Day 8 Reflection

Ok, not writing at all, about IT is unreasonable and unhealthy. I am tweaking my resolution to add an allowance for myself, to contemplate and write once a week on the things from which I am recovering. To deny that, is unreasonable. It is not all or nothing…that is the sick thinking I was raised on. It is not THIS or THAT.

Healthy, expansive thinking is a matter of BOTH AND. So, while I will intentionally dedicate more thought and energy in other directions, I will also allow myself the outlet for the ongoing effects of my broken family and the brokenness that is being forced on my sons. I am offered daily reminders of that sickness, with each interaction with my ex. I watch helplessly, as my sons have their most basic need for strong unshakable sense of connection & belonging with each of their parents, systematically and righteously undermined. THAT behavior will never be ok, but I am beginning to make sense of IT, and this allows me to recognize healthy options. What is happening, is not OK or normal. BUT, I have tools to help me respond to what I cannot change.

What remains disorienting, when dealing with a disordered personality- Things go their way, and they may randomly behave with kindness and generosity. Things don’t go their way and they swiftly become shaming, cruel, and punitive. You can never know. who or what you are getting.

When you are small and being shaped by this dynamic, it is natural to assume that you cause the changes in behavior/mood. In fact, you are told that you are. In some moments, you will be regarded as drastically more favorable, yet have no clue as to why. You will lose sleep and many hours of your life, trying to discern how to be only the person who dodges cruelty and earns kindness. I am keenly aware of what continues to remain the same. The only things changing—-are the ever-changing moods and– my responses to those. One day at a time. ⏳

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/

Atypical Day 6

Netflix’s Atypical, our first family binge-watching opportunity. Sam, Zahid, and Paige are each so damn relatable and hysterical, and it was consensus that we could not and should not stop after a single episode, or even two. Sweet Greg insists that there is too much adult content for the boys. I do not completely disagree and wish there were less of that. But, I think the gravity of Sam’s story and the depth of the characters, by far out-weigh the “sexy content”. Friendship, loyalty, connection, truth speaking, and celebrated quirkiness, to me, are worth the exposure to the sex-stuff, which my boys are already assaulted by, daily, at school. I dunno.

My older son and I, like Sam, are each quickly and easily overstimulated by most sensory stimulus. As a result we become tired(not in sleepy way), worn down and less resilient to emotional stress. We are thrilled by Sam’s unapologetic truth speaking and relate to his meltdowns and need for space and correctly prepared foods(haha). We are hoping for more seasons, since, like psychos, we burned through the first two, in 3 days. Pacing is something my children may have to learn elsewhere.

Today is Day 6 of intentionally doing, talking, posting, and meme-ing about life, instead of my FOO–very effing un-natural. Definitely, a one day at a time thing… I choose to focus on things that elevate and expand our lives. I suspect that this is not unlike how Sam felt when Paige suggested insisted he practice speaking of things other than penguins and the Antarctic.

Much Love,
Magda Gee

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Day 4 Schitt’s Creek

David Rose #Funny GIF by Schitt's Creek - Find & Share on GIPHY

Having declared on 12/31 that I am moving on and redirecting my attention, I am on day 4 of posting about anything at all that I discover, observe, contemplate, enjoy….

For today, my crush on David Rose is developing into fixation. Like, I want to study him. In David, the polar opposite of Howard Roark from The Fountainhead, I have found another hero and role model. If you enjoy laughing until your stomach hurts and binge-watching Netflix, Schitt’s Creek is a must: only 21 minutes per episode and a teeny 20 second window in between to decide whether or not to continue. The characters and dynamic of David and Alexis are intoxicating. Truly.

I recently saw a brilliant meme: What if Netflix doubled as a dating service like “Here are 7 other singles that watched Grey’s Anatomy for 8 hours–straight”? Similar lifestyle and TV preferences are key. I could not be more pleased that Sweet Greg enjoys binge-watching. Actually, I believe he introduced me to it, with Breaking Bad, Hell on Wheels, and Boardwalk Empire. I think we completed each of the seasons for all of those, within our first 6 months. We have not since found many binge-worthy shows–that we agree on.

Much Love,
Magda Gee

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Day 3 The Fountainhead

As with most things, I am reading The Fountainhead 📖 in true 💉💉💉addict fashion. The clash between Peter Keating and Howard Roark is beyond compelling, as well as the growing heat between Dominique and Howard Roark which lead to the love sexy rape scene, of which I have yet to read.

While Roark and Dominique at some point become lovers, the forced, but still “erotic” sex referenced, is, in fact, rape. It is preposterous to defend that RAPE is limited to vaginal penetration, sexual attacks by strangers, or with females only as victims, and always males as perpetrators. If a person is in any way unable or unwilling to say yes, the answer is NO. How is it ok, ever, to advance on someone, without consent, which can never be assumed…even within romance and marriage? Why do we have only one law regulating sexual engagement, by age but not willingness? Is it more acceptable for one adult to force themselves on another than for frisky teens to mutually engage in sex? It is astonishing to me, that even victims are quick to dismiss their own violations (and therefore, those of others), by accepting that they have somehow brought it on themselves, or that it was “not that bad”, or they are “lucky” it was not worse.

Most people very much do not wish to consider or discuss this matter. I, however, very much do. If my boys have sex before the legal age, I am more accepting of that, than them, as adults, touching others in ways which are unwelcome and unwholesome. Examining and challenging the rape culture disrupts the status quo and entitlement of one population in particular.

Ha! That is it. I love Howard Roark for being a disruptor, transparent AF, not mean, dishonest, or violent not for a moment(not yet-just now at Chapter 15). Sneaky, Posing, Well groomed, Social Climbing Peter Keating and his pathetic mother make me ill. Peter’s image and appearance on paper are his only assets- and this leaves him constantly terrified and insecure that he might lose it all in a second. He despises and feels threatened by Roark’s void of motivation by money and popularity. That makes him unshakable which drives in Peter, his private desire to destroy him. Such a juicy dynamic. I am hooked.

Much Love,
Magda Gee

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2019 Day 1

Best Friends Forevvuh. 42 years of sisterhood. Total traveling pants. Bringing in the New Year with Favorite and her family was a win.  Tastiest foods, 🥮🧀🍤🥝🥘 from as soon as you are hungry all the way until you pop or surrender. Games and /or space for all.  Laughing together at nothing and everything and nobody and everyone.  The belonging-ness is pure magic. 💫How does this happen?  I never feel as if I am a guest or extra.  Nobody does. I cannot help but marvel.  This is how we are meant to live and love.  2019, here I come. Looking forward to tonight, with Sweet Greg and our boys.

I have been reading a ton lately, in addition to my Recovery Literature. Today’s meeting reflected my 2019 intentions. From Paths to Recovery pps14-15 “Even though I was completely convinced that I hadn’t caused his inappropriate behavior, I still had an overwhelming desire to control or cure what was happening.  Once again, I had to sit and feel the discomfort of letting go.”  Letting go, is a less familiar type of discomfort, than my standard white knuckle, claw marking, hanging on. I will have to choose to let go one million times per day. Life gets better when I do and less better when I do not. “Let go or be dragged. ” Right?

I have enjoyed some lighter reads which have brought as much laughter and joy as they have direction, to my life: -The Happiness Project by Gretchen Ruben -By Jen Hatmaker: -For the Love and -Of Mess and Moxie (listening to her on Audible is a great time. Like spending time with a friend). I cannot recommend each of these strongly enough. Also, By Bob Goff -Everybody Always and -Love Does How is it possible for these deeply religious, Jesus loving people, to whom I cannot fully relate, touch me so deeply and allow me to believe in something far better than I have ever known. I am definitely a lover of Jesus Lovers(the good humble ones–not the arrogant psychos)(obvi).

White Fragility by Robin DiAngelo provided much needed language for processing a lifelong dynamic, which I have experienced as unmanageable. There are some serious fragility (ego and entitlement) issues involved. Both humbled and empowered by having glimpsed a more informed examination of the practices of exclusion. Becoming informed and gaining the language necessary to discuss, are essential to my healing and moving on. So, while I will not fixate on IT/them, I will be referencing them.

Becoming by Michelle Obama left me nearly intoxicated–her unyielding grit and grace, two admirable qualities which strive to know and practice– here(WBA), I refer to those traits as badass (not giving up on truth and goodness, while learning when to walk away because there is none to be had) and wholesome (purity of purpose).

Not that Bad by Roxane Gay , clarifies how ” NOT THAT BAD ” is NO WHERE NEAR good enough.  Being maltreated, silenced, diminished– is 100% unacceptable for any single individual or group of people.  Suggestion and insistence otherwise, offering ease to bullying, rape, molestation, physical and verbal abuse.  The definitions for rape, bullying, and abuse are so ridiculously narrow which makes it easy and expected for people to give it a blind eye and a shut mouth. One of the dispatches details an erotic rape scene (as if those words should ever go together), which led me to The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand- The novel champions the individualism of a young architect, Howard Roarke, who unflinchingly defies the tyranny of conventional public opinion. His struggle for personal integrity in a world that values conformity above truth, independence, and creativity, spoke straight to my heart. I have not yet reached the love rape scene, and am curious to see how it is possible and true that many stories and movies can disqualify some sex from being rape, because of a sexyness or hotness about it. Any touching that is not wanted, is rape. Anyone who engages or allows it, is a participant, condoning and perpetuating rape culture. I intend to raise two informed and mindful sexual citizens who learn to hear and say NO, with grace. Or even without, but still recognizing, that if it is not a YES, it is a NO, with regards to touching.

Much Love,
Magda Gee

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No, But This Time I Mean It

I intend to end this year of insanity, by allowing my mother’s recent passing to mark the end of my active attachment to a system which has collectively rejected me from my earliest days.  The ways in which I differ, they cannot understand, respect, OR control.  I officially accept my rejection.  Being excluded from the details of my mother’s death and the memorial service, is perhaps what I needed to be 100% certain. I accept my powerlessness over the fact of their impeccably consistent behavior.  I accept my powerlessness over the fact of their impeccably consistent behaviors and statements. What a pathetic waste of time, working so hard to reject their rejection.

I must waste no more time trying to understand or be understood.  The time to move on is RFN! 

Praying for the willingness to be guided by love and God and not my feeeeeeelings about the tragedy of this and the effects of THEM on my young sons.  My own recovery is the only thing of value I may offer my children. -Step One- I am incapable of service to my children, for as long as I remain mentally entangled. Please feel free to drop me a shiny gold ⭐️ for each day in which I post nothing of them or this.

Much Love,
Magda Gee

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I am sorry, I won't be spoken to that way. We can work to resolve this whenever you are ready and then maybe gather as a "family".

Clear Boundaries are not Grudges

Omg. I woke up thinking about exactly this. How holding a clear and healthy boundary, within my family of origin(and marriage) gets labelled “holding a grudge”. Hellooo ??? It’s not at all, magnanimous to be willing to move on from abuse by your own mouth or hand without willingness to acknowledge and amend.  I can honestly say that in my entire family and marriage experience, not one conflict was ever openly engaged in a way that was mutually aimed at genuine peace, connection, resolution.  The only explanation I find anywhere for a person to punish a plea for resolution is the narcissist personality disorder-which prohibits any sort of rigorous self reflection.  The ego is so large and fragile and will crack if forced to consider any wrongness or fallibility and so they lash out–to punish and reduce those who challenge their sense of rightness. I continue to try to understand my part in this and I recognize beyond doubt, that I do not cause others to say or do bad things.  I am just not that powerful.  

At my mother’s service, it was said a few times how “she never held a grudge”. She was quite good at pretending that hurtful things had not been said or done. It was the expectation that I do the same.  That ability/value was not passed to me genetically, as it was my sister. We differ in this way.  And my need to work together to heal and reconcile is labelled and judged as grudge holding. By refusing to gather with a person(or people) who feels free and right to verbally assault me publicly, privately, passively, and repeatedly is not a grudge. It is a fair and sane boundary.

I presented my self a million ways to Tuesday, for healing and reconciliation. Requests denied. Repeatedly screwing someone over, while insisting you are free from bad feelings and would gladly welcome/allow them “back” into the fold (for more of the same) may not be a “grudge”, but, it is something foul.

Is shunning grudge holding? Is triangulation grudge holding? I think that malevolent behaviors are in fact proof of grudge holding(just without the courage of transparency). Knowingly imposing harm, no matter how smiley while doing it, is egregious non-benevolence.🤷🏽‍♀️  

Yes, I cry, get angry, hurt and need to resolve conflict to reconcile, even and especially when I have a hand in it.  This, this is maturity and mental wellness,  according sources I trust.  Ugh,  Grief is messy. My boys asked how they could be so loved that destroying their mother and father co-parenting was called for, yet mentioning them by name at the service was not.  The mixed messages continue, even from the grave.  They also asked why only my sister was mentioned as caring for her in illness, we relocated cross country and showed up day after day and week after week to serve and love on her–until… Feels like shit, to share with my boys that the lack of mention could be for one of two reasons:  Either, they were not thought of at all…or they were, and then were intentionally excluded.  And much of the service was written/scripted by her, in advance. If she had wanted, she could have said one healing thing. In true Ghoneim fashion, she offered a passive middle finger which, I could only have imagined or earned. This brand of love is as unsafe as it is unwholesome.

Much Love,
Magda Gee

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Are You My Mother?

To state that my feelings about and reasons for attending yesterday’s service for my mother are messy and confusing, is an understatement.  At this moment, this is what I am able to discern. 

  • I did not want my children paraded by and fawned over by people (who wish to claim them as family while shunning their mother) . 
  • The manners in which I was notified of both the death and the service, speak volumes to the collective statement of my “place”.  I would not miss or avoid the service out of fear or shame.  As, I feel neither.
  • The heavily orchestrated gathering illuminated, beyond doubt, that I was not a part of, that I am not even a little included, welcome, or connected.  No belonging.  No business.  The collective has spoken.  I am grateful to have fully witnessed this, together, alongside my children, Favorite, and Sweet Greg.  I have missed much of my life waiting and trying to be heard, understood, welcome, connected. In addition to losing decades to the grief and confusion which defined and consumed me, what hurts more; how that despair, longing, and obsession robbed/robs my boys of my full presence.

As my sister spoke of Judith, I looked at Greg and said “Who is she even talking about?”  He calmly and without delay squeezed my hand and whispered, “She is describing the mother she had”.  That was IT. To hear that sentence is what I have always needed.  Our realities differed, and mine has been regarded as wrong, punishable, invalid.

I am grateful that my sons were able to more clearly witness the dedicated arrangement in which they are being required to force themselves to feel as if they belong and “fit”.  Their father sat neither with us nor with the “family”.  I wonder how he feels about his participation and contribution.  They are definitely more his people than they are mine.  He is easily charmed by shiny people and things. I am certain he glowed with pride over his affiliation with such an accomplished group of people.  I am less easily impressed by things.  

My relationship with my ex, because of our children, is something that may mentally tether me to this.  The boys and I will get counseling to manage the effects of parental alienation.  I cannot spare them, but I can help them become informed and armed with the language to identify the things that, without help, would emotionally wound, and defy the articulation of young boys.

NOTE:  If we do not heal and fix what hurts us, we will seek, date, marry it.  Hopefully, my ex is my final lesson on this.  Abusers, enablers, and less enlightened people may pose the question “Well who is the common variable here, and therefore the problem?”  Abuse is a cycle, a legacy.  

NOTE:  If we grow up being treated as if we are worthy of and the cause for cruelty and banishment, we will seek relationships that affirm that.  If we are raised to feel valued and connected, we will seek relationships that affirm that.  Those become core guiding (beliefs) myths about connection and our “selves”.

My sister and I lived two different experiences.  My mother’s approval and endorsement of her, as clear evidence of fine mothering, connected my sister to the rest of the family.  My mother’s experience with me was used to divide me from them. One of us got a bridge and one got a stonewall.  On my less difficult days, I was sometimes treated kind of like the sick mangey dogs roaming the streets in South East Asia. I recall badly wanting to hold them tightly and whisper “it will be ok”.  But I was afraid and that was a lie(it would never be ok), so I would pet them with a smooth stick or a piece of trash and offer them scraps of food.  It made me feel both sad and like an asshole because I recognized that more was needed and deserved.  

A wise friend shared with me that “Difficult children are here to wake their parents.  But your mother was not interested”.  It is true, she showed reflexive aversion to or dismissal of anything/anyone which/whom was not emotionally simple and intellectually stimulating.  I have been anything but those.

Regarding the memorial service for my sister’s mother, I fared well, until reaching the parking lot where I was met with love and compassion by someone who could see.  I crumbled.  I am not sad for the loss of the mother who discarded me, repeatedly and then departed the world.  I am grateful for her heroic financial rescue during my divorce.  I thanked her for that in all of the ways possible, but never in the form of submission to people who righteously, and with her blessing, diminished me.  Yesterday, that family at the service said good bye to my sister’s mother.  They never even knew mine.

Much Love,
Magda Gee

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Our Mother Who Art in Heaven

Dear Mother,

You must be pleased that I married someone emotionally and morally similar to you and to my sister?  And equally contented that YOUR family shows unyielding loyalty to your will and way in the form of continued stonewalling.  Rest in peace.  Someone should.  

What was my crime again…Oh, I learned to say No to bullshit without screaming and swearing and I refused to actively engage in a war that you all insisted on and have the nerve to ask directly, repeatedly, and without shame why you all so readily hurt me?  I know the answer now, because that is the best you can do.  While you may have banished me, and that hurts like hell, probably forever…the truth is I do not belong with people capable of this.  I am definitely not one of you.

I am breaking the cycle, mourning the footing of the bill, by my children–for the continued and imposed spiritual and emotional sickness. Oh how I do miss the gorgeous 2500 miles between here and California but am eternally grateful that your physical illness and Randy’s desire to buy a home, brought us here. Even with the grief of your triangulation with the boys’ father, the pain you all bring, means little compared to the healing love of my sweet Greg and Favorite. I could not live without them. In a way, you and R are responsible for that also. So thanks!

Always,

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/

Social Media for Abuse Awareness

People say don’t use social media to post your personal problems. I use social media to post about abuse because it is a social problem.  I am taking all necessary measures to protect and to heal myself from decades of abuse.  Being shamed and silenced is secondary trauma, which typically yields more damage than the initial or continued abuse. There are two parts to every trauma, the initial trauma (what did or did not happen) and the secondary trauma of how that gets handled(or not handled). Each person who has known me, pre-recovery, has certainly, in some way been impacted by me, probably in ways that were disturbing or damaging. Hurt people hurt people. I learned what I lived and it was awful. I can see that.

We each are in daily contact with someone who is suffering from some form of abuse, past or present. Just consider being a loving witness. Not to fix or gloss over, but to listen and be present.  Hold space for healing. So many of you have done that for me this week. Thank you. Very Grateful.

Just as rape is not always a bloody take down, in an alley by a man against a woman, and drug abuse and addiction don’t always look like track marks in an arm, a lost job, DUI, or a car wrapped around a tree, abuse of people does not always present with marks of observable physical violence.

It is very disturbing that in our culture, it is more acceptable to impose abuse than it is to speak of it. I object to that. Speaking up is considered more of a transgression, a sign of non-forgiveness or mental instability–therefore making all claims inadmissible and unworthy of action or attention. I will continue posting, sharing, recovering and connecting with others who have the courage to do the work and to grow beyond.

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/

Pills That are Hard to Swallow

Trying to surrender my current prayer of “Make it fucken stop” for “PLEASE 🙏🏼 Help me become willing to accept the things I cannot change and to just love the hell out of my sons and my people”. Digging deep to accept the things I dislike and over which I have no power. Recovery teaches me that if it is a problem, there will be a solution. If there is no solution, it is not a problem, but an unpleasant fact—to be accepted. Not, the feeling of “It is ok” but the practice of acceptance—doing nothing to try and make it be different from how it IS. I am so very distraught over my boys being used in a game of egos. My sons will lose, no matter what. Anything that requires dissociation is toxic. My pain stems from my lack of acceptance that my sister and ex actively submit my children to things from which they will need to numb or recover. These are the pills which I am gagging down—as many times as it takes. My reaction to the bullshit is neither wholesome nor badass.  AND, I cannot even contemplate grief over the death of my mother- becuase I am too tangled up with my despair over the damage which is righteously heaped uponon my children.  Trauma and dysfunction are messy. Grief is messy.  Healing is messy.

Much Love,
Magda Gee

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BUT WHY THO—Dear Mom

I have never, not ever, not once in 50 years had a moment of resolution with my mother or sister in which each of the people own their contributions to the situation.  All initiatives by me are handled one of three ways:  1-No response.  2- A response that does not acknowledge what I have said but offers me the standing invitation to come pretend everything is ok–to put it all behind us.  Because the only real transgressions are open expressions of feeling or conflict.  It is more acceptable to be openly hurtful than to openly express being hurt.  And finally, my favorite of all(especially when many are copied) 3-Character assassination.  I am certain they agree that if I were less shitty, they wouldn’t HAVE to do that.  I cannot take responsibility for the words and actions of others.  Program teaches me what is and is not mine.

It will be interesting to see if this attempt will be any different.  My older son is so distraught by escalated tension between his father and me, by the triangulation of him with my family–and the reality that for as long as it remains like this, my children can not count on a healed family holiday, seated at a table with both of their parents.  I feel I must try something.  Also, we did not trek our entire lives cross country so that my mother could go to her grave with this bullshit hanging between us.

Here it is↓:

—– Forwarded Message —–
From:  <>
To:  <>
Sent: Tuesday, December 4, 2018 12:27 PM
Subject: Holiday Healing
Hi Mom,
Will there come a day when we will each willingly reflect on our own behaviors and commit to something better?
Healing is amazing.  Why not?? Right?  The clock is ticking.  Loudly.
The current arrangement is damaging my boys for obvious reasons– adding divisive tension between their father and me.  Perhaps you had not considered that.
I have spent most of my life suffering our dynamic.  But, now it is too painful to witness its affects on our children when we, their parents, cannot collaborate effectively or in peace, because of this added and un-necessary divisiveness.  R cannot do better.  But…
I must believe a mother and sister can do better than a scorned ex-husband.

Best,

Maggie

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/

Rest In Peace

Yesterday, overly tired from waking at 4am, unable to return to sleep. I ruined myself from 4-8am, with recycled, if not hysterical thoughts of my older son and the cloud hung over his birthdayS, by his father and my sister.  Lack of sleep will make a person tired.  And, for someone like me, I am crushed, in the sleepless hours, by obsession with upsetting things over which I am powerless.  When mentally fatigued from nights like this, I am unreasonable, insensitive to others, even the Little’s who deserve and count on a more wholesome steady source for guidance and support.

Thank Gawd for last night’s peaceful and undisrupted rest.  It  has restored me, for today, leaving me capable of honest self reflection.

Unlearning. Re-parenting myself one day at a time.

So,  for Sunday night dinner with S1 last night, to my tired mind, S1 seemed unreasonably difficult and disagreeable.  My home-training says to “punish that shit–nip it in the bud! Hard!”.  Recovery suggests PAUSE- practice patience and look to see what is really going on, with him, with myself.  But see, I was beat and could hear mostly my own historical messages, suggesting harshness as a swift means to gain control.  GROSS.  Thank Gawd, Sweet Greg casually noted:  “Wow, he seems tired.”  SG shared this without agenda, a wise observation of an escalating struggle to get teeth cleaned and clothes put away.

Because of Greg’s sanity and love(the wholesome yummy kind), I was able to re-direct myself and ask S1:  Do you want to go lie down in your bed and have alone time before returning to your dad’s?  Or would you like for us all to go in my room and hang out together?  He chose and raced to my room,  to get in my bed, on my side, under my weighted blanket.  His whole vibe elevated.  He needed our proximity, without engagement, not to be alone, but to be allowed to mentally unhook, not enmeshed, abandoned or banished.  I totally relate to  that:  the need to feel organic closeness without entanglement.  THIS is exactly how I felt and what I needed, on the day that Greg agreed to our silent hike(when I tricked him into loving me), 3 years ago.  Oh Sweet Greg,  I am so grateful for his way.  Though, I do make certain to, repeatedly, remind him that he cannot take full credit for his good spirit and cheerful attitude as he was born and raised that way.  We laugh, he really is (mostly)divine.  Who cares why?  I take no credit for having not been born easy breezy or into a nurturing environment.  I do take credit for all of the practices of love, which I am learning, in adulthood,  diametrically opposed to what I experienced, observed, and believed abut love, parenting, control, connection, family, and God.  I claim credit, only for the changes I am willing to make.  Self reflection and correction are wholesome and badass.  They are not for everyone, though.

I took on useless toxic coping and living skills(habits, more than skills) and will dutifully spend my life unlearning– and practicing better ways.  I choose to break habits and cycles. I am a work in progress.  #blessed

 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/