#parenthood – Page 7 – The Emotional Alchemist

July 8, 2018

The angry ex club post process: the conclusion …

*from left to right in the picture: my gorgeous wife, myself, my son (biological), twin B, their father behind them, my other son (“adopted”), twin A, and my other son’s mother, a warrior of a woman who has taught me a lot.

And now the epiphany out of that storm of self inflicted suffering. I am taking a light writing course from Martha Beck. Elizabeth Gilbert is also participating and they have been sharing life changing talks together. The process of light writer is to go deeply into the painful thing, sit with what’s in there, and come out the other side with a healthier (lighter) view of things.

Yesterday something felt dangerous. Made me feel so angry and wrapped up in those feelings. Intense dark feelings. It was the feeling of my lovers scorned congregating and making small comments to shame my character in front of my son. The energy of it all whether it was spoken or not. That felt terrifying to me. My ex husband learning or becoming close to people I had once been very close to felt threatening. Discomfort. In earlier times these feelings could easily have whipped themselves into a frenzied storm lending me to lash out to all who violated me.

Instead I sat with the feelings. Talked and walked. And then last night after a special wedding event that turned out fantastic, my son and I had a deep conversation. It probably was the wedding itself, that made us all feel so close and able to have that happen. He came into the bedroom, my wife and were in bed, and he cuddled and talked. The second he brought up spending time with the three I began to prickle with fear of how the conversation might go.

Deeply insightful my young man is and he began to unravel some things he recognized. Now here is the fear part. I’m such an open book, and one of the hardest parts is knowing what to filter. I said some of my truths and he got very quiet and a noticed a tear trickle down the side of his voice. So covertly I could have not noticed. Could have gone to bed and let it be. We were all oh so tired.

Instead I asked: and he resisted. He knew what he had to say could make me upset. Like me he always thinks ten steps ahead when it comes to someone’s feelings. But I pushed as I knew it needed to happen. The break needed to happen. Breaks are so often more the through variety than the down variety, and we rarely trust in this and know this gift.

He began to sob and was overcome by empathy for my situation and made himself the perpetrator in the scenario. He was so sorry that he had done any possible thing to be disloyal or participate with people who don’t respect me, because he loves me so much. He just kept apologizing. And of course I froze in terror. I had said to much. I did the wrong thing. Here was my son taking responsibility for my very big feelings, and I had caused that. The temptation to self loathe begins.

This is where my wife steps in and is that translator for me. She says the things that fear freezes. She and I were comforting. Myself with holding physically because my mind was racing to all the fearful places. And her with gentle words. Helping him see how heavy it would be to try and take on all feelings for all adults. How he must release himself from that obligation for it is too much for anyone.

He sobbed and sobbed and I feared and feared. Feared he was not ok, and boy have I done it so wrong. Every worst fear snarled and bit. The best I can do during those times is stay still and wait so I can learn.

He had an amazingly hard cry. And what is our model for such catharsis? Oh my god there’s something wrong! It shouldn’t be that way. Being in the presence of such raw emotion coming from your child weaves a tale that sometimes isn’t true. This is why I am sharing this story. People are terribly uncomfortable with what they do not understand, and they tell a story about a situation that makes sense. They forge a scaffolding that reduces their discomfort, and sadly also blocks and covers the possibility for truth to rise out of this situation.

As my son began to calm down, and his thoughts became more clear and realistic, it was like seeing someone who has been released from prison after ten long years. He was light and joyful, and all of his thoughts opened up to him. And all that fear and pain went with the shed tears. What was left over: was light and love.

We cannot be afraid of our children’s big feelings. We must embrace all of it. Their fears also. It does not mean we aren’t doing a good job when they cry. For me watching this, once the grips of my terror let go of me, I could see and hear that he needed that cry. He is very articulate and was able to tell me. But as parents we must learn how to see this, the need for it, without being told.

We became unburdened of our tales woven together with fear fabric. And the after is where closeness exists. This is why and how to find closeness that we are starving for. It’s by sitting in the feelings, and waiting for the catharsis that they are meant to achieve. If we cut things off at the feelings we do a great disservice.

After we had the most amazing conversation filled with understanding, compassion, and love. I broke into all of my fears about my exes adjourning. I realized outside of fear, rejection, and especially ego. What exists is that I just want them to have the same amount of happy that I have found. I want them to be happy and not stuck in repeating stories or patterns that don’t serve them.

I am able to let go of the fears my son will be influenced by their energy, or that anyone could hold the power to effect my relationship with my children except me. This one is huge for me. Our connection is not an easily breakable thing, the way that most of mine have been. I found me using a template too for the world. And that one has so much fear of loss.

Last night I saw how much my son loves me and looks up to me, and how close we are. And I am able to realize that I built that. When children are young they give blindly and can be really harmed in this way. I was always afraid I was the mom that was given to me. Now I am able to realize the gift she gave is that having seen all that I did, I was given the awareness I needed to know the choices before me.

That awareness has sometimes felt like a curse as I fumbled through the dark wood of error most of the first half of my life. My kids know and have felt that fear filled mother who seemed off in her own world trying to find her way out of hell.

I know their lives have been influenced by this. I am keenly aware. But I am no longer afraid that this is the worst possible life they could have had. That is an old story, that was my story at another time.

I am happy to say it no longer is, and it was never theirs. That has taken every ounce of my soul to not recreate in pattern. Making subconscious conscious, and working my way through. And do you know how it shows ? It shows through in their character. My children are so much more than good grades and politely polished.

My children are going to know the courage to pursue lives that feel like their own creation. My children know how to connect deeply with others. My children will never have to wonder if their mother truly loves them. My children have a mother that will help them learn to love themselves, and not just pursue some idea of success based on society.

I will ask my children how they feel, and not tell them how they should. I will strive for this always. I am enough. I am not where I came from, but the more that I live I am grateful for my beginning. There is no other choice. I couldn’t be who I am today without it.

In two short (long) days I am free of the prison of those emotions of all those stories I could have kept. I have no more anger for ex partners. I only wish them light and love. After all who am I to judge their path and what they need to find their own forgiveness and forward motion. Maybe what they are doing is exactly what they need.

June 19, 2018

An Open Letter to My Children before Our New Adventure.

To my first born children, before this new addition rocks our lives.

Tyler I remember when I finished my Master’s Degree how vehemently you asked that I not pursue my PHd, which turns out is the best decision for us anyway. The point though, was you wanted your mom back. From all the school, from all the stress, and from being inside her head.

I know you all do.

And here we are about to bring a new life into this world. It seems insane sometimes doesn’t it? If things at times seem so hard now why? If you’re so stressful (how you might feel sometimes, not true) and mom is so stressed, why have another!? You must wonder about this at times. I know Court and I have.

Why with shootings, and so much evil, and already what can feel like not enough to go around, why bring another? Note: we have so much more than enough already in terms of resources and love.

You must all wonder some of these things, because Courtney and I are often talking about all the aspects. And you need to be able to share your feelings too. Even the scared ones, or ones that might not be easily received. Because this is how we sort out our feelings, and truer realizations rise to the surface after.

No truer words will ever be spoken than: I loved you first and you have made me who I am now. Every part of me who you watch loving this baby well, is who she is because of you. Courtney has me now because of you, and I have her now because of you.

If it weren’t for you I wouldn’t be helping people. You give me courage and strength. Your unconditional love healed so many things in me, when I didn’t even know that was possible. When I didn’t even know it was happening. I thought I was barely scraping by, but it turns out I held the key to happiness in my pocket all the time. I have only to look at your faces when they light up with passion, to know that.

I’m everything I am because you chose me as a mother. I’m beginning to believe with some mystical unknown force that we choose our parents to provide the tasks we need to fulfill our destiny in life. This happens without us knowing, but I bet it’s true.

And I believe this baby will choose us to be it’s family. Because with every new adventure we are also healed you know? You can’t watch unconditional love and joy, the kind babies possess, without being changed. Being touched by that kind of love has transformed me over and over, and you will always have been the beginning of that.

You are the heart of everything I do, never separate from me, the way it’s easy to believe. We aren’t loose particles floating aimlessly in the air, how I felt at one time. We are the roots of a great red wood tree. We will go see them someday. (In California). We are intertwined, strong, safe, sacred. We are growing things that will be important to the world, that are already.

I want us to talk about our feelings about this adventure as it unfolds. I want to create space for your fears, the way Courtney does for mine. Because it heals. I want you to watch how I was with you as a mother when you were little and know how loved you are. Know that I held you just as tenderly. And to watch Courtney experience the blessing of becoming a mother. How it grows and changes her heart the way it has mine.

I want you to have these experiences, closely intertwined with a family that loves you with all their hearts. Because that’s what you have, and I realize more and more that’s what I have too.

All my love,

Mom

June 11, 2018June 11, 2018

Emotional parenting versus logical, part 1.

We need both, a tall order to be sure. It seems like I’m better at logical (the lessons), and everyone else the emotional.

*my blog posts are very long. I am aware, and working now at knowing the ideal is shortened into easily eatable portions. Part of what I do is show my whole process of talking through the feelings. So if you hang in for the whole ride, rather than dismissing for too overwhelming; you might find some special gifts within. My writing comes out raw. I am working on the process of making it more concise and readable. This one has a lot of personal emotion that isn’t resolved yet, so will likely read that way.

I Hope it makes some parents feel less alone.

I am in the parenting trenches again. No surprise there. Three children 16 yr old boy, and 14 year old twin girls provides this gauntlet for me. I finally learned being hard on myself doesn’t help. So here I am talking through my feelings about this, because that does. Whether it’s hearing myself, being willing to look inside, or someone else validating and jumping in with the ability to ask more questions to open more up: it is certainly better than holding myself hostage with intermittent beatings. That’s what I used to do, because I thought it was the only way. Actually I didn’t think, it was only instinct, the not thinking was the problem. This is how counseling can help. With a skilled professional things can often be seen and understood, that no one could have pointed out before. When it’s done well, it feels like magic taking place.

A favorite quote from The Myth of Sysiphus, “we get into the habit of living before the habit of thinking.” When I first saw these words they hit me like a lightning bolt of truth, and thankfully they stuck.

In our lives we go along with what are most often good intentions, but also a lot of misunderstanding of ourselves and others, assumptions, and a huge ol’ reservoir of pain. Only a courageous few turn their attention inward and are brave enough to weather the storms of self-doubt and shame. These are the people who enter my office.

As no surprise parenting is a big subject of work I do as a counselor. This includes parenting myself along the way, often becoming a parent figure that was needed to the client, etc. So for me to sit down and write my parenting shortcomings, fears, struggles, and hopefully victories too, is part of this beautiful work.

A hot topic today is kids behavior with regard to parents being very scared of providing consequences. We are very scared right now, and hold onto what we can to feel safe, even if that is an illusion. Control does not necessarily provide safety. Yet we try so hard at it, often unconsciously and often not with great results.

To further complicate matters often many people (including myself) are navigating the choppy waters of blending a family, and often lots of pain exists from the divorce that can accidentally be coming into play. A lot of that happens in my particular situation.

A fantastic strength in my family is my wife always educating herself when she feels lost, or more appropriately as an impassioned response to seeing me feel lost. We don’t scratch and bite at one another, she doesn’t point out what a poor job I’m doing. As I’ve stated I was good enough at that in the past.

So last night she found and we both read two articles I found very helpful and I want to post them here.

Why Children aren’t Behaving and What You Can Do About it

Navigating the Complex Emotional Terrain of Teenage Girls (also has helpful info for boys as well)

To not be repetitive I’ll let you read those for the expert advice and I’ll just go into my experience below:

With three children it seems like there is almost always a storm, and you get an occasional respite in between. During this time however you know you must scramble quickly to prepare for the next. That is the objective, not to play and refresh with them, because of course you must care for them. Lately I am thinking the play and refresh is equally as important. So perish at sea because you didn’t practically prepare, but die happy and smiling? Is this the only way.

All or nothing is still a struggle for me. As a Highly Sensitive Person (HSP) being overwhelmed is such a big part of my life, and all or nothing is the unpasteurized symptom. I have to work really hard at getting calm and feeling capable so I can choose one thing and tackle it, and then the next and then the next.

So I have the semi-typical situation where my children’s father (my ex husband) comes in every other weekend and sometimes mid week and spends time with the kids. I get paid the correct child support, and he is a good father to them in so many ways. My situation is more the exception than the rule. But that doesn’t mean we don’t have our struggles. One of the main ones being: being on the same page, especially as the kids get older, about rules, and staying consistent. Particularly if one parent is prone to having it be more important to disagree with the other parents rules, and then the kids pick up on that energy and run with it.

It makes everything the one parent is trying to instill that much harder. Example: 14 year old daughter who has been struggling with controlling her emotions becomes grounded. Now I don’t know how grounding changes with age for you other parents out there, but in our home it used to be for a period of time. I learned it was important this time be realistic. As they are older and so much more is going on, sports, social events, school functions, balancing so much, it gets harder to keep grounding in place. I own my own business and see other families for counseling as well. I am often run down.

What I have learned though is accountability is a key component in anyone’s character. When I was let out of it as a child I became not the best person to others. Also all the pain I had endured helped me give myself a free pass on important ways of behaving and treating people. Enthusiasm for life should not trump attention to how we treat people along the way.

My 14 year old when she gets lost in her emotions (age normative) will mow over anyone else in the name of her intensity. It’s a behavior I recognize as important to address now, while it can be, before it becomes a category 5.

With my discipline I have gotten to the point where the new guidelines are that punishment ends when you show that you fully understand your part in things, and are not blaming others for getting grounded. My daughter is still saying that I did this to her, or I’m ruining her life, versus her realizing her behavior dictates the consequence. This seems one of the hardest lessons.

Because their Father sees them less I think it’s much harder for him to want to spend that limited time going up against them. I can sympathize with him, it must be hard. But the bigger picture of what they also need to learn is important too. And what makes it harder for me also becomes harder for them in the end. When I get support and don’t have to do it (the hard parts of parenting) on my own, I then also have a lot more room to be fun and enjoy my relationship with them.

As a child I could get around any consequence, because I wasn’t really parented, and it did me no favors later in life. I was difficult to say the least and my relationships struggled. I couldn’t empathize very well, because I could just get my way. I didn’t have to sit in my feelings, or be asked to change. So this is a hot button of importance to me as a parent.

So the situation is that my daughter comes to me last night and says: “Mom I’ll be gone these days with my friends in New York. Dad is taking us. Anyone notice the first issue here? She’s telling me, not asking me. I haven’t heard a word about this from their Dad, he didn’t check in with me about those dates or if she had earned that privilege by first really working at how she is speaking to her family, and how she behaves when she is comfortable.

So of course I lost it with stress. It’s exhausting to go up against just teenagers, let alone to have all the ground work I am laying be destroyed in a mere few moments.

Everyone wants to be the fun parent, and see that delight on the kids faces when they are happy. Who doesn’t?! But someone also has to do the work. If one person is working, and the other is playing, it’s grossly unfair. And often this isn’t so much a product of bad parenting as it is of circumstance. Certain circumstances require even more effort if you want kids to learn to hold themselves accountable for their actions. While at a young age they can’t be expected to be able to accomplish this task yet, the groundwork still needs to be laid. In my opinion anyway. It is their job to find their own voice in fighting back, but it is the parents job to provide good boundaries. It truly is how they know they are loved, versus because a parent doesn’t. Which is how a consequence is seen emotionally.

For the purpose of length let’s make this a 2 part blog post. Stay tuned for some more information and the follow up.

I will end with a piece of my personal work that I want to be vulnerable about as a parent. Individual focused attention on each child. Even as I type those words I tremble with fear at how to rearrange my life, and what life throws at you to accommodate this. This is the medicine my children are requesting from me in so many words. And I have only myself to hold accountable to meet that need. If I blame anyone else, or the divorce, or my work schedule, etc etc, then I cannot grow.

I must grow…

June 7, 2018

Into the Abyss of My Story

“And Then She Danced”

“You’re the mom and I’m the baby”, she always said. No truth could ever illuminate my early life more. That first time she held me and looked into my eyes, she also said “you had a wisdom in your eyes I knew you already were beyond me.” Sometimes I wish she didn’t take that so literally.

That day was the first and last day I was a baby. Now at thirty seven I might as well be eighty eight. I’ve often felt like an alien in this life. The self-doubt was the worst part, when you are your own parent how do you know if you’re going the right way and doing the right things.

I had an innate curiosity and enthusiasm that rocked me tightly through the storms. I was conscientious to a fault. I remember watching movies and always wanting “to be the good guy.” My insides would tighten when someone was harmed or in danger. I wanted to jump through the screen and protect them, the fatal flaw was that I always believed that I could. And that I never included myself in that equation.

How could I, I was born to be strong. That’s what they all needed from me.

I sought my Father for safety, nose pressed to the glass a hundred times he didn’t show. My heart broke again and again. Bonded and left wondering. He smelled like Polo cologne, the green bottle. He smoked a pipe, was strong and smart, and had big dogs I adored. He was the safer bet I thought. Except he didn’t bet on me.

My salvation, is that so many others have.

My human angels that just reached out and saw my heart. They loved my enthusiasm and my smile. To them I wasn’t too much. To them I was someone to be enjoyed. They brought me into their families and I watched and learned all I could.

My grandparents meant well and they tried. Good church going folk doing the right thing raising their daughter’s out of wedlock baby. Whispers through the church they were the saints, I was the sinner, and my mom was never mentioned except with pity, as those with mental illness often are. Rigidly religious, shame was the ruler of this roost.

Everyone had sympathy for my birth and praise for the grandparents who saved me. Similarly later in life everyone pitied my husband, a good man, when I left him after the realization I was gay. Inside I struggled for years, wanted to end my life, and entered therapy. Outside I had an affair, and my character diminished. I was always dark and twisted, something to be feared. Why then did others see so much light in me? The ultimate confusion.

I became everything I hated and wanted to fight against. I had already been that for quite some time, but strong always speaks louder, in these situations. So naturally now that I had the whole big answer: being gay. I pressed fiercely forward towards love. I fell in love fast and hard. Dripping with desperation.

I needed a parent not a lover, but I didn’t know at the time.

When Love was the vehicle that finally illuminated all my broken parts, I could begin the healing process. The critics were immense. There were more than those that cheered me on. Self-doubt again was my constant companion.

Another trip into hell, and another trip… it would take me hundreds before I emerged.

As a result I have this gift. People feel seen and safe in my presence. When I expected myself to be everything that saved just one, all my own triggers were brought forth. Through the process of honing my healing powers in graduate school, and with the teachers that sprung forth my heart was thawing out. Boundaries were a constant lesson, and the better I got at them, the more healing occurred. I could help people without pouring my entire being into them.

I could find a real and genuine empathy for others I was closely involved with, and not just the strangers on the street. My heart was thawing. The tears could finally fall freely. I had learned to refer to myself as a good mother without flinching and immediate disbelief. I began to learn how to play. I found healthy love, and a meaning filled career. I wake up each day looking forward to it now.

The title of my memoir that has rolled over and over in my head emerged:

And Then She Danced….

June 5, 2018June 6, 2018

Day One of My Eighth Life

Day one…. again

We have 17 follicles. Tears are gently falling into the Raisin Bran I am eating out of a mug. It’s so surreal. This moment. This is life number 8. In this life I am loved with every bit of what I didn’t have in the previous ones.

In this life I am a good mother not just practically, but emotionally. A strong partner and a financial provider. I blink twice and pinch myself once.

It’s still true.

My teenagers could feel angry or resentful about this. Nervous they will lose the number one spot in my heart. Nervous they never had it. Because I went back and got my own child, now I’ve scooped them up too. So they are so excited for a baby sibling.

I am 37 years old and going to be a new mother again.

On this other side of things how much of an oak will I be? I’m figuring out at this stage of knowing myself my limits begin to get real when someone I love suffers. In the words of the great Maya Angelou, “You have to have courage to love somebody. Because you risk everything. Everything.”

Courage is something I’ve never been in short supply of, but I’ve also never had so much to lose. I’m in that strange in between where I’m fully embracing it, but also can’t help “the rug will be pulled out mentality.” It’s fainter now, but the body remembers even after the mind has healed.

My body regularly reminds me I’m a survivor.

The only thing I may have never doubted is my strength. Now I must wonder about that? I didn’t know I could love a family so much that if a member of them suffers and I have to watch; shards of glass throughout my whole body. Don’t move it will hurt.

Being strong before was my only choice. Now that I’m thawed out what will happen when we face a trial? I’m scared. You get scared when you’re soft. When you’ve aligned all your fragments, you can get scared. They never told me this would happen. This is a beautiful scared. The other was a terrible scared.

We are having a baby. Today is day one of my 8th life within 1. I am a good mother. I will be a good mother.

This much love might just be the scariest thing I have ever faced….

May 25, 2018June 6, 2018

Beach Blankets, Bookstores, and Blog Posts

I’ve had a very hard time slowing lately. So semi-unintentionally ending up at the beach today is likely no accident. My love and I have the day off together, and the only thing I came across was to bring her to RJ Julia Independent Book Sellers in Madison, CT. Coincidentally, they also have a cafe. The Chardonnay Rosemary cupcake is particularly a delight. My weight watchers program is going fabulously thanks for asking 😉 ha.

Hammonasset Beach is a delight for the senses. How is it that I have been so engrossed in the seemingly necessary non-magical aspects of life, that I have not taken more time for such things? Slow down Christina. “But how?”, she asks. I have not felt my toes in the sand for as long as I can remember. And even when I have, my mind scurries like Beatles scattering in a beam of light, to the next, and the next great indulgence. I’m beginning ten more things just as I’ve opened the cover of one.

I began to write a blog post last Sunday. My family and I attended the Pride Festival in Northampton, Massachusetts. I felt inspired to share some pieces of my journey with being a lesbian, and why we march. But that got lost in the abyss of motherhood and “wifery”, and the pure presence I am trying so hard to bestow my loved ones with. I am finding with how I am wired this is not the easiest task.

Last night I came home from a day of seeing clients. My son seemed a bit frustrated with a response I gave him, likely something to do with finances. When overwhelmed (which happens easily and often for me) my first instinct seems to be to pull my turtle head into its shell and disappear. Don’t get me wrong from inside the shell I am still orchestrating the events that are vital to the running of our lives, but I wouldn’t say that you could view my investment from this angle. Particularly if your young eyes are not yet engineered to see in that fashion yet.

Anyway what has stayed with me the most since our conversation is the improvement in our interaction this time, and how rare a gift it is to even be able to recognize this. In the past I would have taken him saying that I am not listening and involved in things that are important to him, as a personal arrow imbedded straight through the heart. What this looks like in action is the tried and true mother’s sonnet about how much they sacrifice for their children, and essentially invalidating the young lads every feeling. My more fragile ego has not been immune to creating such havoc in my younger days. Ok let’s be real probably last year even.

My heart whispered to my ego to pull back and wait, that it’s services were not quite needed yet, and to stay to find out the deeper cause. When listening ears wrapped his words tenderly in their arms, what rose to the surface was only pain. All anger had been stripped away, and the tears fell. The arrow was still embedded in the heart, but as I extracted it, feeling every tear… this time I thought, “we can fix this, we are all in this time, and we can fix this.” And then I summoned all the fragmented parts of my self for a great meeting and said, “let’s get started, we have a lot of work to do!”

This morning even amidst my determination to write and be present for date day, I leaned over to pick up my phone and send him a text.

“I wanted to tell you thank you for sharing your feelings with me. I think we both did a good job. Could have gone not so well in the past right ?! I love you! You’re right, I get so focused on one area, all or nothing, that if others are running themselves, I take a deep sigh of relief and keep focusing. I’m sorry. And I am quite sure if it isn’t something you didn’t bring to my attention that would be a huge regret when that time has passed. Someday you will be busy with your own life and I’ll be wishing you would call or I could hear about “school”…

I’m sorry and I love you. I’ll work on it and you may have to help me because of how my brain seems to work.”

This blog post is somewhat unfinished. I got caught up in a writing course I am taking and being fully present for myself in all her forms. I chose me. Sometimes I cannot simultaneously show me and save me…. I chose to save her this time, and to have faith I could show her whenever I am ready, in whatever way feels the best for me. To do the deed in joy versus obligation: this is what I am working on.

Write on writer’s, carry on gentle hearts….

the sun is shining….

Waiting to bless you with it’s sweet kiss.

April 19, 2018June 6, 2018

They need us to rise…

Ask people what they need and how we can love them better!

I am having an inspired morning and want to share a couple of things. A realization I had just this morning is that we need to learn how to love one another beyond loving in just the ways we know how. What I knew about love for a long time left me not behaving very well. I didn’t create space or have room to let love grow. I had deep and crushing insecurities and at the drop of a hat (or more appropriately the pull of a trigger), they would explode like shrapnel tearing apart my relationships and then my life. I would have to rebuild again, and I did this under the weight of crushing shame. I had friends even stop hanging out with me, because I had a new partner, they didn’t like that change. Did they think I did? Did they think that my relationships didn’t work because I didn’t desperately want them to? We need to stop shaming others people. We need to learn how, and when, and why we do this so we can stop.

I had to learn my way out of this space and way of existing, and the cost of that learning has not been cheap. I’ve lived bathed in anxiety. I have a chronic illness now, whether you say it’s genetics or extreme stress most of my life has been exhausting. Lots caused by my thinking as much as my circumstances. This is why we need to be educated on these matters, and the time and encouragement to fully explore our own thoughts and minds without being called selfish, or crazy, or somehow wrong! Without being told how to live and love based on one perspective.

Parents tell their children how to live all the time, and don’t realize they are showing them by modeling, not with their words. We are sometimes accidentally angry with our children for not being who we want them to be, even when they may be being courageous. We can accidentally crush their tiny spirits with all of our fear of failure as parents, and we need to be aware of this.

It isn’t just natural knowing how to live we need to be taught, and these days we are taught by the extreme opposite of thinking about who we are and what we want of life and how we want to be loved, and if we are loving others well. These days our teachers are YouTube videos and scrolling Instagram, and my kids are left alone on those platforms as well, while I’m busy. Now I’ve given out some great recommendations to clients and friends about fantastic YouTube videos, it isn’t all bad. But when kids are just left to learn from whatever they come across with little guidance or presence because it has been replaced, then we are heading to a scary place.

Do you know that our children are scared to death right now? They are in my office all the time. All they hear about is that the sea is rising, and that you can be shot while in class, and that they won’t have any financial future. Where is the hope? We have to teach them how they can rise to any occasion, because it’s what humanity is famous for. Someone will rise and they will lead, and it can’t all be bad. Our children are stressed, and anxious, and depressed, and lonely. They need us to rise. THEY NEED US TO RISE.

This means we are the teachers of compassion, empathy, understanding, and hope. The teachers of how small changes can make a difference, rather than doing nothing because of overwhelm. This has been one of my biggest battles. As an HSP I feel so much I become crushed under the weight, leading to my main focus being how to comfort myself. I’ve had to learn my way out of this cycle. We need to make the change from bogged down hopeLESS to hopeFULL.

Our children watch every action we make and every word we say. So spend some time thinking what they are seeing you do, because ultimately that is the cycle they will repeat until they resolve their personal tasks. We can make that an easier or a more difficult process for them. The number one thing they want is to see you interested in who they are as a person, not who you wish they would be. We must see our children, and our lovers, and our friends and neighbors, and the stranger on the corner through generous eyes.

We must do this whether or not it is deserved in a moment. We must do this because of who we are, and not because of any inauthentic reason. Because a person who is believed in and encouraged is a thousand times more likely to be successful at becoming who they are.

This does not mean we allow ourselves to be treated badly by subjecting ourselves to poor treatment. That isn’t what I’m suggesting. Always exercise and be aware of your personal boundaries, that is loving of self. When you’re confident in your boundaries it becomes easier to love with your whole self and heart, that healing variety of love, because you’ll trust in your ability to know where your energy is productive and where it isn’t.

Our children need us people… WE MUST RISE. We must educate and love harder and with more of a depth to our understanding. So kids have permission to understand themselves and to grow. So kids have permission to expand, and we aren’t unintentionally asking them to shrink to fit our expectations.

Even good intentions must be examined, because many things we do are not conscious.

❤️❤️❤️

April 16, 2018June 6, 2018

The Seven Deadly Sins…. Sloth and Gluttony

*Everything in moderation. Unless you are ADHD, then it is everything all at once immediately as soon as you want it, and deal with the consequences later. With a force and a fury that feels impossible to get a handle on.

It’s blog post Sunday. The girls are blasting Hamilton, playing Jenga (which is really cute), and also playing with Siggy and his new toy. There is a pot of chicken soup with veggies and potatoes simmering on the stove. These are the warm and comforting things of family that I have created and now have the privilege of basking in, for moments at a time at least. Directly before this calm one teen was yelling at me, and then at the other. It felt like a grenade had gone off in the kitchen, but I am noticing that as quickly as the waves of anger and frustration come, they can become diffused and calmed, or turned into a nuclear explosion. I am constantly working on myself to learn which choices create the best outcome, and then having to undo my wiring and humanity to force myself to behave differently than I feel in a moment. It takes a lot of awareness, practice, and patience with self and others.

In my “pages” this morning I named my gremlin. For those just catching onto my blog, “gremlins” are the name I ascribe to the tiny little havoc creating beings of malice that tell me messages of self-doubt and attempt to undermine my attempts at creating and being my truest self. I named the leader or a particularly bad one Besmirch. I was being playful and creative, and it gave me pause and wonder. I had a quick moment of clear vision where I saw me as DOING what I have set out to, versus just talking about it, and always feeling not enough. When we are in the midst of actual changes we can rarely see them as they are happening. It is only in hindsight and reflection. Really these days my whole life has become reading and writing, it is always what I do in free moments. I am BECOMING exactly who I want to be.

We went to Courtney’s cousin’s wedding last night. It was at the Union League in New Haven. The kind of affair where frantic employees dressed to the nine’s, flit about with small silver trays containing a single shrimp in a shotglass of cocktail sauce. I had some realizations about myself one that I liked and one that I didn’t. The one I liked is that I feel like I may have been the only person who when alone with the service staff asked them how their evening was going. They seemed genuinely surprised that I would think to do that, and perked right up. Even a quick kind smile and polite word to them seemed to be received not unlike a man who has been in the desert for 2 days with no water and who just has the first sip. I notice things like this. Perhaps because I feel more comfortable on the worker’s side of things serving the rich. I was always on that side. On the side of the actual guest I felt out of place and at times undeserving. Hmmm.

The thing I didn’t like: I am a CONSUM-ER. Not one who purchases things. Ok, wait I think I should have said it this way. When I am nervous particularly, I think that I hyper focus on food and drink. Let’s be honest I don’t need to be nervous for this to happen either. I watched those hors d’oeuvres like a hawk. Fun fact about me when I was young I read things way above my level, and I would pronounce the word for these delightful little treats whore-DO-VOORS. lol. For the purpose of this tale I wish I could remember the exact moment that it dawned on me how much I had butchered that word, and how many times I’d said it aloud. Anyway an issue for me currently is gluttony. It as if I need to experience ALL of the Seven Deadly Sins just for good measure. That by doing so I will more readily be able to relate with all of humanity, not just the portion of whom I aspire to be like. If we are looking at this from a clinical model (because why not) I have a terrible terrible time with impulse control in many areas of my life. And lately I have absolutely no self-control when it comes to eating and drinking.

If I am not being obsessive about something… well I might not know, because I think I am always obsessive about one thing or another. Now that I’ve found love, and a career that is fulfilling, and my life feels really nice it seems my last self-destructive vice that could very realistically put my life on the line (at some point) is eating and drinking. Eat drink and be merry. Since I have the merry part down so well, most of my mind is occupied with when and what I am going to eat or drink next. I will begin to think about how that particular thing tastes, what it smells like, what it’s served on, and then am relentless in it’s pursuit until I am satiated. Then guess what happens. I don’t just have one, I have two or three. My pants begin to fit less, and I currently have an entire closet of clothes that are for someone who is a size 6, 8, or 10. When I am rapidly approaching a size 16. I am loathe to be honest about this on here, because part of me feels I’m betraying young women everywhere, especially my daughters by obsessing over this. You see though it isn’t attached to my self-worth any longer, so I thought I could just live, but what I am realizing is something else is happening.

I love that I don’t hate myself enough anymore to torture myself into losing weight. But what is happening is that as a Highly Sensitive Person the sensory experience of pants being tight on my waist is driving me nuts. When I feel as if I am going to burst out of my clothing at any second it drives me nearly mad. It isn’t because someone will have an opinion of me that will be less than favorable, it is because physically I feel like I am about to burst out of my skin. There are many more symptoms to this. There is the swelling of the hands and feet with very much salt for me. There is the terrible bloating with my Crohn’s Disease that makes me look immediately 5 months along in a pregnancy. I am dreading the day that someone mistakes and thinks I must be carrying and comments as such. I already have a difficult history with feeling comfortable in my clothing for an entire variety of reasons. Gender neutrality and fluidity were not a think of my generation. I preferred to shop in the boys section and always have, but then I began to realize what people wanted from me to be accepted into the herd. I tried and tried to feel comfortable in those clothes, but if I am in something I don’t feel comfortable in I obsess about it, and can’t think about anything else. I am aware of the fact that I look like a hobbit in women’s traditional thin and demure dress shoes. I desperately want to be one of the beautiful women in heels, but I just can’t hate myself enough for that kind of torture. And mostly again for others it might just be uncomfortable, but manageable, for me I can’t think about anything else.

So the only solution here is to begin to make healthier choices and get more consistent about it. The barriers to this? EVERYTHING IN MY LIFE, or that’s how it feels. Long unpredictable schedules that can change on a dime, life with teenagers, my wife’s schedule to balance, and mostly my own angst and emotional psyche. I think the angle I am going to try and take with it is that when I am comatose with food or beverage my mind is not sharp in the ways that I enjoy most. It is the opposite of creative, it is escapism.

It’s going to be hard to pick this back up since I got distracted with the kiddos hours ago and am now not in the same thought train. So I guess we can just sum this up as I am trying to do some self-work on fitness and wellness in general, which makes me consider my incredible impulsivity and wonder how I can curb it without ADHD meds working for me. I am doing research and using myself as a guinea pig.

Ok this is now Monday so going to post for now. Stay Tuned….

April 10, 2018June 6, 2018

Coffee Shops and “College Bound Son” Musings

*I love that I am in a relationship that I choose to drive 30 minutes in the opposite direction just to be with her for a few hours between clients and then all the way back to Fairfield. It’s already coming up on one year of marriage and I still feel this way.

An impromptu afternoon. The more that I sit and intend/attend to writing, the more comes. Surprise surprise. 😉 I am sitting at Safari Kaffeine across from the most beautiful woman. She is fiddling with her new toy (a Sketchbox), watching a tutorial on how to use special blending pens to draw a sketch of an attractive looking gentleman. She just paused to show me how the KOH-I-NOOR kneaded rubber eraser and the magical lifting effect it has on charcoal. The coffee shop was buzzing with various conversations from local valley inhabitants. Nothing could possibly interest me more. Except for maybe my attention being stolen for the purpose of sorting out car insurance for my firstborn son. That process arduous and frustrating as it may be.

Tyler as a character. Could I write him? Having read Anne Lamott this a.m. and having a nice dose of her as daily vitamin/medicine I am thinking about character development. Speaking of character development let’s talk about arguing for a minute. The purpose of it…. my ex-husband argues for the sake of doing so. Some internal ego battle being played out on the co-parenting field, wreaking havoc amongst the ranks, sigh. I can hear my grandmother delightfully chirping that song “if you can’t say something nice…. say nothing”. Interesting because she had an invisible way of being mean by the way of shame. When the person isn’t even aware of what they are doing or do, what use is it to try and make sense of it or point it out. You can really only try to do better yourself. This is what I have made most of my life into. I have unknowingly embarked upon a mission of being committed to knowing myself above all things. Mostly in my early years this resulted in a way to emotionally terrorize myself, as what I was most aware of were my many shortcomings. Natural behaviors of youth and immaturity became material to analyze for threat and I “worse case scenario’d myself” about myself for a long time. Finding no calm for this anxiety, and a variety of others as I discovered many things about myself including my many blind spots.

As I wonder about Tyler as a character I sift through what I know about young male characters. Let’s see we have Holden Caufield and a young David Foster Wallace…. wondering how he will be alike and different from them. How his unique experiences will shape the landscape of his life. I was thinking this morning about how to encourage him as far as college. Part of me wants to keep him as close as possible and of course reduce costs by encouraging practicality, and the other part is screaming screw practicality get on the other Coast or another country even and see new things, and DO STUFF. In the end these choices will be his, but I know I have a tremendous influence on him as well. You don’t realize when your child is first placed into your arms that someday they will be a real life “almost adult”, and that you will be vulnerable to any suffering they experience without your consent. To love as deeply as I do is a divine suffering. To not love like this; impossible. The choice was never really mine. I didn’t know I loved like this when I first decided to have children. I didn’t know a great many things then. Knowing them now doesn’t make the feelings any different.

It’s time to head back to the office soon. I don’t want this time to end. I am sitting here thinking about how a coffee shop barista is not unlike a mental health counselor in many ways. People are looking to share their experiences and what is going on in their lives with others. A musician that plays with one of my favorites, Lee-Ann Lovelace who sings with her whole soul (they play Monday nights at Crave) came in for coffee, he is talking about how he brought his cat to the vet today. He ordered a large coffee with a little mocha. Never heard it ordered like that before. I like his hat. It reminds me of a hat of my wife’s that she wore on our most recent date to the casino. It’s very St. Patrick’s like… very Irish I suppose I mean.

Ok back to reading Every Love Story is a Ghost Story, basking in the glow of my love, and then my office and clients.

Tag: #parenthood