I’m very emotional this morning, this week really. Something is happening. The winds of change are blowing and truly this time I don’t know what.
I am genuinely a blank canvas right now. Actually that isn’t true at all. I’m more like a beautiful landscape with a cottage by a lake. The door to the cottage is open, and I’m in a chair by the lake…. Reading, writing, and smiling. Calm.
It’s my sacred Sunday and I’m thinking of her. There are several hers for me to think of, loving is easy for me. I enjoy it. And you can find so many things to love about and connect with others. I love each for their own reason and in their own way. For what I’ve learned on my journey with them. This Sunday morning I’m thinking of being by the water, and the last time we had coffee together on. Sunday morning, in that foreign living room. We talked, that was always my favorite part believe it or not.
How does that quote go ? Love is a life long conversation. The empty chair on my beautiful front porch staring me down, Or me staring it down. I’m filled with love in so many ways all the way around. Love of my chosen family, my children, for my work, for writing and reading, for nature.
The other side of my king size bed is cluttered with clean folded laundry, books, journals, a people magazine with Pink on the cover, and probably dust. The other side of my bed depresses me, whether I am happy or not.
So many brief stops and starts. Always stopped before it started. Heartbreak of a 9.5 magnitude on the Richter scale.
Recently my therapist brought up the concept of lost souls, and my response was so naive. As if that is not possible. If you just love hard enough, they can transform. No man left behind. The real result is actually the pain of this naïveté and the journey has been transforming me.
These days I can only fix and rescue myself and life gets better because of it. It gets good when you do. I remember my mom had this shirt when I was growing up. It was hideous, sleeveless and blue, and in typically rocker chick 80’s the bottom was frayed, long dangling strings of fabric. She was a fan of this style. I never was. She also had a mullety haircut at this time. The shirt was blue with white writing. I’ll find a photo and post it.
The shirt said, “good girls go to heaven, (but or and I can’t remember), bad girls go everywhere.” If there ever was a shirt to sum up my mother. My grandmother hated it, that says it all about their relationship. In this moment I wish I had known the little girl her, except in a way that’s all I ever knew of her. She never grew past/up. Interesting how we stumble into things. I had no idea I’d write this when I began.
I hear a plane flying overhead and think of the girl who would always ask me, “where do you think it’s going”, that wound is fresh. Full of unknowns. Not even closed over. No bright pink tender scars yet. Plenty of those in other spots though. The path of the warrior. Warrior of light as Paulo says. The pilgrimage just popped into my mind. One of his best as far as it resonating with me. I took the journey years ago. Half the book was underlined. Look how far you’ve come Christina. That’s what people keep saying to me.
Sometimes I can’t see myself in relation to time: the chronology of me is a fascinating thing.
I am the walking wounded right now. If you could walk inside me you would find a museum of love. So many artifacts of war, dusted, rusted out. Water logged, bullet holes. Trauma. But oh the stories you would find. The courage that resides in these memories.
I am not without. I am within.
I was teetering between worlds. Almost a lost soul. Nearly dead. That assessment is only because of how invisible to myself I had become in wanting to love everyone else back to life, because loving myself seemed and insurmountable task. It still does, however I’ve been working towards this awhile now.
I hear the world waking up from my beautiful upstairs room. I opened the blinds, the French doors so I can experience the outside while I am in. I imagine people preparing breakfasts, or to go to brunch, their Sunday best. Sacred sacred Sundays. A full day of unlimited hours spread before me to do as I wish with. Mmmmm
I can feel the promise of fall in the air this morning. My favorite months are on the tip of my tongue. I can taste them.
There is magic in the air. The magic is me. The way I choose to see the world and live regardless of the pain. The choice of being fully alive and feeling no matter what. Now a stream of songs are coming at me. It will be time to take a walk with my headphones and see what the universe has to say to me through music today.
I am begging for a reprieve of these restless nights. For fall to run its fingers through my hair and cradle me. I’ve been burning the candle at both ends lately and doing this not as a result of a person is new.
It’s been such a very long day…. Literally non stop even though I sat a lot of it, which is regrettable. I can only focus on so many things at once.
It feels like every home project that gets accomplished, five more happen before it’s even complete. Today a new whole house fan went in, and also new storm doors. Complications! First of all the door was brown and it was supposed to be white, something the installers didn’t know. So this will be a whole pain. Also the front door needs a larger storm door so good thing since it’s the wrong color they have to come fix it. In theory. Which requires calls and a whole pain again. I hate such things.
Although I will say it feels good to be making a home and taking some pride in joy in these things. They still aren’t my priority but I can enjoy making a home beautiful and be really into it, because I want to, not because I have to. Also the whole house fan needs a certain kind of switch, and there are outlets that aren’t working downstairs and are not an easy fix. So to complete that project it still requires and electrician to come out.
Once these smaller projects are done, the back stairs and then the deck and Juliette porch, and the pool will be up and running again next year.
I already need a plumber again, another leak, grrr! It never ends literally. However I’m just thankful I can do all of this without stressing financially. It’s more the time that’s frustrating.
So today to distract myself from discomfort I decided it would be fun to delete over 60,000 emails from 4 different accounts. Eight hours later. I kept saying I’d stop here or there, and obsessively I had to keep going. When I am determined I am determined and I won’t stop until I see it through.
That feeling of no notifications, which ironically I don’t even really care about. Life is too short. But we will call it a step in organizing my life in general to make sure I stay on top of things.
I don’t look forward to anything in my inbox anyway sadly. Not like me at all, but this is where I am.
Life is short. My tattoo artist got a stent put in on Friday, we were supposed to finish my books (highlighting, and some white) that day and do some more sleeve planning. We will do it Tuesday now, after clients, an eye appointment for twin A, and my therapy. Long day.
Most of my days are long, fulfilling, satisfying, and desperately lonely. I am making friends with lonely. Just being in and with her.
Today I cooked a delicious hello fresh holy moly it was good and everyone was fed and happy. Jen hung out and we watched movies all day while I deleted my emails and the house was being worked on. We watched Stepmom and something else and some Schitts Creek.
I already need a haircut again. Is my whole life just going to be a series of hair removal and preening. It’s stupid. Oh that’s what else we watched It’s Complicated, a favorite. I never realized how entirely a dick her ex is in that movie. I mean really selfish. It’s funny though. In particular was what made me remember when I was talking about hair removal. He says “I see that you have stopped getting bikini waxes, you’ve gone native, I was into it.” Lol!
All my bad habits are quit. I’m a few weeks out and the stability of that is taking hold. Now to get addicted to movement and strength building because I want and need energy. Discipline and routines and focus and writing.
In this moment I’m thinking about cuddling and how much I miss it. Affection and warmth and passion. The loneliness aches and burns.
This will now be the first post of August. Only five minutes in. I can’t wait for fall. I’m looking forward to snow and hoodies actually and the before and the running and hiking. Reading while snow is falling outside, and the silence that is felt when the world is covered in a white blanket.
And one of my favorite things when ice forms all over the trees and the sun hits them, and it looks like something out of a fairy tale. God I love that.
Anyway this helped me get sleepy…. I’m so so happy with all of my heart it’s Sunday tomorrow. I want to read and take a bath for sure. I haven’t been doing my bath much. Partially because that bathroom keeps trying to kill me, but mostly because I’m so busy from morning til night.
I’m just sitting here thinking how working on this house is making me feel affectionate towards it in a new way: we are creating a bond. This is becoming home. My home. I’m no longer a guest. There are still a lot of tweaks and I’m still not ready to do anything to the bedroom except take out the flooring. But for now I’m doing too many other things. I’ll be a monk like minimalist when it comes to that. My bed is all I need.
I’m finally working on playing my first actual song on the piano, though it’s been very slow going because I’ve been laying it all out with my clients. Seeing lots of people and showing up fully, there isn’t a lot left at the end of the day.
I need to move tomorrow running early before it gets hot!
I have so much to talk about right now it’s hard to know where this will go. I was going to say to know where to start, but that’s actually not hard anymore, I just do. Progress over perfection.
So let’s start with this morning. I went to a funeral. An all day long funeral. This is something I typically dread. The first reason I dread it is because I’m a special breed. I’m not only highly sensitive as a trait, but I have come to fully embrace that I’m an empath. Anita Morjani describes it best in her new book Sensitive is the New Strong.
The type of alien I am actually has a description. High sensitivity is sensory and perception, and empath actually feels other people’s feelings with them, sometimes before they do, and we have a sixth sense. Deep intuition. Sometimes I talk directly to people’s higher selves. When I describe this it’s hard not to feel grandiose or self important, however it is the truth.
So needless to say being crammed into a hot room with many people feeling big feelings, especially some I care about tremendously, is not easy for me. Since I don’t have much family I’ve been fortunate (or unfortunate) enough to not have many to attend.
Complicated grief. Is there a simple grief? I think so. Complicated grief is not even knowing if, when, or how to grieve because there is no familial or other structure.
As I sat and listened to people describe their loved one, particularly as a mom here were some of my thoughts…. Besides being present of course because I was, but it also creates my own thinking. What will people say about me. Will anyone besides primarily my clients (if that’s even a thing) be there to say anything. Now I used to think these things much more bleak and not have answers: today was actually not so bad. Immediately as I hear the good things said I think my kids wouldn’t be able to say that about me, and I want to fall in despair.
Then I bring myself back to how I arrived as a guest at this celebration of a life and the integral part I have, and I try to look at some different things, primarily myself differently. But what sticks is how alien I feel and truly I know hardly anyone that has my situation.
Even children who are given up for adoption have some kind of structure. I slipped between the cracks, and the only way I was even visible is when I was quiet, accommodating, and useful to others. I was loving and engaged and would go to the ends of the earth, and it’s easy to see why I don’t expect reciprocity in this area now, because there wasn’t any. That expectation was never set. (It shall be from now on)
So then the preacher man laments about how 40 some years ago he had also married that couple, and my despair grows deeper. Here are the good and better people, the ones who got it right and come from good families and Christina you don’t belong here. That’s what it feels like. No need to feel sorry for me, no one wants that, it’s just the truth.
I literally burst apart with their pain of separation by death that is spoken of on that day of vows and how much sooner it came than deserved. I was present for them as well, but I am human, so these events bring forth my story as well.
The persons children spoke, and I wondered what mine would say. We all know mom struggled a lot. Is that what it will be? Is that all I am? Struggle? Why do I have such a distorted view of myself. I know why.
This funeral made me think of weddings, my last one in particular. In my living room w my kids and wife only, a fact hidden from her family. We hid in shame. I hid in shame. I’ve been fucking ashamed my whole life.
Today I recognize why there’s never an event where someone has something to say where they know me well, I want to say I never stay long enough, but my god that’s being hard on myself.
I try with my whole heart to do so many things at once so my kids didn’t miss out on anything, and so I had ground under my feet to love from. I tried hard and I tried fast the best and only ways I knew from my life and I got shamed and faulted for it. Where was someone to ask what happened to me?
Where was that person who saw something seemed not quite right and it wasn’t a fault or flaw in me, it was something fundamental I never even had and I’m still trying to live like and with those who did! Where was the one to say I see you, and the wisdom to help me feel secure.
So I became that.
I think of how I didn’t know I deserved to wait for someone to see me and take that time with me and that it does exist. I think of how you promised me a family and how opposite that was and how now when you post videos of blending families and relationship articles it’s so bizarre to me because those people are transparent, genuine, congruent, honest, considerate, brave, etc that’s how that works and why that works. I think of how you try and make it seem like it’s me, and how that doesn’t work anymore.
I wasn’t the one you needed to talk to about cohabitation and outside the box situations so I could accommodate. That was what you were supposed to be doing in the therapy you said was for co parenting. That was your job to do with your ex partner and family to lay that groundwork and communicate with me, and everything would have been on the table, nothing to hide. You post these things that you aren’t living congruent with. I am not the issue, and you know it. Blame isn’t my thing. Growth and forward movement is and we both know I’m perfectly capable.
And how if you had done that work, any of it, you wouldn’t need to try and manipulate me from a blog, it wouldn’t even be a thing. We would already be living it. I think of the emotional black mail, and how that has nothing to do with me. I’m light years beyond that and open and free to have a loving and fully invested relationship when I find someone willing to show up their whole authentic selves and be all in with me.
I think of how I know it exists now even when I’m in dark and lonely moments, which are often as of late.
So this evening I came home and wanted to write, but first I listened to an episode of a podcast and it also made me feel so many things. The link is below. Hearing Glennon and Craig talk to one another makes me wish that I had the wisdom as well as the support to have had this grace with my ex husband and not taking everything so reactively. I mean he had his part, but my biggest threats were tapes I played on repeat, of my own creation.
Sidebar what I found most wonderful of the many things in here was the idea of everyone having a voice whether things were agreed upon or not. Our family therapist brings this to my attention a lot during sessions, very strategically I might add. And I recognize that by fighting against what their dad thinks of me, I shut those voices down, because of my own ego and my triggers and I regret that deeply. I’m working on healing that now. So they feel heard and deeply respected by me, and we can have the relationships we all deserve.
Attending family events has always been bittersweet for me. It’s so validating to hear many clients with difficult trauma histories like mine, share how difficult events like this are. How many feelings it brings up. Today was no exception. But what was remarkably different is that I didn’t want to crawl out of my skin and leave as soon as possible.
I didn’t feel so awkward I could barely breathe, and I didn’t feel I didn’t belong: I knew I did.
I thought about my last marriage a lot this morning and at the event. The last funeral I went to after all was her fathers. A father who refused to acknowledge who I was to her or hardly at all. I never became part of that family in any real way. The closest I ever felt were with an aunt and uncle, and her cousins.
Don’t get me wrong no one did anything wrong. They did the best they could in general, all of them. But I never knew where I stood, and I’m still trying to sort out what might have made that gap bridged differently. But they weren’t my family to know that about. We showed up around one another, but never knew one another that well.
I think what were we thinking getting married so fast. Why? Why didn’t the one w a family think maybe we should get to know my family first. I mean if didn’t decide and create it all myself right ?!
I think of the line in The Little Prince it’s the time that you spent on/with your rose that is special. And that any amount of investment is never wasted, however I am exhausted of starting over. I don’t want to. I never did. But I was always going to need to be in the equation and what I’ve gotten good at over the years is being invisible and accommodating and ok with that.
I’m not ok with that. I’m as worth getting to know, for a willing partner and family to be enthusiastic about, at a realistic pace when the time comes.
But here is what I’ll never be again, anyone’s dirty secret, anyone’s lie, anyone’s anything that needs to be hidden, and I don’t need to make myself into something for that to happen. It was never supposed to be that way.
I am on a journey of not hiding how I feel, think, my wants, needs, emotions, in an attempt to not lose something or to get something. I will not be modifying, disappearing, shrinking to fit, pleasing, hiding, or any other thing.
This is me…. I exist and I’m not going to try and earn my existence or explain it away by my efforts. That is exhausting.
I don’t know if I’ll ever have a wedding again traditional or otherwise. I don’t know whom will be in attendance or what will be said at my funeral,
But I do know from this time forward I will know I am worthy of belonging somewhere and to someone, or perhaps everywhere and to everyone….
And that makes all the difference as to what you accept and what you don’t…..
Onward as Beautiful Liz says….
Onward
Ps my kids have been gone and will be back tomorrow, it’s so strange being in such a silent house. They have my car so I’ve been rocking the silver civic, Louis ha. I haven’t been sleeping much this week, totally unlike me. Oh also I realized during the funeral I have never really mourned the loss of the babies we lost. I did just like I’ve always done and tried to just keep going. I thought about how we honor our losses, and that for her and I we didn’t even honor our union by having family and friends present. I never felt worthy, and that’s a lot to sit with.
Bucket list: read all Stephen Kings books in order before he kicks the bucket
I can’t tell you how many times I begin my memoir. A solid beginning paragraph that engages the reader and makes them want more. People always give me feedback they would want to read more. Even if it’s just my circle. And there is not just about my circle, the weary, brave, and beautiful are my people.
So I am going to share what came so easily this morning in my pages. Something I’ve done a thousand times and then never followed through with because I give my time and energy so freely. I am not resentful of this, it’s what separates a man from being a martyr. In fact it’s not only a calling, but also one of the most fulfilling ways to live a life.
I sit here a “normal” woman, with regular responsibilities. This morning I’m awaiting the delivery of a new dishwasher. I must confess I read the fine print last night and it said if you click the haul away option you must have the old appliance out on the curb ready. Yeah I know nothing about that, and considering an average pink Himalayan salt lamp from home goods burst into flames and tried to kill me the other day, I think I’ll pass.
I’ll play dumb, when it comes to being an electrician I don’t have to play. And hopefully they will take pity on a poor single mother and remove the thing for me. Sidebar: I think I’ve been watching too much Schitt’s Creek and channeling my inner Moira. The only kind of pity I’ll take, sympathy for heavy lifting and home improvements I know nothing about, but am slowly learning after being thrown in the deep end alone. Because I will tell you, that I refuse to drown.
Anyway my story begins…
“I imagined it the same way I had a million times before. Getting the call that my mother is dead. These days I don’t even know who it would be from. These days my response I most often hear gurgling up from my depths is …. It’s over. It’s over.
The turmoil I’ve lived with, worrying it was me who is bad or wrong for walking away from loving her, fixing her, comforting her. Soul death by slow poisoning is how I would characterize this disturbance. Yet I am so removed from the memories that would help me piece together the daily battles of my reality.
Which are knowing what I want, need, and who I am. How I feel when I feel. What decisions to make without vacillating in terror. Freezing, fawning, fighting, falling….
When my therapist asks me any of these questions I just go blank. I dissociate when asked anything directly about or for me…
And that’s as far as I got in my pages, but as I write it here I was immediately ready to go further. So that’s a great sign. Another great sign is the consistent purging of what’s unhealthy for and of me this past couple of years. I have been shedding layers of habits, belief systems, memories. With this shedding has been tremendous loss, things I never meant to shed, never intended to, but they went nevertheless.
Some of this shedding has created extreme self doubt conflicts that take all my energy and leave me broken and bleeding for days. I recover. We do recover.
One percent better every day. I had been determined to be perfect all the time. The only way I ever saw to even obtain an ounce of love. Those wires were crossed. And like the new dishwasher that will be installed today (hopefully), my functioning is new. New as we know it is very scary.
I won’t know what buttons do what. And you can bet your ass I’m a trial and error gal, not an instruction manual reader despite my belief in knowledge is power. The best teacher is a lived experience. Try and fail, try and fail. From the delightful Pema, Fail, Fail Again, Fail Better.
I tried to be Pema, Elizabeth, Brene, and on and on…. Friends who seemed to have the magical formula based on their lovely pictures of family and events.
I tried to be everyone but myself and now she’s so buried it’s sometimes hard to breathe.
I’m coming up for air…. Ash, dirt, water… use whatever metaphor for you like because I’m about to breathe from now on, and for forever.
Ok the dishwasher is 10 minutes out. It’s showtime. Damsel in distress here I come… I’m not above it 😉 I’m not above anyone or anything….
The FIRST TIME. This isn’t an issue of compromise or lacking it, when will that be acknowledged. That’s where you would need to begin …. That if you did different this would be different, you’re in the outcome of your choices.
Also the image upload is having an issue and I haven’t the patience to fix it today. Sundays are for relaxing, and rain and grief apparently, at least this one is…..
It’s a rainy Sunday. I am in grief today. Not getting what I want is often a blessing in disguise I realize. It forces me to slow down and know me. I’ll know me good soon.
I can’t practice the piano, every week I want to. I go to my lessons without fail, but for me touching that piano is something I’m passionate about. And lately every time I try to get passionate it gets cut off at the knees. So today I’m passionately angry and passionately exhausted and passionately lonely.
I can’t touch this piano. Once again I was trying to move grief faster than it’s ready to move….. I cannot afford to be immobilized, my life is passing me by too quickly. To be so aware all the time feels like a curse. Peaceful, joyful, and aware, is needed.
I’m angry, furious, wanting to crawl out of my skin. I am going to thoughts of indignation at people not showing up, and then I bring myself back to the wounds I have caused and try to right the sinking ship of reality. I do this so I can grow properly.
I didn’t follow the rules. But whose rules am I following? I am following my path, but along that path I made contracts I couldn’t keep. I didn’t keep. See what I did there. There are no victims. I will never believe myself to be one. I did them for practical reasons in entirely impractical ways. That about sums it up, that line brings me back to a light humorous self, it brings me home.
I keep coming home to what I deserve and who I am, and when it shows up whole I am ready. Nothing else will suffice and I do not need a story to make myself feel better. I am not a coward. I do not need a rigid set of rules to make my feel safe in my life.
My contract and my vows never included being willing to abandon myself to accommodate fear. It never would have and it’s never will.
The clue app popped up serendipitously to make sure I knew I wasn’t entirely losing my mind, or that if I am I’m in my own right to blame these feminine cursed hormones I’ve been blessed with.
I no longer bleed but you can bet your ass I make up for it in tears and the pms symptoms that cause emotional tidal waves are alive and well. Fun.
I want to sit and read but my concentration is shot, only something physical will suffice. I may run until all my anger, longing, unmet need has been thoroughly pounded into the pavement. I want to be like Forest Gump and just keep going.
I am suppressed inside all of the supposed to’s and the shoulds and the things that are not understood and I’m going to explode. Don’t go wasting your emotions, lay all your love on me. Who? Who do I lay my love on? I don’t have that answer, but I do know who not to…. Anyone not fucking showing up for themselves.
What is the common denominator of these lucky ones that have a partner. These ingredients are not magic. They are respect, devotion, choosing, seeing, and above all neither party can abandon themself to be with the other. They must have a developed self, not state they have one, actually have one.
Which means Christina the only thing you can do right now is keep working on yours and breathe. There’s my higher self. I don’t want her wisdom right now. I want to be held. I want raw hot sex. And more importantly than either of those things I want to talk about life, love, and all these feelings to the same person every day of my life consistently.
It does not need to be perfect. In fact imperfect is perfect, but it has to be consistent and devoted and secure for all of the days. I could tell a story that I bailed on that, and believe me I have, but I know me well enough to know that I won’t bail on someone authentically themselves who does their own work and can stand healthily on their own two feet.
I know this with all of my heart. I’ll never buy another bullshit story. Ever!
I keep attracting every manner of emotionally unavailable person, which can only happen if someone themselves is emotionally unavailable. Breaking into emotional availability is not for the faint of heart, and especially if you allow yourself to be wronged by those that came before. The shame inhibits you to see things clearly, yourself clearly.
I’ll take accountability because I desire learning, but I will not take your criticism or judgment of me, when you were there too, and had choices too, that created outcomes.
I will always stay with the correct ingredients and I don’t need to blame anyone. Blame is boring and weak and leads to emptiness.
I keep creating stories to think I have those correct ingredients. I keep going back and forth between pick your favorite train wreck and roll with it, which I want to believe in, make something work.
But only Christina, only with someone as two feet in as you are with their own self awareness, investment in their own happiness. Only then! That’s it. Don’t try and make something else work, or invest, you’ll suffer every fucking time.
Put some skin in the game or get off of my field. I won’t be accepting anything less than 150 percent these days of your own personal determination towards self mastery, peace, and joy. Unhappy people need not apply.
If you’re unhappy I’ll sit with you and have a conversation and wish you the very best, but don’t distract me from my mission w doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.
I want someone to make magic with and that’s not asking too magic. Magic is coffee in bed and talking about life. Practical magic.
Not too much, and I’ve had enough.
I want China pavilion in solidarity of a fellow griever whose pain knows no bounds today. He is about to learn another before and after lesson, and I’m sure he’s angry too. 💜 a last breath was taken during the night. Heaven gained an angel somewhere between yesterday and today, and her loving army will be in hell for as long as it takes to adjust to her absence. Broken hearts abound.
Can soul pain be fixed with food? Not too much of it, but food that’s cooked with love perhaps…..
I’m not stubborn, well I am, but this is not the issue here. You’re not there and you know it. No more gaslighting….. if you can’t talk about the issues specifically with vulnerability why even do it. ?
I’m in a mood this morning. First, I wrote a blog post last night and for the love of God it won’t post. Is something in retrograde? I’ve tried everything and when this has happened before I’ve copied and pasted into a new one, but now with this faqing block editor that would take forever. Have I mentioned that technology and I are not friends?
Can’t anything be easy? No guess not.
I don’t know how the unfairness manages to continue without even contact. Oh yes I do. The Hoover is strong with this one. Something that appears to be so invested, going to therapy consistently, writing, reading. All while not having an iota of consideration for me at any bend in the road, and still clearly not acknowledging the half of that. Fuck that. Talk about something real not bullshit generalizations or mental masturbations to ease yourself. Still an island.
I am reading Dusk Night Dawn by Anne Lamott and this woman is so unapologetically herself I want to stand up and clap at so many of the lines. The self awareness and awareness of her marriage and just all of it. Where do I find these people?!
Where do I find the people who also aren’t addicted to the fucking television, and anything and everything else that has nothing to do with knowing themselves and me. Where ? Do any old souls that could sit and talk for hours about anything and everything actually exist anywhere and why don’t I attract that into my life.
I called off a wedding in 2012 ish because of many things on my end as well, but primarily a lack of engagement from my partner. She had a relationship with her dvr, and ours was secondary. Now she appears to have gone on and have many of the things I wanted. She has a beautiful baby girl, and her family is still loving and supportive and they do fun things together. I miss that family, the embraced the kids and I. It was something that will never be replaced in terms of experiencing security and family, but the partnership by itself did not meet my needs and I am not asking for too much.
For the love of God I’m not asking for too much. The ultimate gaslight. To have consistent safe reliable passionate engagement with another human being that prioritizes our relationship and believes in soul and purpose.
I’ve had enough !
Im cranky this morning, and sad. I’m just happy it’s Sunday because I’m tired for now, and I can read. Oh and appreciate gifts my little fairy elf friend left on my porch. Oh and the lights hanging there.
I get discouraged so easily,, but do I? Do I really ? Or is this more gaslighting. I have hung in through things many could not even imagine enduring during my life. I have endured things people never should for long stretches of time. I am disciplined in not meeting my own needs and not having a voice, and these are taking a lot to undo.
Hopefully before this posts I’ll get last nights blog to post! Grrrr ! Yesterday I had a date with my daughter and it was delightful and one of the best times I’ve had in so long. I speak about it in the post that won’t post.
Where are the other passionate people? The ones willing to be scared but do it anyway….
And the one that will see me and stay and work on themselves.
Solo at bars equals less lonely these days…… when you just need to be around people….
I’m anxious this evening and I don’t know why. It’s been a long time since I’ve been anxious. Haven’t been taking anything for it or had any migraines. Most bad habits have stopped. Still definitely indulging in some “binge of the bad food” days, but not out of balance.
I’m listening to this RIOPY piano that I found an add for while reading a Gottman article. I’m reading and eating everything in sight and suddenly will listen to Fall on Me.
I had a date with Twin A today and it was delightful. We got lobster rolls and went to Rj Julia, and got a bunch of things that stuck out to us in these cute little shops. She got the cutest sun hat I’ve ever seen in my life, and a matching necklace and earrings that are simple and delicately beautiful. It was so nice to see her enjoy herself. We missed twin B who was working, and my little big guy who is working on his life.
And then there is the books…. Always….
I love the honesty with which Anne Lamott writes. I love her! Purely and truly. Bird by Bird is phenomenal, but today it’s her newest Dusk Night Dawn, and currently she’s describing what it’s like to get married in your late sixties, when you’re in “the third third of your life.
The day was mostly good. Despite not taking any new clients one slipped through the cracks and I had an intake (first session). These days I only get clients who literally appear as if they are sent specifically from the Universe. Literally nothing else. It’s a beautiful place to be in. I’m the abusive relationship slayer these days, a protector of young and adult children who have no language for what they are going through.
They come in for one thing and end up finding another, as often happens in therapy. My wisdom on interpersonal dynamics is unparalleled in a variety of areas, it’s just true, and my intuition gets sharper by the second. Someone commented the other day that I should have Brene Browns money or something along those lines and said when I get big to take them with me/ don’t leave. I’m told this regularly.
How? I just don’t see it. I know it but don’t know it. But regardless my response was I don’t think I want to be big. What if I couldn’t do this? And their response was along the lines of me needing a wider audience because the world needs it.
But I don’t know how to bring it forth without it being activated by 1-1. I don’t know, and anyway again I’m not sure what direction I want to go with my life right now. But I am sure I want to serve and that I have a certain sight.
What if I’m exhausted and just want to play with words all day and write fun and light fiction. I’m almost laughing as these words fall onto the page, at how I’d be laughed at by anyone who knows me well, if I was sharing this info right at this moment.
Anyway twin A wanted to go to her boyfriends, and passed on dinner. She’s crazy. So I sat at Founders house alone. I aimed for a seat w a view of the goings on on the green, outdoors. But all they had was at the bar. And low and behold while I had planned to write on the inside covers of my haul from Rj Julia, especially on twin A’s book, I am seated near a woman who keeps holding back tears. She had a bright teal top on.
She wasn’t very successful because they would slowly come down when she was quiet. Then she would wipe them away and go on talking cheerily. At one point my heart literally squeezed because I have been there so many times! I knew there was no getting out of her force field once I was settled despite my intentions and bounds these days. And sure enough….
So I sit here marinating in new disappointments and old, my heart aching, and then trying to comfort by reminiscing about my day.
I just heard a bang and am perhaps more jumpy than usual as there was just a shooting a street over today 🙁 Chip dropped off fresh bagels this morning and shared there was a civil unrest he could tell, and then reports of more info have slowly arrived throughout the day. We drove past it on the way home while they were filming live so who knows maybe you’ll see us in a news clip.
I have a new skin care routine to try tonight. I’ve never believed in such things. Usually they squeeze money out of you counting on preying upon your insecurities. For the most part I believe the body is an amazing design that takes care of all those things naturally. I don’t begrudge anyone something that makes them feel better, but personally I cannot get behind plumping, injection, cutting, carving etc.
But I tried some products the other day and I woke up with my skin feeling like I had just been born. So I digress. I’m still not sure I believe in it, but anything that makes me feel some comfort these days. Why not?!
The manager of the restaurant (I believe that’s who she is) is married to a woman who was at the bar with a friend of hers. They were chatting me up and commenting on my tattoo. I got w bunch of compliments today. They asked if I was an author because they saw me writing in covers of multiple books, ha. I said I hope someday and they said I looked like one. Loved that. also they told of how they met 15 years ago and they are so cute, so that made me happy for them, but sad for me.
Kids are doing well. I’m seeing more and more what I’ve done right, and not just all the threats and hard stuff.
So many things in my life are complete, but I am desperately lonely. A soul aching lonely. I am lonely for front porch sits consistently with my person, and consistency in general. I want what Joan Didion and her husband had, the type of relationship that makes you write gorgeous things, because you can’t not ….
There are so many moments I’m not missing anything and present and happy and self-loving, and forgiving, and moving in my life, but tonight I have hit a sad anxious period.
At least tomorrow is a sacred Sunday… my children will be around me… and I can wake up feeling the after affects of my soft skin, and smelling comforting smells, and appreciating every little thing.
Often my enthusiasm was all I had to hold onto, now I sit in all the ways it’s gotten me in trouble….. readjusting always….
I am raw this morning…. I usually am after family therapy. Thank goodness I’m able to catch nuance and notice the most important part is that we are allowed to talk about our pain. This therapy truly has me practicing what I preach.
However if I insert any of my experience into the sessions then it is immediately justifying. That’s difficult to sit with. So I’m going over what’s the difference between justifying and also wanting room for your experience to be considered and seen. I think the difference is follow through with changed behavior. The words in the moment don’t do anything but invalidate the persons experience and I am truly sitting with having to hear hard things and sit in my mistakes as a parent and not squirm out of it, but also ask that I am also seen.
Not an excuse or a justification, but I need to matter in the equation and with parent child relationships “it’s not about you” applies. It never was about me. I began at such a deficit in attention, safety, love…. That I am tired in a way that has me operate in ways to outsource things.
I outsourced love I couldn’t find within myself amidst the survival, and I have to find out how not to shame myself for that as I am watching how it has hurt my kids. It’s also been widely judged by a variety of people. I could not be in three places at once. I made choices. Choices for a career and self development and trying for love as well, so I could not only love them, but also show them how to live.
I have to look at it like now I am strong enough to weather the storm of showing up in a new ways regardless of the built up pain that often comes at me. It’s almost unbearable, but when I realize I’m being allowed the opportunity to build trust one interaction at a time and I am following through, albeit still with mistakes, I gather the strength to go on.
I want desperately to be understood and to have a safe space to relax and rest in, and I’ve had to create that in myself so my children can have it at some point, if I haven’t made them into overly independent (a trauma response of course) by now. A certain amount of self sufficiency is good, abandonment is not.
I felt abandoned my whole life, and as a result my children felt that abandonment through me. It is heart breaking. My only solace is that grace and compassion and understanding will help us all heal. It’s finding that balance of having it for myself while fighting the intense need to protect myself at all costs.
Courage under fire
That line is what I most resonate with right now. And don’t give up on me. Me to me, and me to them. Please don’t give up on me. I never wanted to be selfish in the ways that I was, and a first hand experience has changed my heart.
In short I have hurt enough from hurting others that it drives me to change. What always got lost in all of this however was my SELF. There was none. Only responses and triggers and survival templates.
Now I am growing a self….
Growing a self from scratch, while providing a modicum of something I never had.
It says in the trauma book by Oprah and Dr Bruce Perry, you can’t give what you don’t have, and so I found a way. I always believed where there is a will there is a way. And if there wasn’t a will, if I didn’t cultivate that belief system, I would not be here today to be writing.
For much of my life my will to survive is all I had.
I am struggling and have always with the shoulds imposed on parents while they have very little support and understanding. It’s the trickiest balance you can imagine to validate someone’s experience, and also challenge them in ways that are loving and supportive so change can occur.
This is my work: what I can and will strive for in my counseling office, and I will do so with all my heart. It’s easier in there, many boundaries keep me safe and able to work. Then when it comes to applying to the messiness of real family, without that structure, without a beginning model or template. It’s unimaginable.
But I will keep working at it. Walking the line. I walk the line every day. Of validating my own experience and theirs and also not accepting any story u might tell to feel better emotionally, but then as a result not follow through with changed behavior.
I’m exhausted of having to modify my behavior on top of all the roles I hold, but thankfully I also appreciate the journey and am energized by life itself as well. Light and dark intermingling and never giving up on a story that’s being written and the one that needs to be told.
So this morning I’m watching my teenage son pick himself up from some of his personal struggles and a new grief and I am in awe. I made that, but nothing could prepare me for the privilege it is to watch him grow. And if the events of this past couple of years didn’t happen, I might have missed it. That would have been tragic.
He’s so beautiful. Learning to be himself, and so are you Christina. My friends would say that, because they often see me better than I see myself.
I am coming back to life. I am breathing life into this home that felt like a tomb housing all my dead dreams. But nothing died, life just adjusted me back on my path.
A dear one sent me a Jay Shetty podcast where he was interviewing Martha Beck and this quote is what began it, “The variety of an ordinary life is infinite and precious.” Yes yes yes! She talks about what integrity means in the sense that she knows it. Which is when we are aligned with our true nature and purpose and whole versus when we are divided by being what society wants us to be. And the sheer difficulty of this because biologically we are wired for belonging.
For me, never having felt a secure beginning of belonging the only thing my frightened mind could do was focus on that pursuit and then society came along and caused people to judge me, knowing nothing of my origins or my pain.
Recently even a family therapist has contributed to some of this shaming, without realizing it. It has shown me how easy it is to shame/judge another, when what they need to grow is understanding, acceptance, and support.
It is so easy to say what a mom should or shouldn’t be while never even knowing her story. You cannot give what you do not have. And I’ve spent my life making sure I got it so my kids could have me available to them. Ironically that path and financial scarcity created the opposite. I’ve been in a hurry to become someone they needed. I did it without being given it naturally. I’ve been doing the impossible for a very long time. Defying gravity.
This has been challenging my approach as a counselor as well and there’s a shift happening in me. Moving towards the natural ability to nurture and support. One I always felt I was and would forever be without.
It is grief itself that has softened and humbled me into a calmer more loving person. I think of that anxious terrified girl who looked so strong and intimidating clothed in her defense mechanisms. A scared child, and easily irritated adult. I just want to hug her, she is me.
Witnessing how much suffering a human heart and body can endure is truly humbling. And our culture says just keep going. And yes we need to keep going, but at what cost if we leave ourselves behind by not acknowledging our own lived experiences fully.
Acknowledging, knowing, is the sweet spot between blame, shame, and or blindness and numbing. Acknowledging allows us to see what we are working with at full value and adjust accordingly. But for intolerable circumstances we make up stories about what’s happening subconsciously in an effort to feel better, but what that does is make us even more locked inside ourselves.
As I get to know myself I realize how invisible I’ve been to me. I’m often surprised when people say something that reflects they see me, and I see it so differently.
Learning to be Christina….
My relationships with my children are evolving, repairing, it’s slow, but it’s happening all around me. The realization of how much beauty I will get to experience as I get to watch them become. I could not have asked for a better life. I say that as if I did not create every second of it. See invisible.
Lately I’m filled with love…. There isn’t a part of this last time that I regret any more because understanding wipes that away. It’s exhausting to fight your own path, your own self. Especially now that I know my own heart, and have a new understanding of how my early life impacted me. It is not and will never be an excuse. It is reality. I was so so hard on myself.
Something I’ve unwittingly ingrained in my children, and now hopefully as they watch me change that, they can heal also.
I think of that feral self I was, and have so much compassion for her pain.
Martha Beck describes so eloquently the pain one can experience when divided and I was divided from self and any family system and I’ve been rushing to get to a place where I can enjoy my children and be connected to them and me, but that journey never looked like that to the naked eye, because you would need a deep understanding of brain, behavior, biology, and my story.
I am working on that last part now, the claiming and the telling….
Anyway it’s time to shower and counsel humans (my greatest privilege), and then have my own counseling. Just a typical Tuesday. I had so many thoughts as I always do, but lately it’s the quiet of my mind that I marvel…..
I’m on the brink…. Of turning around and never looking back. I can’t hurt like this anymore. No man left behind is not working for me. My attachment system is failing my health and wellness. I’ve done this before and it’s how I got out alive. It’s time to do it again.
I need to stop sifting through the wreckage of my old life and accept that it’s time to focus on my new relationship with myself and what is head, rather than what is behind.
I would do anything to make things work, all on my shoulders. I’ve had enough. I’ve had enough. Another wave of grief when will they stop. Sometimes nothing helps. No amount of tattoos, distractions, good moments, nothing helps. Sometimes you just sit in it. For me it feels like it will swallow me, but somehow I’m still here breathing.
I’m just so tired of these waves of grief, the price of love, and trying for something. I’m starting to not punish myself, so that’s good. But I’m real tired of this grief. It’s relentless. Pulling me under. Taking the oxygen out of me. There’s no where to turn for comfort.
I’m reading Mary Karr’s The Liars’ Club and there was a part yesterday where she talked about planning to run away and it included the rest stop bathroom she would live in and how she could afford a corn dog a day. It flashed me back to my own childhood and a memory long forgotten about my own Taco Bell budget for running away and how often I planned it. I didn’t stop planning it and at 17 I executed. I never looked back.
I remembered the playhouse that was my mom and aunts and falling apart and how in my mind I made it a palace, which is what I did with every bad memory. I just turned them into what I would do differently so my life wouldn’t be like that. I took for granted that someday it would all catch me and add up in my functioning. That the cracks would show. No matter how hard I work the wounds are there.
And this relationship with myself that at one point kept me going is now abusive and must give way to something much more vulnerable. I am raw. I am scared.
I think about how immobilized I become with decorating. I think of how no one was ever excited about anything to do with me. So I didn’t have my own things, that I liked. I was just put wherever I could go, and I had to make my own happiness out of my imagination. To constantly go somewhere else in my head.
I sat in that scarcity yesterday. And connected it to becoming frozen now when asking myself what I like. How that’s still such a process and how I’d still like to outsource it due to the sheer overwhelm I experience when trying to make a decision in this area.
Why does it feel life or death or impossible. Just pick up the phone and schedule something. Just fill out the forms. Just make that phone call. Why is it harder than it should be. Why can’t I just accept what happened to me and the outcome of that? Because accepting feels like surrender to all this lack. All or nothing.
I’m in so much pain all the time. And the thing I believe that makes it somewhat bearable is connection. And for me that connection needs to be consistent, safe, and someone who sees me. That connection needs to be with me, but how to even maintain with no fuel.
Running on empty, trying desperately to fill. Tired of how intense everything feels.
I just need to rest and stop involving myself with things that hurt. No matter how much I care. Just when I think I’m getting somewhere I keep getting plucked up and back at the starting line. I know Melissa would tell me right now how far I’ve come, how far from the starting line I am. And I know that’s true.
But I mean specifically with connection. That is empty in terms of partnership, and please don’t try and tell me I have it all in all these other areas. I know and I’m grateful, but that doesn’t stop these holes from bleeding.
I’m tired….. and the suggestion that both are feeling the same so why can’t they just be together is abusive as all hell, when one was always loving and caring, and the other was not.
When the truth teller and the golden child fall in love the gates of hell burn with excitement because everyone is going down.
When the truth teller and the rescuer fall in love it seems like all can be fixed, until the bubble bursts. It’s equally as painful because a rescuer is no more emotionally available. The rescuer rescues everyone but themselves.
I’m not that anymore. And I can’t go forward, and I can’t go back. But I am going forward.
The truth teller just needs to make sure to maintain all by herself because nobody likes the truth. Nobody she knows anyway, certainly not the rescuer or the golden child.
Here I am lost in all these feelings again…..
I’m not abandoning myself this time, and that’s a new kind of lonely, and a new kind of hell, for now.
