Best Days of Our Lives

Last night, Bryan Adams’ song “Best Days of Our Lives” played on the radio.  For a moment I felt nostalgic, reminded of senior year, summer in particular where we were very actively drinking and chasing boys and good feelings.  Then, I remembered, that I was fucken terrified and miserable and always in one of three ways:

  • about to lose my shit for reasons, of which, even I was not certain
  • losing my shit, for reasons, of which, even I was not certain
  • hiding humiliated, because I had lost my shit, for reasons, of which, even I was not certain

I recognize now that I suffer severe anxiety which was not well tolerated in my family and which made me an easy target for the intolerant rage that pulsed through our “home”. Being targeted rather than comforted caused me despair/depression in addition to heightening my troublesome anxiety.  I was depressed about being anxious and anxious about being depressed and never unaware of the price I would pay when I could not be bullied or shamed out of it.

The best days of my life- I must believe are ahead of me.  If no, shoot me now–a request to which my family would eagerly respond(but only cuz I asked).  But seriously, I think the best days of my life were 3 years ago, when my boys and I moved cross country to be present and to serve my ailing mother, moving here while we were still not speaking- totally willing to show TF up and do as needed.  Being of service to her felt right.  When my ex-husband followed a few months later and we began working together as strongly dedicated CO-parents, a fixed family, more than a broken family, I was thrilled.  From having an alarm installed to keep him out, to offering him keys to use my condo as needed, was an immense step for us.  Our marriage was troubled from the start.  Our divorce was hell —and here we were. Miracles.  Sharing responsibilities, expenses, and even meals.  Those were the best days of my life.  My boys were over the moon with the new collaborative forces.

Relocating cross country: 1) to support my mother and 2) so that my ex could afford to purchase a home was the most wholesome badass move of my life.  Spiritually driven choices. Having the courage to plan a move cross country(to the land I fled and swore to never return) with my ex, to be near the two women(with whom I was not on speaking terms) who terrified me more than any other humans, is nothing short of God’s grace.  My sister set into action a plan which desecrated that.  Initially, this caused me to feel unlovable, unworthy, and disgraced, one more time.  I totally lost my shit–again.  But then, I knew.  And I realized, that her behaviors cannot disgrace me.  Her behaviors, in no way, speak to the quality of my character.  They certainly affect me and have hurt my children.  I fully can acknowledge that but will not take responsibility for what she DID and SAID repeatedly.

(Seemingly random non-sequitur paragraph) My aunt emailed recently, three times in one day asking to know how I am doing.  I feel stronger and more sane, less like losing my shit from that free floating anxiety I feel anytime I engage “them”.  But it felt wrong to not respond.  I thanked her for thinking of me and told her all the ways we were thriving as a family, including and especially, the currently restored collaborative efforts in coparenting with the boys’ father.  Then, crickets, not a peep since.  That shit right there, makes me feel crazy AF.  Similarly, in January, she asked to meet for brunch and said she wanted to see me and when I apologized for being unable, I did not hear again from her until this most recent email.  Against the advice of trusted others, I responded and am guilty of expectation of something different.  Is that hope or foolishness or just the broken wanting parts of me that have not fully accepted what it has always meant for me trying to live, as a part of this “family”?(This paragraph seems random but it is not, to me)

Lat night, I was reflecting how one of my sister’s favorite things to say when she is angry at me, is “It is not always about you”.  To hear this makes me feel foolish and shameful.  Of course it is not always about me. But when you suddenly stop responding to me as if I have not spoken or that I do not exist.  I take that shit personally..  But you know what, you are right—that is not about me.  That is about her way of dealing with whatever it is she has going on in her head. Now, as I reflect back, I see how I was blamed for the unfortunate feelings and behaviors of those around me.  So other people’s emotional unavailability and harshness is about me, but my unique needs for food, space, or sleep, my birthday and Christmas gifts and food offerings appear to have little to do with me.  I still cannot make sense of this.  I cannot accept it–in that I choose now to NOT submit myself for it.  I cannot change it– so– all that is left to do is to give my self the necessary space from it.  Grieving is where I am currently, in my state of recovery.  Grieving for the little Magda Gee that tried to cope in an unmanageable and sick system.  Confused and with no healthy coping skills or solid ground to stand on.  Grieving that the best days of my life came in my late 40s and were righteously snatched.

Placing my ex husband in a situation to choose between my estranged family and me is fucked up.  He is broken and lonely and will always have residual anger for me.  Placing our small boys in the center of this divisive and diminishing scheme feels impossible to forget or forgive.  I am accepting the pain–but not the disgrace.  Even through all of this, recovery allowed me to resist telling my ex or my sister about themselves.  I pray that we may work it out in a more wholesome way or leave each other to our families.  Have your family.  And I will have mine.  Please.

Much Love,
Magda Gee

For shorter, more frequent and fun posts, connect with me on Instagram by clicking the pic- Wholesomebadass. https://www.instagram.com/wholesomebadass/

Shame on Who(or whom)?

You know, as I reflect back on my first 30 years, I no longer feel overtaken by shame.  Shame for immense & unspeakable pain and my inability to manage myself with it and to get a hold of it, to address it, end or resolve it, or at the very least hide it.  I do not feel shame for any of that.  I feel tremendous sadness for the little girl and young woman who felt disconnected, unworthy and alone from her earliest moments.  I am sorry to the people who were harmed by her inability to see the world and herself differently from how she was raised to see.  We are taught by the adults in our lives, how to perceive & define the world and ourselves. …  I failed to identify a how to engage peaceful,secure, and trusting existence.  Panic and shame were my constant companions.  That is tragic for me, not shameful.  Even the shitty coping that lasted into my 30s—Black-out drinking, drugs, food, men, shopping, sleeping—looking back, I feel only grief and compassion.  When I knew better, I did better.

Shame comes when I have used a damaging word or behavior, before amends can be made.  I can honestly say that in my last 15 years, I have done nothing for which I feel continued shame. I am divorced, estranged from my family, and at times am harsh, angry, uncooperative, and sharp tongued.  So, and?  I repeatedly fail to please some and that is A-Okay. I will say this forever:  “My job is not to please others.”  Other people’s approval does not dictate my worthiness of love or dignity.

Or at the very least don’t try to convince me that the darkness is imagined or caused by me. Kay?

My mother choosing my sister over me hurts like hell, but why would I feel shame for another person’s choice? I do not.  Today, separate and away from them, I live a life with faith, direction, connection, and intention.  I change the things I can, accept the things I must, and walk TF away from that and those which diminish me. I work hard, take good care of my children, am a (sometimes great) partner to sweet Greg while living my truth with integrity. My words and actions now line up—always— no matter with whom I am speaking and who may hear or see.  Transparency.  Alignment of my words, values, and actions.  These things build in me, the opposite of shame; self worth and self esteem.  One day at a time, I am unlearning #allofthestuff !

What I now know beyond certainty, is that I might die from shame if it were I who had behaved, spoken, and written as my sister has done. The damage she unleashed is as horrifying as undeniable.  Her involvement of our children and my ex is a disaster.  And- she is a woman of nearly 60.  I was assholing deep into my 30s.  Then, I became a mom, found a program to reparent myself:  learning to take my own inventory (and not other people’s-uh oh).  Oh well, I am recovering not recoverED and I do possibly enjoy taking her juicy inventory….but seriously. Thank gawd that I understand her mess is not mine.

scapegoat image and quoteFor now, my most unfortunate behavior is old, dusty, and amended where possible.  I am a work in progress.  Without recovery, I would be owning all of the shame for these circumstances and conditions–I would be telling myself that I have either caused or imagined and definitely deserve the pain and shame of another person’s choices.  That is one of the greatest lies and myths of the dis-eased family.  The scapegoat– the key symptom of a family with issues.  Even being scapegoated doesn’t shame me, it illuminates how some people and places are safer for me/us than others.

Much Love,
Magda Gee

For shorter, more frequent and fun posts, connect with me on Instagram by clicking the pic- Wholesomebadass. https://www.instagram.com/wholesomebadass/

Get Over It—Umm Okaaay

People with narcissistic personalities and behaviors often confuse holding a healthy boundary for holding a grudge. 

It is prudent,healthy, and fair to openly communicate an unavailability for more of the same diminishing behaviors. ?It is too painful.  ALSO-It is unwholesome and unkind to attempt shaming and manipulating victims with sentiments like #getoverit —And believe you,me…I am over IT.  Completely.  Over feeling like shit because of the divisive things which which I am expected to tolerate.  OR–Does “Get over it” actually mean “ You deserve it.  Now, get back here for some more.”? The sane and healthy response to that is #no This will typically be met with a statement about MY oversensitivity or a refusal to let go, dwelling on the past.  And– that is an unwholesome tactic.  It is not possible to judge or shame a mentally healthy and whole person into coming around for disrespect and dis-ease.  Letting go of toxic dynamics is good for everyone, but frustrating for those who experience a greater need to feel in charge, than connected.  #letthatshitgo   I can never have more than I am willing to settle for.  By removing what isn’t working, I make room for what can work and possibly develop into a mutually respectful connection.  Sick relationships die a natural death in the light of recovery.  I remain 100% available for mending and healing the fractures.  And there will always be something better to do than suffer unnecessarily.  Pain is a part of life, but suffering is optional.  So…3D kittens or white knuckle meals at tables with people who feel fine about harming you?  It is a painful but easy choice.

On a similarish note:   Holiday(really #allofthedays) Rule number 1: #gowheretheloveis  I have some Breaking News:

Healthy boundaries are not grudges, they are gates that allow us to comfortably enjoy our own gardens.

✨We enjoyed a lil deviation from isolating and introverting and had a beautiful peopley day.  Playdate with a new friend.  Easter Egg dying, bike-riding, and nerfing with Sweet Greg and his son.  Passover with my bestie who is 100% family to us.  To witness my boys freely initiating each of member of the #framily, even her parents for Hello and Good-bye hugs is breath-taking. ❤They recognize what wholesome safe love is.  My children know??✨And that means —they also know what it is not healthy safe love. ⚠Today, my sons celebrate their first ?Easter, aware that the Easter Bunny ?may sometimes take human form.  And they fully understand —you must believe if you want to receive.  And believe, they do.  Holidays and celebrations are challenging for me,as these occasions are emotional reminders of the sort of hope, faith, and joy which I did not know, as a child.  #odaat I am doing holidays differently. ?We are spending time with only those whom, we feel safe,included, and connected, exactly as we are.  Happy Easter!  Happy Passover!  We will enjoy Framily Easter lunch today.  ENJOY—-not just attend. ?This holiday has been a #blessed one, unafraid and unashamed, my sons and I gratefully and with glad hearts join those with whom we experience meaningful connection. (aka: in which it is not standard or acceptable to knowingly harm or diminish each other)  I love my #FRAMILY  ♥

Much Love,
Magda Gee

For shorter, more frequent and fun posts, connect with me on Instagram by clicking the pic- Wholesomebadass. https://www.instagram.com/wholesomebadass/