Tag: #sharingjourneys

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

And longing ….

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The ache …..

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Goodnight 💜

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The Creativity of Clarity and Connection

I’m still squeezing the poison of abuse and neglect out of my veins. I am still confronting the ways I can do and be those things, and eradicating them from my emotional vocabulary.

I am still learning…. I will always love learning. It keeps my sometimes beastly mind busy from turning in on itself.

Lately an old message received plays in my mind. “We are both ruthless creatures.”

I’ve been watching Pieces of Her. We are on the finale tonight. The last episode Nick Harp refers to his daughter as a beautiful creature, and I got chills. Then he does this head cock. Studying.

I study people too. I study because I’m genuinely curious and also because the modeling I had most of my young life was ruthless, clueless, terrifyingly confusing. I study to do better, not to take advantage of. But for the longest time I was confused about that. Because I was painfully aware I wasn’t supposed to feel and think in the ways I did.

So here I sit…. Laying down good behaviors and extinguishing bad ones. I don’t have it all figured out. Not even close, but I do know people are dynamic magnificent human beings. In all their glory whether that be crazy sick sad shit (to quote a favorite movie), or being at their peak, their best selves.

They are not toys, toasters, or something to be manipulated.

I’ve found the secret to not falling in with such a crowd is to not manipulate stories yourself. Not regulate oneself by changing the story and then behaving accordingly. Knowing the connection between thoughts and behavior is very helpful. Thanks college degree and to the “streets”, where I learned the most, often the hard way.

Mostly, these days I’m trying to learn balance. Knowledge is power. However if you use knowledge too much without heart and intuition (soul), you’re being operated by fear, and it’s not very fun. If you are all heart and intuition without knowledge, you fall prey more easily to a life that is not your own.

Balance

Balance for me used to feel impossible. Every answer just created more questions down the knowledge rabbit hole. I learned some boundaries are hard, you don’t make different rules or call it something that permits forward motion without the calm still waters that create a clear view.

Clarity

I learned trusting oneself with a solid foundation of self is priceless.

I’ve learned a lot these past years of my life. It’s a good thing I enjoy learning.

Letting go of the past is hard. The attachments, the mistakes, the pain even that became a constant companion. Life right now if a free fall into the unknown, but with plenty of lifelines that are solid and trustworthy. That’s the point all along right ?! Connection.

Connection

I will always wonder what my life would have been like if I didn’t have to make my own solid ground. I won’t spend much time in it because it’s moot, but more a gentle musing from time to time. Where I intend to land solidly though is all the magic that has been created by the process of making my own self.

Darkness and light intermingling…. My own and the world’s. There will always be both. And people are humans not creatures. Becoming is beautiful.

On the living front recently I booked vacation for the kids and I to Florida. Blue water, warm Sun. I’ve waited my whole life to be in a position to do this. There is some anxiety, but mostly joy. This will be the girls first flight. And only our 3rd ish trip together just us. Where we get to play…. We have all done so much work. I had very little play in the mix. I’m glad I tried to give them people and experiences where they could have that. When I felt I didn’t know how.

Play is supposed to be natural. Someone took those gifts from me, but I have been determined to find them in a healthy way. Not only playing in and with the darkness. I needed some light too.

Thanks for all who have braved the journey of watching me become who I always was. It’s taken the love of so many. The encouragement. The support. The seeing of it all, to help me understand the good in me…..

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The Tank is Full

What makes life worth living for me….

I cry for how long I’ve judged my process and my decisions and choices. I cry for how hard I’ve been on myself when I’ve been surviving my whole life. Just because no one could see it. Judged for the ways I chose to save myself. Because I’m a mother, these choices meant I was selfish. The worst part is I allowed myself to believe those criticisms and as a result pulled away from my children.

I pulled away because I didn’t want to infect them with my particular disease. Survival is a great burden, and it’s hardly understood, except by those who have had to. I didn’t want them to understand, and then to feel close I needed them to. And that too became and unrealistic demand. I judged myself so harshly, and held on tight to that.

Holding on and letting go. Figuring out what to hold on to and what to let go of. The stakes feeling so high. I’ve softened all of that. Mistakes are the portals of discovery. In fact some of my most recent joy had so many in the beginning and that is what has made it feel perfect. The imperfect.

Because it’s real. You know? 😉

This morning on my sacred Sunday I am reflecting and wafting through my life. I’m listening to Exile by Taylor Swift and Bon Iver. I am just overwhelmed by the abundance I’ve created in my life by the self-work I’ve done. I’ve done the impossible, changed my wiring in so many ways. People don’t do this, but I am. And I’m fucking proud.

I’m so emotional lately…. That is when I can stop holding my breath. I still do that. I hold on and wait for the bottom to drop out, but I know when I’m doing that, and when I’m not, and it makes such a difference and when I’m feeling safe, when I can reflect, the tears immediately come. The gratitude. The joy.

I made it out alive and I kept my self on ice, ready for exploration once safe. Now I’m here, and so often I’m overwhelmed that it feels like I won’t get the experience in some way. Even when I’m right here in it.

This is a journey not a destination. This journey is so beautiful it brings me to my knees with emotion. The good, the bad, and everything in between.

I ran so fast and so hard. I ran on empty so long, that it’s hard to know how to operate on a full tank, and not just keep watching the gauge. No matter how many times I check, it’s full, won’t stop me from trying. Some things are hard wired.

I’m operating this new soft self. My mind tries to drag me to every worst case scenario and exhaust me into that familiar irritability, but I’ve hedged my bets with all the support I’ve allowed myself permission to seek, and to accept it.

My authentic self is finally taking the lead…. Slow and steady wins the race. I am steady. I am a rock. I am reliable and trustworthy. I am consistent and nurturing and so loving. I can see myself and it’s overwhelming.

I spent most of my life overwhelmed by fear, and now I get the privilege of being overwhelmed by love.

I just took a deep breath. Whenever I’m overwhelmed now, that’s what I do. The restless settles into security and then the fruits of my labors shine and sparkle all around. I blink my eyes and try to bring them in and out of focus. Yes Christina this is real.

It isn’t any longer all or nothing. My life is piloted by self trust, not story telling. And I will not shame myself for what developed out of survival, for I have always lived the philosophy of Maya Angelou. Once you know better do better. And I always have.

And now after 41 years on this planet I’m in my body. Through hell and back so many times. Fighting myself, fighting every battle that crossed my path, permanently in fight and flight mode. The story protected the mechanism and as long as that was the case the pattern repeated.

Now I am broken free. Out of jail and purgatory. It’s like having to learn everything from the beginning again, so vulnerable and raw.

I’m so exhausted, prone, in a good way. Laying spent across the earth finally without all the thoughts of illness and death.

Everything is a first right now in so many ways. Out of the dark night. Reborn. Now when I don’t want something to be over rather than dissociation, I open wider and connect more. It’s never over, the moments, they become absorbed into my being.

Becoming solid, whole, and present.

I am present, alive, for the first time in this way. Overwhelmed by possibility….. life is beautiful. I know I always believed in that, but I never felt it, not like this.

Recovery is a long road, and it can be beautiful. It doesn’t have to be dark. Turn on the light. Allow the universe to have your back and shine its gifts on your pain. Everything is connected….

Stay tuned

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The Simple Things and On Writing

Hi. I can’t remember the last time I said hi and meant it in the way I’m thinking of now. Actually I can.

I just read a passage in Stephen King’s On Writing that has inspired this post. Page 56. When you write a story, you are telling yourself the story, he said. When you rewrite, your main job is taking out all the things that are not the story.“ Gould said some thing else that was interesting on the day I turned in my first two pieces: “right with the door closed, rewrite with the door open. Your stuff starts out being just for you, in other words, but then it goes out.”

I made a promise to myself that I will finish this book from cover to cover before the end of the year. It feels like a good goal. A few years back I read the first half, and it felt so sacred and emotional, that I could not bring myself to allow it to be over. Or at least that’s the story I tell. Also I couldn’t focus on one thing at a time or move slowly.

I am relieved these days that I can be still. I had a spiritual experience this morning. The weather is beautiful and I just sat in my living room looking around and the abundance I have created. I had everything I ever set out to do right under my nose the whole time. People tried to tell me this so bad often, but I wasn’t ready to let go of my pain. Or to let it let go of me.

When I slow down and comb through my life I have so many things I didn’t even pay attention to. I was amassing and moving more quickly than I could appreciate. Now I am slowing down and looking through the piles and boxes and dark corners and making new discoveries all the time.

Like this mornings which was a video by Esther Perel on listening. Esther Perel on Listening there were several gems in this. My favorite aspect of it is her owning mistakes as a counselor. I believe in this, but hadn’t yet found the courage to do so. She helps me. We learn more from our mistakes and it also helped me with some work I’ve done recently.

This afternoon between driving one of my twins to her job (we are down a vehicle currently) a pending ski trip motivated some closet cleaning. Amidst some of that were maternity clothes new and still in the bags, as well as many sentimental artifacts from 2019 until now.

The last time I did the first round of this cleaning I thought the emotions would kill me. It’s refreshing to see that this time I’m able to do it, feelings still in tow, but with a lot more acceptance.

The gift I have received from all of this darkness is presence. In the Esther video I referenced above she talks about languishing and about how the opposite is eroticism. Of course that caught my interest. The things that make us feel the most alive. The most present for the sensations. I recalled a time on the beach when I had met a lover I was quarreling with. We could not communicate or come to any understanding. So I requested we sit at the beach together, but not be allowed to say a word.

Now I can appreciate this creativity and effort so much different than I did then. I still remember that day fondly. Today as I was thinking of it I was thinking about eyes closed and just feeling what sand flowing through your fingers feels like. Whether it’s cool or hot, lumpy or smooth, moist or dry. The full sensory experience and how if you tune out the world and tune into the sensations, we are capable of the miraculous, without any cost, …. So simple.

I think of how my traumatized mind made simple things more complicated as my mind jumped to every possible scenario the very epitome of anxiety.

I think of how any trip I embarked upon was riddled with intrusive thoughts of bad things happening, and how I never understood why my mind did that, and worse, I felt defective, crazy, or bad. I shrank inside myself to try and make sure that didn’t infect anyone else.

I tried to protect others from even the possibility of becoming something “bad”, and I have a lot of appreciation for the things I did to adapt, and those that I faced.

I’m making a tender and soft self to operate from these days. Presence and intentionality. If I take a day or two to think about things I’ll usually see how I feel and what I need to do with so much more clarity than I ever was afforded before.

My ego runs the show so much less. It’s not nearly as fragile. I say I’m sorry and thank you for reminding me, and don’t have expectations for my children I couldn’t even keep up with when no one is looking. They truly are my greatest teachers. The work I’m most interested now is working on my listening and doing research around this.

After almost a year of horrible family therapy, now that I see what a good relationship really looks like, with a committed therapist, it’s a true game changer. I was so vulnerable I didn’t even know it shouldn’t have been like that. And I’m a therapist!!! We can’t see ourselves no matter how smart and aware, and vulnerability and grief changes the whole game. I wish I knew this sooner, but I’m glad I do now.

I appreciate Esther and Stephen’s company and guidance today. Fast friends. For now I’m going to listen to some old school Eminem and finish cleaning out my closet.

Merry Holidays Everyone. Life can be anything you want it to, if you’re committed and consistent.

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Healing Can Bring About Some of the Most Brilliant Light

This feels like a nice moment to blog. I finished Saturday sessions. Hadn’t eaten so I made some chicken, rice, and broccoli. Had to throw in a veggie for good measure. Chicken and rice is universally my favorite dish I think or with mashed potatoes etc. the most likely to be digested properly meal for me. Simple and I love it.

It’s a dreary day. I see these as more external encouragement for relaxation. Last night I hung out with a couple of good friends and watched 10 Things I Hate about you. Collectively we are all going through heartbreak and helping one another. I never expected to find that, but here it is: everyone doing a part in easing the others burden, caring for one another. I never imagined to find all these sources scattered about it in moderation versus all or nothing.

Basically that’s what all of my work right now is about. Battling addiction I suppose. Also coming to terms with how we tell stories to ourselves to be able to deal with things, and I think that’s why I developed the habit of trying to throw as many true words out of me as possible so I would be forced to stay in the truth even when scared, because I prefer to live that way, even when it’s hard.

I suppose I learned that from the writing of Paulo Coehlo first, or at least to notice and value it. I remember reading his works and listening to them while stocking produce at Trader Joe’s.

What I’m overwhelmed about the most these days is something I referred to as “the crushing weight of possibility”, in my energy healing yesterday. Shifting from a scarcity program to an abundance mindset, as it turns out, is not for the faint of heart.

My energy healer Julie worked on my kidney Meridian, which unsurprisingly corresponds to fear, anxiety, feeling inadequate, etc. she said it was very blocked the first pass over, the second moved nicely. She asked me about my experience with the healing, and my first feedback was that I can receive so much more readily. And sure enough there are people seeing me, thinking of me, sending me things, helping my own work of seeing myself as worthy and deserving.

I feel comforted, held, seen, and am now willing to accept that expecting that entirely from one primary partner was not only unrealistic, but not good for either person involved. I’m learning.

This does not mean I’m not lonely or have hard days. I do often. It does however mean that doesn’t send me in a panic upon which I feel I’ll never recover, and dear God I deserve that break from my own pained mind.

I have long stood in my own way and made life way harder than it ever had to be. Takes one to know one, because that’s what I knew, what I felt I deserved, and was mirroring the relationship I had with myself.

I have clients who have put in five plus years of work and I’m watching them transform before my very eyes. For complex ptsd there’s no such thing as solution focused therapy in my opinion. That would grossly underestimate the level of suffering they have endured. That doesn’t mean good therapy can’t work quickly, but it takes a lot of repetition to lay down habits, and to pull the old ones up. Challenging long held beliefs is tricky business, especially when life is already so demanding on its own.

I’m getting sleepy. I anticipate more writing in the coming days as theories and thoughts keep circling back around to see if I’m ready to contract a creative process with them.

In my energy healing what she heard was The mind is not God. Separating myself from my thinking realizing they are different. Not needing to rely on my mind or fear my scattered mind. And that because I’ve been working at such a deep level such a long time that’s how rich essentially my life will be. It has enriched my work, my relationships with others, and my day to day life, and for that I am tremendously grateful.

Some things I’m grateful for: helping new friends make their new lonely spaces feel homey and less alone, bonding with people who I share trauma with, good food, people thinking of things I would like or that make me happy or comfortable, my Christmas Tree, cozy things, having enough money to buy the people I love gifts, having enough money to do improvements on my home. My continuing efforts at reducing overwhelm and fear based thinking. And for most of all, beginning to believe once again in my power to create the life I want, that that isn’t over, and perhaps was even just beginning.

Hopefully yours,

C

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The invisibility of domestic violence ….

I was getting kind of used to being someone you loved

It’s Tree Day and Koenig Family Therapy is getting a facelift, a new front door. I’m sad to let the original one go, but it just didn’t fit right, cold air was coming in, and it wasn’t working. It’s bittersweet, what a metaphor.

I finished the limited Netflix series Maid last night. It was a show I wasn’t going to watch because I’m careful with my psyche and triggers, but as it turned out it’s something I needed to see. It’s so ironic that my initial training was in domestic violence. My first internship was at a shelter, and at that time I was so naive.

I was more caught up in work dramas and my own head to fully capture in my mind the importance of the work we were doing and the great minds I was around. That internship yielded a mistake that would teach me one of my greatest lessons. I was so green at that time. I made a lot of excuses for myself. I remember a supervisor there, not mine, helped point that out to me and coached me through a situation. She told me just to say I made a mistake and not all the reasons I felt I made it.

I took that lesson and kept it and cultivated it. It was a seed that’s still growing and still needs to be nurtured. It helped me learn at that time the significance of being with our mistakes. And if that isn’t what I’m having to do right now.

I’ve told so many stories about what was going on. They matched my ability to tolerate discomfort about myself. It doesn’t leave you much to trust when you know you can lie to yourself to feel better, but that won’t get you very far. Most of this isn’t conscious unless you do the work for it to be.

Sometimes I’m ashamed of the work, it feels heavy and too serious and the bullies of the world would tell me just don’t think so much. I’ve been told that my whole life, but what wasn’t happening was people having the understanding of why I was so serious. They just didn’t get it, so I for sure couldn’t and didn’t. More low self esteem just got internalized. The walls of the shame house got reinforced until I was inside a cel.

My trauma has been a solitary confinement I was longing to be out of, but I’d reinforced my survival mechanisms so much that it felt (it feels) impossible sometimes. Until my therapist reminds me I’m already out of the cel I just don’t have any program for this new life.

Stockholm syndrome is real and so is domestic violence. The worst part about it is that often no one can see the mental prison: I’ve been in a mental prison, for so long, that freedom feels like a heavier burden than captivity. I longed for my captor and my mistake. I longed for rage and contempt and mercurial torture, and then I shamed myself for that too.

In an episode of Maid yesterday which I sat and watched by myself…. you watch her lose herself inside the abuse, and it cried hard. It punched me in the face. It punched me in the gut, it beat me raw with the truth.

When she goes to the shelter again and she just rests for days, and can’t tolerate anything. When she doesn’t remember her favorite color, it slapped me across the face hard. It hurt so much I couldn’t breathe. How she walked away from the healthy person who loved her well and ended up back with her abuser because he’s the one who understood her mother and what she came from. It’s excruciating.

She went back for herself….. I went back for myself. When I stood there that day refusing to give up my ground it was about ME. I didn’t have any relationship with me. I didn’t even have a favorite color. I didn’t know what I liked, It was anything goes.

Everything I set out in the world to do was to not ever choose an abusive relationship. I’d abuse myself first and that’s what I did. I held myself to the fire to become someone worthy, all of these years. I squeezed every drop of me that ever emerged to make sure and stay on task. To make something of myself.

I held myself together for my kids, and every person who has ever judged me for my behavior has never seen what I was trying to do. Holding a River of shame that roared beneath the surface constantly at bay. I’ve been fighting for my life. I was holding back all of these memories that felt like they would kill me. I just tried to get away from them.

I used my whole will to try and make the nightmares stop, to walk away from fucked up love, to leave my mother. And even when I watch something like Maid I feel guilty and bad for leaving abuse. I feel guilty and bad for getting out alive. No matter how sick I got in the situation.

I’ve been fighting for my life. I was fighting for my life when you met me, and in that way I did put my kids first, even though I’ve been consistently called selfish. You have no idea what burdens I’ve been carrying inside. I separated myself from them so I could function all these years, but what I didn’t realize is I couldn’t have a self either.

I’ve been going back into the burning building and collecting her one piece at a time. I’m not a hero, I’ve made so many mistakes, but I am a warrior. And I’ll never give up the fight.

This is an excerpt from my morning pages. It’s been a tear filled morning. “Set the bed on fire…. Teddy. I had a rough wake up. Talked to Jen and didn’t even know how bad I was feeling. What about for the people who have choices as far as domestic violence. I chose to stay. The less visible something is the harder it is to get out. I felt empowered by choosing despite being the target of a rage that dialed right into the stream of shame that always ran just beneath the surface. Think the pink goo from the original Ghostbusters. I kept trying to dam it up, rather than drain it. Hustle for my worthy…. Thinking of Beene. That’s the only love I’ve known, the hustle. A narcissist demands loyalty without actually providing anything except rage and contempt. I cry for the little girl in me that thought that was love. I’m living with the consequences and the growth. I was always going to have to go back for me. I put it off until my kids were 20 and almost 18…. I patched holes in a sinking ship furiously. And now I’m a variety of tired I can’t even describe and a loneliness that’s like I’ve been hollowed out. I creak and rock. My bones call to you from their separate skin. I make myself translucent to let you in…. In the absence of fear, a Jewel lyric, I’ve loved a long time. This doesn’t make me any kind of hero, a warrior maybe, but I sure don’t look like one to all of the people I’ve tried to do love with, and since I could only view myself externally I just internalized more shame.

It has been vicious this pain and abuse. I’ve been fighting for my life. In my own head where I was banished to live…..

Knowledge is power, once someone gets their story clear, healing can happen. This is a cause I can get behind with my whole being. It’s what I do, and as I live out my own story with courage I become more and more capable to do this.

Clarity and Connection has resonated a lot with me this year. Yung Pueblo. It will hopefully be named poetry book of the year.

The fog lifts and I emerge and that’s almost the heaviest burden of all. When the wires are so crossed that possibility feels like a heavier burden than limitations.

Scarcity is a cruel master…. I have to actually learn how to accept abundance. ….

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“What Does it Feel Like to Be Loved Like That?”

I can’t sleep. My schedule has flipped. Night owl and sleeping in later. I guess that’s the difference between sadness and happiness. I don’t know what this is.

Watching Maid furiously….. having a fire in the fireplace. Smelling like fire. Those are my comforts right now. This show is my life in so many ways….. Andie McDowell as her mother is downright chilling. So close to my own, the eccentricities…. Except mine wasn’t often fun crazy. She was just crazy crazy.

But what really gets me is how she feels not good enough for something good…. At least up to the point I’ve watched. That’s what really gets me.

I’m in love with this show. That’s not something that happens very often. In fact the last time was Six Feet Under and Dexter.

I’m in pain. It feels like it will never be different. What is changing each day is me. I’m changing rapidly. My heart and my mind. The core stays the same. My thinking, my speed of living / thinking. It’s all different.

I’m getting moments these days with my kids, that I wouldn’t have had otherwise. Glimmers. Brilliant, dazzling, moments, where I can literally watch the meaning of my existence and able to see what I’m doing in a new way.

My therapist helps me see the ways I am parenting now that I wasn’t before and how hard I’ve worked for that. That is what keeps me going. I’m literally programmed for scarcity. I said that to her this morning. She said to me last week all the details of my success etc and it’s like I’m hearing about someone else’s life. I don’t feel successful. I feel scared most of the time, that something bad will happen at any moment.

At least I no longer fear that bad thing is me. There’s that.

In the absence of everything I’ve always centered my life around, love, I am learning To appreciate every tiny thing. Every time I pet the dog, a sip of coffee, someone being nice. These days when someone touches me, even just a pat on the back or just a small thing I nearly burst into tears.

I’m scarcely breathing most days, but somehow life is becoming more beautiful. It’s a new kind of love, mostly gratitude based. I watch this show where this woman is struggling, and I’ve known struggle, and I have all of these choices. And I almost don’t want them, it’s so foreign.

Like I don’t know what to do with this.

In this show I believe I’m on episode 9, and her mother has an episode and it chills me to the bone. The way she reacts almost catatonic. I remember feeling like that. And I was a little girl, and then I wasn’t, and the things happening were more disturbing and I just expected myself to get on with my life ? What was I thinking ? What were they thinking ?

The crackle and smell of the fire. I just hold on tight, curl up for my mostly lucid dreaming these days, stories all night, mostly benign, but sometimes intense. The sun will wake me up, and my coffee will bring me somewhat back to life.

Everything is different now.

I’m listening to Conversations in the Dark. 🙁 I’ve heard it thousands of times. It’s absolutely bizarre to not be able to change these things. To be in surrender and somehow ok with that, while not even the least bit ok at all.

I love my newest tattoo, my prince. He’s my favorite piece so far. My saniderm came half way off again. So I smell A and D ointment and the fresh afterglow of Dial Soap. I smell wood and ash and myself, my perfume…..

I ordered an Ironman Avengers Lego set on a flash deal for cyber Monday and I’m excited for that to come and to put it together. I just feel the need to do simple things. To play. Things I was never able to do.

What if I get lost in this dark wood ?

We will get our tree this weekend. Nothing fancy, just from a lot. At least I’ll enjoy and be coherent for putting it up. Last year I was completely numb and could barely function.

I’m functional currently, however the anesthetic has worn off and there’s no pain medication. I’m just learning to live this way.

I’ve decided to become adopted at the ripe old age of 41. I’ve wanted rings, and names and other peoples family and a place to belong and none are ever mine and I never felt worthy. I don’t feel that way anymore. The unconditional love I experienced the most was from The Jenkins. My first loves parents.

So as things roll out for me in the near future I have asked permission to have their name. Lots to do to make that happen, and perhaps a Christmas visit is in order, though I don’t know if I can get myself to move right now. I’m very hibernating, sticking to routines that are comforting and not expecting anything of myself right now.

Christina Jenkins. I think we should normalize adoption at any age. 💜 That’s a silver lining right now.

It’s injection day. I’ve been sleeping on the couch. My bedroom is a tomb right now. I can’t get the energy to get up there and the silence in there is deafening.

Eventually I’ll get up and breathe some life into it…. Make some changes etc. I’m just not there yet. Hibernation Nation. My feelings often lie and tell me it will never feel better. I know that isn’t true. I just need to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

And to keep finding the beauty in the simple things……

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I am Tired and I am Yours

Party of One

“Sing your sad soul to sleep…..”

I’m still trying to figure this out. I’m trying not to feel ashamed that I’m still trying to figure this out. I had a dream and now I need a new one, and I don’t want a new one I wanted that one.

I’ve been determined for years to get to have the experience of having a baby in my authentic sexuality. And most people can’t understand when I’m on the brink of “freedom” why I’d want anything else to take care of. I don’t think I see it like that at all, and maybe that’s the concerning part.

So I’m processing about what is this baby thing about, when I could do this or that thing. It boils down to I want intimacy and I want to experience that intimacy with a woman I’m on the same plane with. Is that so much to ask.

I’m in so much pain. Last night was one of the lowest I’ve had in a long time. I had a long day, therapy, and then tattoo therapy. I was exhausted and hurty and I just wanted to talk about my day with the same person, one person that I feel I want to tell everything too. Is that so much to ask? Ugh I sound so whiny. No we aren’t doing that.

I’m a whole adult now (as they say) and I will not compromise on what I want and deserve or just automatically reach out to any source that isn’t present in a healthy way for me.

I love who I am and where I am, and I love what I do, how I spend my time most of the time, but I greatly dislike my life right now. I am really fighting against labeling this co dependence, I’m so tired of labels.

I am a love person: why can’t that just be who I am. Because Christina if that were true you wouldn’t attract abuse or chaotic energies into your life and that end up badly. I can still be about love though. So is this about patience. Nail on the head as usual :p. And or about faith. It feels like it doesn’t exist, if I don’t rush and make it happen. The food and the love never came. Except I have all of that in excess, but I do not have a partner.

It’s been almost two years now I’ve cruised through the agony more than once of wishing I was doing Gottman cards and relationship exercises with another person, and all of it. Watching clients discuss their partnerships, even the hard parts with envy. That ship has sailed and I’m still treading water.

I’m so fucking stubborn about certain things. I watched King Richard last night. Such a good movie. Most people don’t like the movies I do. They think they are boring or sad or weird. I’m not in it for the entertainment value. I’m there to experience a real human experienced as recaptured in artistic fashion.

Richard was stubborn and it was insinuated not the best man in certain aspects. Perhaps it’s from a lens of scarcity of not having a father I would have killed to have one dote that attention and affection on me. He wanted something better for his daughters and for his family. And he did it in a way that didn’t compromise their beliefs as a family.

I would have just swallowed the first contract whole without a second thought, just to have the experience. Strong is so attractive to me. And then I thought of who I think of when I think of strong and I realized my wires are crossed there. I had to undo the affection and warmth and reality check myself real quick. I do that a lot these days, and return my focus on me, on my strong.

It’s me who is strong like that, but it never appears that way to anybody else. If a tree falls in the forest does it make a sound? Unseen, unheard, lonely, and sad.

I fucking hate the holidays. I do. I love them when there is healthy love present in my life or at least the illusion of it, but right now I hate them.

Nothing is making me feel better. Granted this is just an emotional wave and it will pass. It’s the lowest of the low.

Last night the crackling fire comforted me: it reminded me of a good aspect of my roots, being from Oregon.

I miss something I haven’t even had yet, a phantom.

Yesterday in therapy I wanted to be excited about my progress, but instead my therapist holds my feet to the fire, and doesn’t let me float off into fantasy. All she did was ask me what I want now that my dream has changed and the tears were hot and immediate and body racking sobbing. I’m so fucking tired of crying. I’m so tired.

My found father will be here soon with a hug and I’ll hold on tight for each moment like that where I can breathe right now. Thursday night dinner… I have an energy healing soon. Moments with a new soul connection in the form of a neighbor.

It all still feels like crumbs and I feel so ungrateful saying that. It’s the pain talking so please don’t shame me, because I’m trying to learn how not to shame myself. For not even knowing what I want anymore.

Taking down a dream is hard, doing it over and over is unbearable, feeling that’s you’re fault and you’re irresponsible and a whole bunch of other things is self-harm.

I curl up in a ball on my couch and beg for a few minutes of distraction that feels like a healthy choice for me and wait for the morning sun to warm this barely beating heart.

For me it was always about love. There are so many kinds of love. I’m experiencing so many including the new baby shoots of loving myself. But right now there’s such an extreme lack of talk, touch, and all those little routines between two people.

I miss intimacy of all varieties. It’s hard to jot slip into being hard on myself here. All of the ways I am responsible I don’t have that in my life. It is always a double edge sword.

I am tired. Three words could have been this entire post….

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Writing is my Discovery, Deep inside are the Richest Wells of Recovery

Isaw a friend’s post this morning about asking for donations for groups that have supported her due to the loss of her spouse. I have known this woman socially on the surface since we were both young, right before each becoming mothers. We shared in common being military wives and living in military housing near each other.

She and her husband shared four children prior to his passing from a military on the job related accident. The organizations she is asking to be recognized as they have received such amazing support as having her mortgage paid off. And many other things and the name for children who have lost a parent to death in the military is a gold star child.

Now I honor her experience. I’ve thought about them and what they must be going through so deeply. What I want to share is how much it makes me recognize the stigmatization of so many other varieties or grief. If you’re valid and someone can validate the loss socially you get support. If the pain is invisible or deemed inappropriate you get judged and can lack support.

It does depend on your choices. Earlier I wrote cast aside and then I didn’t like the victim voice of that. So I am working the re-frame. I use the Karpman Drama Triangle a lot with this. I just feel hurt that my trauma has been invisible for so much of my life and that it’s often felt I’m solely responsible to fix this and fast, but I suppose the reason it’s such a rush is that I rushed, and I rushed because of trauma mechanisms. It truly is a vicious cycle, and then you’re supposed to make tenderness out of this wild beast.

Realistic expectations are something I’m often talking about lately. So hard when you became trapped in a magical thinking phase and used story to soothe and regulate. Those patterns are laid down deeply. I will forever be a firm believer if you want something bad enough and are committed enough and follow through you can achieve it, but you must be flexible to the parts you cannot control, and adjust accordingly.

Acceptance is a dish served cold at the beginning, and one that warms as you go along.

I’m not sure what to do with this conflict about what is worth of support and by whom just yet. I don’t want to be bitter or judge someone else. I just want the same support someone else gets. It’s hard to be with my feelings on this. The things I’ve tried to do to survive have cast me as less valid and certainly less emotionally stable as others. If I don’t acknowledge the latter of those as true I can’t grow. So it’s a must.

Compassion is such a necessary ingredient of recovery and yet how does someone who has scratched and clawed their way through existence with very little support to cultivate that.?

I’ve been thinking a lot about this today. Perhaps it will become a part of my personal mission / branding that I’m working on. I’m not as far away from it as I thought. It’s still The Emotional Alchemist, even in a therapeutic capacity it fits. Now to take the time and consistent effort to continue to foster this development in myself and stay grounded rather than flying into flight mode in a coping mechanism induced flurry.

To be aware of these things now is such a gift. Better than any I’ll find under the tree. Though Santa Christina was pretty good to me this year. I have a lot of room freed up these days and I intend to keep it that way until a worthy investor arises, and by worthy I mean someone as dedicated to “the right things for the right reasons, and primarily consistent awareness coupled with follow through.” The pace is less important than the impact. What a hard earned lesson.

Currently I’m inspired by my son who had made some choices in the stock market that didn’t have the result he wanted. He was fearful awhile I think about embarking again, his loss equalling his tail between his legs. However it’s not that you make mistakes it’s what you do with them. Having the courage to try again. Here he is building back up from the ground. He doesn’t know how much he inspires me.

Speaking of building back from the ground we are trying a new family therapist. The sessions are grueling (well I’ve only had one with all of us but still). Sitting with and seeing the anger or hurt, lack of trust, and being with those feelings, and not doing anything about it except consistent follow through on self work. I think the most grueling part for me is needing to be still and just hold space, what even is that?! Ugh

Watching people in my office make earnest attempts at working on themselves while not being irresponsible with another’s feelings is also inspiring.

You can find inspiration in anything, and it’s most effective when calibrated and applied consistently to your own life.

I am creating. I am creating with the way I’m living right now, with my choices, and I am so very alone. It’s so quiet. I’ve slept on the couch the past few nights, after watching Maid, and again I continue to go back and understand old stuff through this lens. It’s another wave: my bedroom is so lonely sometimes it’s a tomb that houses so many of my dead dreams.

Then there are waves of time when I’m so in alignment with myself that it’s a home of comfort. It’s still so empty and I realize now I don’t want to rush that process. I can wait until I’m ready to fill it with myself and my love. I’m not there yet.

I have a dream still… and it doesn’t have to die, but it may on its own. This is making me think of the movie Serendipity, a movie that years ago helped me leave a relationship that wasn’t for me. I still love the movie. It’s not so much in my present as my past. I believe in it, but not to the exclusion of it being with someone who would be healthy and fair. And right now that someone needs to be me consistently.

My whole life I’ve gotten overwhelmed by trying to fix everything that happened at once. I tried to rush into making a family, and boy do I have lots of hard lessons. Sometimes as a parent I scarcely know what to do.

I find in times when I don’t know what to do, finding what I do know to lean on is helpful. I do know that I’ll never give up striving to do better. In my life currently that includes deep listening and total and utter presence where I am at in the moment, and that all else will sort itself out.

This is my recovery…. This is hard, and it’s gorgeous 💜

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Food is love, and real love sets us free…..

Food is love. Wednesday night and last night my neighbor and her son fed me such nice dinners and we watched movies together. I felt loved and part of a family. I realized that I can have that without being in a relationship with someone. Go figure.

I had a dream last night I was pregnant and it was lucid I felt all the nuances of pregnancy. This isn’t the first dream like this. In this one my water broke and the cramping begun. I swore I’d wake up and have wet the bed it felt so real, thankfully I did not. I never got to hold or see the baby. When life brings you to your knees …..

I’ve always gone hard at everything I do. There was never an in between. But what I wasn’t able to do was see the good in me, this. Last night I saw it in the portrayal of a character in a movie. We watched Freedom Writers. My neighbor’s son’s recommendation. How have I not seen this movie. It’s akin to Dangerous Minds. I have long lurked and noticed it but never committed.

I teared up often during the movie and the fact I was cuddled by dogs and fed such a nice meal. I saw the scarcity, and I saw the abundance of that moment. As I watched them have a banter you only do from a lifetime of affection. Their affection for one another, each knowing the others quirks and flaws and being able to acknowledge and make light of them.

There was no threat. They relayed a story of being at the other son’s for the holiday and a tense moment at the table and immediately I thought that could have been my table. I have been so tense with fear and anxiety and loss and all the things I never had. So full of fear.

This belonging even for an evening made me feel so warm and loved. An older version of me would have been too preoccupied with only achieving one main goal I desire and then emptied and having to start again. The way I am able to appreciate now is priceless.

Her son made a comment about he was glad he could show me something new. And it struck me as interesting how he sees me from saying that. I suppose as someone who is worldly and has lots of knowledge. I only ever peek out from the frightened child’s gaze. Split. I became split from my authentic self when I needed to perform and protect any tender being inside. I kept her on ice, and now as I forgive myself my transgressions and sit with my dark side, I am thawing. This thawing is the product of years of grief and acknowledgment. If you had any idea.

Last night I was thinking of who I am, at my core, the things I’ve always been. I remember reading the star fish story as a child, and how I wanted to read it to everyone and be brave enough to suggest we use it in a work meeting later in life. I was always bullied, called corny, torn down one way or another and I just instantly internalized more shame. I would always rather take it on than anyone else be hurting.

I had a therapist last October or so tell me I am a warrior. I am no man left behind at any cost. That is me. And with the right tools and a person equally as committed to seeing the unseen and understanding it will be a lasting partnership.

I often minimize my accomplishments and self so much that when I’m backed into a corner I try to spew my worth and I’m acutely aware of how I look in that moment without anyones understanding of my scarcity. I needed my own understanding, not just a harsh iron will and drive, moving at warp speed. To be fair I do have a mission, but I never had me on board so I had to keep going back and getting her.

The star fish story is about a man walking on a beach when the tide is going out, he comes across another man picking up all the stranded star fish and tossing them back into the water. The man says what are you doing, this is happening all over on beaches everywhere, you cannot possibly make a difference.

The man picks up a star fish tosses it back into the water, and says to him “made a difference to that one.”

I think of how never enough I’ve been to myself. How I rarely actually acknowledge what I do and that I’m impacting generations through deep individual healing. A ripple in the water. And that I’m dedicated and what I have sacrificed to stay committed to my own work. All while being my harshest critic and immediately taking those hurt by me opinion straight to my heart and halting my own joy and progress in life.

I thought I needed to do more. What I’ve really needed to do is see what I’m doing and who I am now. I thought of the domestic violence survivors I see in my office that begin with shattered minds and selves, so anxious their eyes dart all over during session and they stare off into the distance because they are too ashamed to be seen. I’ve thought of their transformation as they realize what’s happened to them, and that it isn’t their fault, and that there are explanations and tools to heal and help them in their grief.

I’ve watched people afraid of their own shadow, riddled by anxiety, transform right before my very eyes. I’ve watched them stop relying on their own abusive tactics with themselves and their children and start to claim their own right to exist. I’ve watched the rewire and the rise. I’ve watched the sparkle return to their gaze and them hold themselves confidently. I’ve watched them get careers they feel fulfilled in and treat their bodies and minds with a respect they had never known.

I have warriors in my office and it’s the greatest honor. I don’t need to write a book or post videos or be discovered or seen for what I can do. I know the difference it has made in a life. To be seen and understand for what has happened to them and how it impacts their life now.

I was thinking of my authentic self. My capacity to learn and apply what I have and what a gift that is, to be able to lift myself out of my story and my suffering. To have that ability, not everyone can. I was remembering one of the only handful of memories of my mom speaking about who I am. She always said even as a toddler once I was told no, I never did the thing again.

I sit here and think how interesting that is for the person I am today how stubborn and persistent and I realize that was born out of trauma, not being heard or seen. Before that I was extremely responsive and had such a desire to please my loved ones. And as an adult when I returned to that it ended up being used against me in so many ways.

So then I had to return to the adolescent who shouted to be seen and got into fights…. I became at war with myself. When I watched Freedom fighters I realize that war wasn’t started by me and I cry for that little girl. The battles were unyielding and all the time I spent trying to make sense of what happened to me, without any support, in fact the opposite.

The world telling me I was too serious, just relax. Are you kidding me? That was not the answer.

Later after the movie we all talked about passion, and her son said something about it being my real life story, and I didn’t even share anything really. How did he see me? You mean people can see me? I’m always shocked to this day when someone thinks anything good about me. That’s how painful and deeply ingrained abuse is. It doesn’t matter how many people tell you you’re marvelous, if you’re split from yourself it’s the loneliest existence imaginable.

You run around begging and scrambling for a crumb. These days I’m fed whole meals. I got brought flowers on thanksgiving when I spent the day alone, from my found father. These days I cry over a shared meal and an ounce of warmth, being invited in from the cold.

I could never get warm before, nothing worked, and then I got accused of never enough. It wasn’t enough of the right stuff. I didn’t have enough information about my trauma and my needs and wants. I lived to please and love, just to catch a glow, but I couldn’t rest for even two seconds, or it would go away.

Losing it all and myself along with it, has allowed me to rebuild to my specifications, and while it’s a challenge to even identify what those are, my recovery is delicious even when it’s hard.

I can’t wait to watch this movie with my kids and anyone who will watch it with me. Through their stories being seen they transformed. For me that is something to believe in, and now rather than automatically believe in anyone else above me, I am learning to believe in myself.

I was never asking for too much, ever. For food, and love, and belonging. I wasn’t exploitive, I was adaptive. I shamed myself for the things I did to protect my children until I could figure out how to not repeat.

Always