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A Work in Progress — Healing from All the Things​

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What Wholesome Love Looks Like

September 29, 2026

I’ve been reading about relationships—attachment, avoidance, conflict, repair, deflection, ego, intimacy. And I am noting things that feel true to me. Not rules. Not credentials I suddenly possess. Just observations about the habits and behaviors that seem to accompany loving relationships—and that sometimes stand in stark contrast to what I have known. Things like: Habits and Behaviors of Wholesome Love Loving people don’t want to hurt you. And when they do, they are interested in what happened, how it affected you, and what is needed of them. Loving people can appreciate your joy when they aren’t the source of it. They can be interested in what matters to you even when the thing itself doesn’t particularly interest them. They don’t experience your success as threatening, inconsequential, or unworthy of acknowledgment. They can sit beside frustration, disappointment, or despair they cannot fix without needing those feelings to go away so they can be comfortable again. They can hear, “That hurt me,” without automatically translating it into, “You are a terrible person.” They can be deeply interested in their impact even when they are certain of their intent. They can hold two things at once: I didn’t mean to hurt you and you were hurt by what I did. They don’t ask you to name a time, then punish you for bringing up the past when you do. They don’t move the conversation from what happened to what is wrong with you for being affected by what happened. They don’t use your reaction to deflect from the thing you were reacting to. They can be wrong without needing someone else to be wronger. They don’t require agreement before your experience is worthy of consideration. They don’t punish honesty and then seem confused when you stop talking. They don’t repeatedly teach you that bringing them one problem will leave you with two. They don’t call the absence of conflict peace when one person has simply learned that speaking costs too much. They don’t require you to abandon your own perception in order to remain close to them. They don’t need their understanding of themselves to outrank your experience of them. They participate in repair. They remain curious about you. And maybe that is the thing I am noticing most. It is easy to feel loving when nothing about the other person is difficult for you. I am becoming much more interested in what happens when it is. These are some of the things I am beginning to recognize as wholesome love. What Wholesome Love Doesn’t Do And there are some things I believe, as a standard, loving people don’t do. They don’t lie to you or deliberately deceive you. They don’t hide things you have a right to know or withhold information that affects you. They don’t entertain other people in ways that betray you or your relationship. They don’t ridicule, mock, or call you names. They don’t join other people in disrespecting you or stand comfortably by while it happens. They don’t intimidate you. They don’t deliberately make you feel small, afraid, alone, or outside. They don’t take pleasure in your pain. They don’t manipulate situations to protect themselves at your expense. They don’t rewrite what they said or did once it has upset you. They don’t make you pay for knowing or saying something they would rather you didn’t know or say. They don’t use what you love, fear, need, or have trusted them with against you. They don’t make cruelty acceptable because they were angry. They don’t make betrayal acceptable because they were unhappy. They dont punish you. And call it a natural consequence. They don’t require your confusion for their story to work. And they don’t repeatedly leave you wondering whether you matter to them at all. I guess, if I were to be succinct: loving people lift others up. Not just people they wish to impress or need something from. Just people. They don’t break others down. What would you add about what wholesome love does—and doesn’t do?

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Cartoon-style black-and-white drawing on a soft green background of a girl feeding papers labeled trauma, confusion, misinformation, doubt, and shame into a machine labeled “Processing Through Writing.” Papers coming out say agency, discernment, and intention. Her bag has a small WBA heart logo, and the image is watermarked with wholesomebadass.com.

The Shit Before the Shift

September 29, 2026

No Dimmer Switch I feel everything the most amount—the good and the unpleasant—constantly. Everything in high definition. I am a deep feeler, or as the archetype likes to say: thin-skinned, overly sensitive. Not a crime. Not a defect. But not an easy way to be in the world. From my tiniest days, I recall feeling inconsolably rattled, navigating my tightly wound nervous system and sensitive disposition with no guidance, knowledge, language, or skill set for any of it. I cannot recall another version of myself underneath it all – who ever felt secure, grounded, safe, and not overwhelmed. That has been my baseline. It is not a great point of departure. Billed to Me I was raised to believe that other people’s harsh behavior spoke directly to the quality of my person, my character, and my worth. Which was terribly confusing, because I was also often scolded for asking if a person was upset with me, “Not everything is about you.” And yet other people’s unfavorable moods and behaviors were consistently billed to me or altogether denied. So… difficult moods and feelings—mine and theirs—were my responsibility. And no clue how to manage that. Painfully aware: I was constantly and undeniably failing. While nobody taught or encouraged me to know, soothe, value, or care for myself, I was expected to read, anticipate, prevent, and manage other people’s difficult feelings. So many times, blood relatives would demand in a menacing tone, “What are you so angry about?” But it was not a genuine inquiry. It was a callout: look at you, with that massive chink in your armor. Feel ashamed and pipe down or else. There is real sadness in looking back and realizing how much unmanaged, daily compounded stress was attributed exclusively to my “poor character.” I spent more than forty years trying to do the impossible thing of getting different and becoming someone else. My only ambition. What a tragic fucken waste. Stripped of any potential to self-actualize. The Familiar And having been been handled like a piece of literal shit—a poopy diaper—I did not instinctively seek nourishing and affirming relationships. I had learned that love looked like people who genuinely were not FOR me—unless and only when I was useful to them. This explains so much. At many levels, I believe the only thing I shared in common with my family of origin was that we all held me in the lowest regard. That is hard to reconcile. And tragically, my only direction was toward the familiar. Ooof. Decades of trying to feel better, by any means possible, without really knowing what I was trying to feel better from. From being a shiftless piece of shit?? There is literally no relief from that. I mistook random positive intermittent reinforcement for kindness and brought that out into the world with me as the love I sought. And sometimes the love I gave. I hate that. Better Information I am proud to have interrupted that cycle, that I did not hand that poison directly to my sons. No matter what is said about me, it cannot be denied that I rode faithfully for my children. Without exception. Maybe not perfectly or without pain to them, but with fierce loyalty and constant sacrifice. In learning about trauma and nervous systems. Neglect. Generational abuse. Coercive abuse. Scapegoating. Triangulation. Attachment, fear, compulsion. I recognize how I confused what was recognizable with what was safe and acceptable. For and from myself. Agency With better information now, I get to experience something that for so long eluded me: agency—where I carefully consider who, what, how, and when to engage, and whether engagement is even required or prudent. Writing helps me recognize and organize all of the me’s inside of me—with no intent to prosecute my past or acquit any of my me’s. I work tirelessly to untangle my myths and misconceptions about myself, love, connection, and kindness. It is a true miracle to have grown into the loving, honest, dependable, funny, compassionate, and loyal woman I am. And this is also true: I have not always known how to move in these ways—or how to move with people who equally value them. First the unlearning. The shit before the shift, I guess. What were you led to believe about yourself because of the way someone else treated you? And do you still belive it?

Read More
doesn’t.

What Wholesome Love Looks Like

September 29, 2026

I’ve been reading about relationships—attachment, avoidance, conflict, repair, deflection, ego, intimacy. And I am noting things that feel true to me. Not rules. Not credentials I suddenly possess. Just observations about the habits and behaviors that seem to accompany loving relationships—and that sometimes stand in stark contrast to what I have known. Things like: Habits and Behaviors of Wholesome Love Loving people don’t want to hurt you. And when they do, they are interested in what happened, how it affected you, and what is needed of them. Loving people can appreciate your joy when they aren’t the source of it. They can be interested in what matters to you even when the thing itself doesn’t particularly interest them. They don’t experience your success as threatening, inconsequential, or unworthy of acknowledgment. They can sit beside frustration, disappointment, or despair they cannot fix without needing those feelings to go away so they can be comfortable again. They can hear, “That hurt me,” without automatically translating it into, “You are a terrible person.” They can be deeply interested in their impact even when they are certain of their intent. They can hold two things at once: I didn’t mean to hurt you and you were hurt by what I did. They don’t ask you to name a time, then punish you for bringing up the past when you do. They don’t move the conversation from what happened to what is wrong with you for being affected by what happened. They don’t use your reaction to deflect from the thing you were reacting to. They can be wrong without needing someone else to be wronger. They don’t require agreement before your experience is worthy of consideration. They don’t punish honesty and then seem confused when you stop talking. They don’t repeatedly teach you that bringing them one problem will leave you with two. They don’t call the absence of conflict peace when one person has simply learned that speaking costs too much. They don’t require you to abandon your own perception in order to remain close to them. They don’t need their understanding of themselves to outrank your experience of them. They participate in repair. They remain curious about you. And maybe that is the thing I am noticing most. It is easy to feel loving when nothing about the other person is difficult for you. I am becoming much more interested in what happens when it is. These are some of the things I am beginning to recognize as wholesome love. What Wholesome Love Doesn’t Do And there are some things I believe, as a standard, loving people don’t do. They don’t lie to you or deliberately deceive you. They don’t hide things you have a right to know or withhold information that affects you. They don’t entertain other people in ways that betray you or your relationship. They don’t ridicule, mock, or call you names. They don’t join other people in disrespecting you or stand comfortably by while it happens. They don’t intimidate you. They don’t deliberately make you feel small, afraid, alone, or outside. They don’t take pleasure in your pain. They don’t manipulate situations to protect themselves at your expense. They don’t rewrite what they said or did once it has upset you. They don’t make you pay for knowing or saying something they would rather you didn’t know or say. They don’t use what you love, fear, need, or have trusted them with against you. They don’t make cruelty acceptable because they were angry. They don’t make betrayal acceptable because they were unhappy. They dont punish you. And call it a natural consequence. They don’t require your confusion for their story to work. And they don’t repeatedly leave you wondering whether you matter to them at all. I guess, if I were to be succinct: loving people lift others up. Not just people they wish to impress or need something from. Just people. They don’t break others down. What would you add about what wholesome love does—and doesn’t do?

Read More
Cartoon-style black-and-white drawing on a soft green background of a girl feeding papers labeled trauma, confusion, misinformation, doubt, and shame into a machine labeled “Processing Through Writing.” Papers coming out say agency, discernment, and intention. Her bag has a small WBA heart logo, and the image is watermarked with wholesomebadass.com.

The Shit Before the Shift

September 29, 2026

No Dimmer Switch I feel everything the most amount—the good and the unpleasant—constantly. Everything in high definition. I am a deep feeler, or as the archetype likes to say: thin-skinned, overly sensitive. Not a crime. Not a defect. But not an easy way to be in the world. From my tiniest days, I recall feeling inconsolably rattled, navigating my tightly wound nervous system and sensitive disposition with no guidance, knowledge, language, or skill set for any of it. I cannot recall another version of myself underneath it all – who ever felt secure, grounded, safe, and not overwhelmed. That has been my baseline. It is not a great point of departure. Billed to Me I was raised to believe that other people’s harsh behavior spoke directly to the quality of my person, my character, and my worth. Which was terribly confusing, because I was also often scolded for asking if a person was upset with me, “Not everything is about you.” And yet other people’s unfavorable moods and behaviors were consistently billed to me or altogether denied. So… difficult moods and feelings—mine and theirs—were my responsibility. And no clue how to manage that. Painfully aware: I was constantly and undeniably failing. While nobody taught or encouraged me to know, soothe, value, or care for myself, I was expected to read, anticipate, prevent, and manage other people’s difficult feelings. So many times, blood relatives would demand in a menacing tone, “What are you so angry about?” But it was not a genuine inquiry. It was a callout: look at you, with that massive chink in your armor. Feel ashamed and pipe down or else. There is real sadness in looking back and realizing how much unmanaged, daily compounded stress was attributed exclusively to my “poor character.” I spent more than forty years trying to do the impossible thing of getting different and becoming someone else. My only ambition. What a tragic fucken waste. Stripped of any potential to self-actualize. The Familiar And having been been handled like a piece of literal shit—a poopy diaper—I did not instinctively seek nourishing and affirming relationships. I had learned that love looked like people who genuinely were not FOR me—unless and only when I was useful to them. This explains so much. At many levels, I believe the only thing I shared in common with my family of origin was that we all held me in the lowest regard. That is hard to reconcile. And tragically, my only direction was toward the familiar. Ooof. Decades of trying to feel better, by any means possible, without really knowing what I was trying to feel better from. From being a shiftless piece of shit?? There is literally no relief from that. I mistook random positive intermittent reinforcement for kindness and brought that out into the world with me as the love I sought. And sometimes the love I gave. I hate that. Better Information I am proud to have interrupted that cycle, that I did not hand that poison directly to my sons. No matter what is said about me, it cannot be denied that I rode faithfully for my children. Without exception. Maybe not perfectly or without pain to them, but with fierce loyalty and constant sacrifice. In learning about trauma and nervous systems. Neglect. Generational abuse. Coercive abuse. Scapegoating. Triangulation. Attachment, fear, compulsion. I recognize how I confused what was recognizable with what was safe and acceptable. For and from myself. Agency With better information now, I get to experience something that for so long eluded me: agency—where I carefully consider who, what, how, and when to engage, and whether engagement is even required or prudent. Writing helps me recognize and organize all of the me’s inside of me—with no intent to prosecute my past or acquit any of my me’s. I work tirelessly to untangle my myths and misconceptions about myself, love, connection, and kindness. It is a true miracle to have grown into the loving, honest, dependable, funny, compassionate, and loyal woman I am. And this is also true: I have not always known how to move in these ways—or how to move with people who equally value them. First the unlearning. The shit before the shift, I guess. What were you led to believe about yourself because of the way someone else treated you? And do you still belive it?

Read More