe into it and the warm air cupped in my hand surrounds it in warmth. The magnolia trees are smiling at me from the backyard. I know they won’t be with me long, that this beauty and friendship is quite fleeting, and I know they will be back next year, and perhaps with each passing I’ll value their presence a little bit more.

I think of Glennon and Abby and Paul and Adam’s mom and all the blended families that make a mosaic out of the broken pieces and I have hope in my heart. Hope to trust the process and not work myself to death to be seen or understood. That I understand that what is meant to be will arrive and be present and accessible if my work with myself is in alignment.

I’m allowed my wants and needs and I’ll never feel bad about those or who I am. And that awareness that is finally able to be embodied and not just stated firmly with no follow through, gives me all the hope in the world.

My future is bright and hopeful and I have a lot to offer the world and partnership and my children, and my self. And this is not anywhere I’d ever believed I would find myself…..

And that is like magic……

Edit: because I hadn’t finished the book yet and now I have. Now I’m sitting in a puddle of my own tears in a very comfortable spot with aunt Annie’s pretzel bites with the bad for you cheese sauce. Somebody was asking me recently about comfort foods and I missed these little guys.

My daughter and her boyfriend picked them up for me. I can’t believe how grown my daughters are….

They have the real thing I think, my daughter and her boyfriend. The way the talk to one another and treat each other. All the skeptical thoughts want to come in about their age and being realistic. But in this moment I wonder if I haven’t done something really right after all. What if I gave them everything they need to go after what they want and the security to maintain. What if I did something right ?!

They (my kids) are certainly evidence of this. I think I might have actually done what I set out to accomplish with them. Instead of seeing myself how I’ve been stuck doing all these years….

At the end of the book Adam, who is writing to his therapist the whole time, finally tells his therapist what they mean to him. After being sarcastic and pushing away…. he says to his therapist, “I want yoy to know that I get that reading whatever is on my mind isn’t an easy thing for someone to do. It probably changes you a little, having to get into people’s heads every day.” Yes it does Adam.

I felt seen. I feel seen.

Maya helps Adam realize that his hallucinations are a part of him, particularly Rebecca. Maya suggests Adam comfort Rebecca. “Maya she’s not real! “She needs you and she’s a part of you, Maya said simply.” “Stop punishing yourself for something you can’t control.”

And ugly crying….

“You mean stop punishing her.” It’s the same thing remember?”

This is my why of wanting to write. Wanting to commit to the sacred practice of story having the power to show people to themselves and to make them feel things. To create and bring awareness and so many other things.

*where the magic happens* the writing don’t be ridiculous;)

Ps I think I need a nightstand lol. Though I like the simplicity for now. I’ll know when I’m ready for those steps. Right now I’m in between….. and that’s ok.

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The Simple Things

My daughter brought me coffee in the bath this morning and I literally burst into tears. Funny because I had made one but it just wasn’t that good, and she shows up with a “special coffee”, and takes the other off my bath tray and says, “we’ll just get this out of here”. And she was happy and light and that is worth everything in the world.

It’s been a year of scarcity, a scarcity I never wanted my kids to feel. And yet their connection with me, the intimate one, has felt scarce much of their life I think. Because in my mind I was lost, and I had a belief system of how to fix that and stuck carefully to that line.

That connection is healing. I’m watching it bloom like the magnificent magnolias out my bedroom window that comfort me daily. It’s giving me a security and push to be more of all I already am. I didn’t know I could have love like that with my children. I only knew the way I was doing things. Compartmentalizations. I got my needs from a partner and provided their needs as best I could, but actual connection… I never realized how terrifying that was for me based on my model.

We use templates and apply them over experiences and it can be so damaging, but it’s the way the human brain works. My template for mother child relationship and parent child relationship in general is absolutely devastating. It’s such an area of anxiousness and I can only see now how it’s been operating in my life, distancing me from my own children.

The truth is I never felt worthy of a connection with my children. I believe in earning our relationships not by titles and I perhaps made it harder than it needed to be. By never owning that I’m their mother for giving birth to them. Mine gave birth to me and never became a mother. It makes sense I made life more complicated than it need be, because life was always complicated for me. I wanted to make myself safe and secure before I involved them in my needs. I knew instinctively I would have taken from them in a way that was unrealistic. So I tried to meet those needs in the adult realm and preserve their childhood. That’s what I chose.

That relationship was never safe, mine with caregivers of any kind. It was so unsafe it would stagger you. I think you would cry. When I talk about it, it’s automatic that it feels I did something wrong. I must have, or that maybe I’m making it up, maybe it was all me. I was a difficult child, it was me, and the story gets twisted and I tremble with anxiety.

To remedy this I just put it all the way out of my mind. It’s too difficult to reconcile, and yet unexplored it was operating constantly in my life.

Sometimes survival looks a lot like selfishness.

These are the crossed wires of my existence. My critics landed on a story about me, and that was their experience. I scrambled for love and belonging and I had full good intentions, and a wholly unexplored self. You would think if you knew me this would be impossible, but I, just like anyone else with experiences like mine, constructed reality to be barely bearable, to even survive.

I’ve been categorized as selfish and putting myself before my children and criticized and judged primarily by the one person who actually bore witness to some of the horrors. He is one of the only people I know who met the empty gaze of my terrifying mother, and saw my grandparents all but offer him a dowry to take me off their hands. Just wow.

Any man that came around was an opportunity to unload one of the evil stepsisters. (Their daughters) and then me. They offered my father money to take my mother off their hands, and tried to push me on him, making me a burden rather than his daughter.

When I was young I was Tom boy and against the grain I liked Ninja Turtles rather than Barbie. I got a ninja turtle camera that imprinted a little insignia of Michael Angelo on the bottom right corner. I took a bunch of pictures while visiting my dads home. Of his art because it was so different than my grandparents. There was a half naked woman wrapped around a snake. I remember it vividly. I thought I was being a photographer. I was using my imagination.

What happened from that is that my grandparents saw how much money he appeared to have based on my photos and I became a spy from them and associated with my mother. No matter what I did as a child I kept doing something wrong or bad. I was wrong with my grandparents by sabotaging their efforts to get my father to take responsibility for me (someone had to), and I was wrong with my dad for guilt by associating and being a spy.

I was being an imaginative child. To be misunderstood in this way was devastating to my self in so many ways. I’ve spent the rest of my life feeling I need to work so hard to be seen.

These things were my fault. I was shamed for my behaviors, all normal for someone not being invested in or merely even wanted. He disappeared shortly after this. He would blame my grandparents and my mother for us never having a relationship. That’s what you did then I guess. Start a new family and not look back rather than be attached to crazy. I was a casualty and when I look back I see that at that time I was the perpetrator somehow.

I was the problem.

So when someone does something nice for me in this half of my life. Doesn’t matter how many years later it’s incredibly emotional, and also unearths tons of unworthiness and I better do something right back, or I will lose them. A normal process becomes intense for me, and I am shamed for being intense. Sometimes it’s so emotional that I freeze and the person is left feeling less than fulfilled by my response. They don’t know me enough to know it’s locked inside and it means more than they know.

Every little thing means more than you can imagine.

This also makes the bad things amplified. I have less room maybe than your average person for harsh. I’m fragile in certain ways and up til this point I’ve made myself wrong for that too.

I am on the brink of owning who I fucking am and excavating my identity out of the ashes of the lives I keep burning down because I didn’t know any other way.

The brink is an exciting place to be and it is also a terrifying one. Pleasure and pain and when those things get out of balance it can threaten an entire soul. Particularly an already tired one.

It’s almost too much responsibility To be whole on ones own. Am I worthy? Someone easily would reply yes, my loyal travelers would. But that is not so easy for me to come to terms with. It is almost too uncomfortable to be comfortable. The story of my life. The restless takes over like a tornado ready to upturn the crops I’ve painstakingly planted.

I am working on it…..

This morning I will enjoy my coffee, my delicious coffee with love in it. I’ll let it lighten my step and give me energy to face the trials and the beauty of the day. Sometimes those things are equally difficult.

It hurts to be human…..

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Running on Empty

Some dreams you take down, and some dreams come together unexpectedly. I’m hopeful for the latter.

In this period of utter groundlessness I’m sifting through mine.

I had a dream a little over a year ago to become a foster parent. If you have ever seen me pursue a dream you might chuckle, but for those who haven’t I’ll describe it. It’s a sprint. My mind is quite effective when focused so within a few months of the idea we had a crib set up in our room, bunk beds in another one of the rooms, and the mounds of paperwork were being cruised through.

I set the scene swiftly and effectively. There’s a gift and a curse in this way of doing things.

For me it takes much longer to dismantle a dream (particularly if I’m not ready to let go of it) than it does to try and create the conditions for it to exist. Perhaps I heard the Wendy’s commercial of Dave whispering “if you build it they will come” one too many times in childhood. Once again my entire life shaped by the television.

Anyway my family and I took cpr classes and we attended the foster classes and that’s when I realized so much of me was still the child rather than someone capable of steadfast patience in the face of a child that can’t regulate. I saw myself in the videos and vignettes of children experiencing abuse, and I wanted to look away, but I didn’t.

I remember avoiding the call and exit interview of the class teachers who thought we were the perfect candidates. I could not face that down at the time. I couldn’t face a lot of things.

Being honest with myself about that was one of the hardest moments of my life and everything that came after… the stuff of nightmares.

Lost identity, lost security, lost dreams, lost self, illness, terror…. I cannot even go in further into that.

My 100 yard dash came to a screeching halt and I set out to see myself and the relationships with my own children more clearly. This very difficult task continues. I am humbled daily. I am ill equipped to parent teenagers and the struggle for self love during this time is immense.

Anyone who heard me say ill equipped would laugh I suspect, anyone but my ex husband and a few scorned critics out there. In the traditional sense I’m not, but most often weathering the. “You’re ruining my life phase” and the bite back from rules is extra difficult for me because of my ten thousand triggers. Some newly acquired unfortunately, and many old.

I’m a piss poor punching bag who is simultaneously acutely aware of the need of teens to practice their independence with their parent and the parent still loving them. My off switch is immense. The love is never off but the response is and that breaks my heart. I’m working on it 🙁

Boundaries are hard. I’ve had to create the whole system from scratch. I’m getting emotional as I write this. I wonder if anyone in their whole life has ever tried so hard to become a mother while underneath the weight of their burgeoning painful mind filled with trapped and inaccessible memories that would run their life subconsciously. Now that I wrote that I’m sure many. That makes me sad.

I’m sad most days, which is better than irritable, scattered, panicky etc. Sad is ok apparently, according to my therapist. I don’t want to waste a second of life, but I’d imagine acknowledging and connecting to my own emotions is anything but a waste.

I woke up sad today. There’s many things behind that, many reasons. So I’ll just hang out in the bath where my tears can trickle freely and it’s warm and quiet and safe.

I can barely figure out what I feel like eating lately, and whatever the mood is for does not go well with my stomach. This loss of love in enjoying the art of it all is disappointing, nay, soul crushing. My soul feels crushed by an emotion like sadness and I want for that to have some balance.

On the flip side when I am able to come up for air, everything is new and beautiful. The pink blossoms are blooming on the trees in the backyard, and that alone is a comfort beyond all comforts. It helps me ignore the rotting wood of the deck that needs replacing, and the current state of the pool. And all the other things in my life that are falling apart that are teaching me it’s ok for one thing to come together at a time.

Deciding which thing to focus on always felt like the problem. Little did I know the extent of that. I will abide in a state of surrender and let the problems wear themselves out rather than me wearing myself out.

Surrender. Boundaries. Time.