Recovery Celebrations

I was alllwaaaays melting down-losing my shit. I had not learned healthy coping skills. For my first 40 years, secondary feelings about my feelings kicked my ass.  In our home feelings were for losers, and for judging. —I felt shitty because life was painful and experiencing pain, duress, and discontent was treated harshly-
generally shamed, punished, gossiped about, and banished.  I was sad about feeling sad and scared I might get scared and tense about getting tense and fully ashamed of it all.  Being name-called and demanded to lighten up OR snap out of it never seemed to do the trick.  Now, I allow myself to have feelings without worrying about having them, and the difficult ones are shorter in duration.

Recovery helps me to unlearn the myths of shame and unworthiness and fear of feelings, and the price for having them–disconnection (from those whom I was never authentically connected, anyway).  Now I am mostly only afraid of being placed in proximity to those who righteously attempt to punish, judge, and challenge my emotional experiences.  When given the choice, I only #gowherethelove is.  Life feels more manageable and even enjoyable this way.  Byeeeeee!

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.

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 ways to engage a 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.

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…why 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  ♥

DGAF–I Totally Give

This reminded me of Christmas Dinner 3 years ago while angsting over my contribution of a salad for the evening meal; worried that the dressing was not turning out. My niece said to me, in a genuinely curious and unthreatening way; “Since when do you care what people think?” This confirmed my sense of my sister’s front-loading her daughters with her story of who I am. So… it was a fair question. I laughed and said nothing because my response would have been too lecture like. What I wanted to say:   “Annie, I obviously would like if everyone appreciated what I do and choose, and NOT allowing other people’s opinions to direct me, is in no way the same as not caring. I have a Higher Power to guide me–and it is not other humans’ opinions or ideas. Not needing to impress others is not the same as not caring. And, I love you and no matter what is said to you, I know you will always know this.” My sister insured the end of connection with her daughters and used who knows what to justify it. But she tells herself and the FOO, it is all for the family—which I am welcome to join at any time.

Hustle Align meme also left me needing to reflect and understand my position on social climbing and spiritual striving. Very different paths and directions. Different Choices.  The need to “appear” agreeable is not something I value, even a little. Some people think I #dgaf but I do. I give lots of fucks about seeking serenity, improving myself, raising children with healthy senses of connection and #belonging I give fucks about my performance at work, not because I need to impress, but because doing better today than yesterday feels amazing. What others think is never my reason for doing or not doing a thing.

I differ from my family because I do not engage in weird flattering comments or offering gifts publicly to make a statement. I don’t so much reject that way of being as I just don’t choose it. I express genuine gratitude, appreciation, and admiration freely and easily. I buy gifts when I see items which a person has shared that they would like–and I give them just because, And then sometimes have nothing material to present on the day of the calendar in which a gift is expected. Maybe even, I am not able to physically attend the event.  But those are not a statements of my love or lack of. Love is 24/7.  Also, I suck at wrapping gifts but I am a terrific gifter all of the days of the year to people whom I feel a gifted connection. So, while the GIFT may be wrapped poorly or not at all and not presented  on the specified day of the year, you will love that shit and remember how much I notice and appreciate you each time you use or see your “gift” from me.

Gifts aimed at impressing or mending feel icky to me.  In my life today, gifts are things we do or get for each other that say:  “I see you.  I hear you.  I know you.  I love you.  As you wish.”  Anything else is a gesture and a statement for sure–but not necessarily a gift.

We all choose how,why, what, and when we give.  Some forms of “giving” are more wholesome and generous than others.  Giving people what they need is badass love.  Giving them what you want them to have is more assy than badass.  Just saaayin, IMHO.

I give great gifts and lots of fucks for reasons and occasions that feel true to me.

I am sorry that…

You never apologized for hurting me but I apologized 12 times for how I handled that pain. That is how I was raised…apologizing for causing other people’s unfortunate behaviors, because I made them act badly, and then apologizing for (reacting)handling myself poorly. Fuck that. I am not sorry for not knowing how to be a better abuse getter. I am sorry only that it took me until age 40 to recognize what is and is not abusive, what is and is not loving and what is and is not my responsibility. I am sorry for the wreckage of not knowing what I did not know about healthy connections and behaviors. I am beyond grateful to get to #breakthecycle Equally grateful that my sister OPENLY and repeatedly said and did the most undeniably hateful and divisive things to me(MY family) —-so that it could finally be illuminated what life as her younger sister has been like. She cooked her own goose and recovery taught me to step back and watch…to keep safe and not own what is not mine and to refuse to deny what is. I finally know what to do when people are abusive. And I know that fighting fire with fire just makes more fire. #NOCONTACT hurts much less than the constant burn of that dynamic. My sister would figuratively set me on fire ?while my mother would nod approvingly and enjoy the warmth.

PS–anytime a person fauxpologizes to you with a statement beginning like this:  “I am sorry that you feel….”  Walk TF away.

Genuine apologies and amends are the most wholesome, humble, badass things a person can do.    It is too much for some, though.

Thank You for Teaching Me

And so I rise from godless, shame-filled decades of anger and despair as I learn and recover from the traumatic effects of the covert abuse dynamics. I am developing faith in my potential to thrive—not just to survive what it means to live within my own skin and mind.

The cunning and psychopathic game of golden child v. scapegoat is devastating, mostly to the scape goat, though the the designated Golden One will insist they are the victim, because on the surface, it can appear that way.  The abuse is subtle and calculated, but the reactions tend to be overt and hysterical for apparently no reason.  Golden (favored) One comes to believe in their own impeccability because by comparison, they are clearly the good one in this zero-sum game.  Seriously, it as if her goodness existed only in the presence of my “badness”. One winner, one loser.

Reporting recent and finally observable actions and written words— (Golden One got sloppy, imposing visibly harmful and hostile initiatives when I refused to engage as I had historically.  She had nothing to work with but her own rage)—I detail the behaviors to support “precious others”–to share with them what they cannot yet see or say for themselves. Sharing allows for the shedding of shame and myths of unworthiness.  Being treated poorly and handling it even more poorly SUCK.  I was never a good abuse getter( I was good at earning it apparently, but not responding to it in ways that were not diminishing to myself and others). I own that!  Total Fail.

Recovery offers me choices (boundaries) I could not have recognized as a child and then a disturbed young adult.  It was news to me to learn that– I am not required to show up for what feels abusive…and when threatened, I am allowed to detach and disengage. There is the claim that my declining of invitations to pretend abusive things are not said and done—equals me abandoning them, while at the same time they smugly need to believe they discarded me and pride themselves on their generous and benevolent declaration that “She is welcome to join anytime”  Yeh, no.  Not available for that anymore.

Learning and changing are uncomfortable.  Remaining in a non-wholesome-love- arrangement makes me feel unstable, unable to cope and thrive.  Why would I choose that?

I am proud of the woman I am becoming and what they taught me. I am a #workinprogress not a #historicalrevisionist as they like to say. I was there. I know my experience.  Anyone compelled to debate or judge that gets all the space they need to do so.  Join me for healing or we part ways.  Either way, thank you for teaching me.  I rise.

The Legacy of Rage

I contemplated deleting my last post because of all of the evidence of my anger–having difficult feelings is proof of defectiveness in my FOO, and cause for dismissal or debate.  In my family of origin, I was the feeler, the over feeler, the overly sensitive one.  Unable to mask or deny pain, anger, joy, confusion.  I was not shown or taught to effectively manage my emotions in healthy ways.  In recovery, I have learned that we cannot selectively numb feelings.  Efforts to numb pain also block other feelings like joy and peace.  So, I have all of these intense emotions, all of the feels, and I am trying to learn how to feel them AND not be
controlled by them.  I am not ashamed of experiencing anger.  Though my sometimes reactive behaviors do not elevate my self esteem.  What does elevate it, is the practice of reflecting on it and being willing to own and amend what I can.   My diminishing words & behavior are a reaction–a

reflection of what is going on inside me in that moment, usually fear can be found at the root.  Deep sigh. (more…)

Serves You Right

I was raised on this line…frequently when I reported something personally difficult, unpleasant, or painful: physically or emotionally, I was told “serves you right”.  The alternative response- a debate aimed at making me believe that I was imagining or misunderstanding my feelings and reality.  The comfort was, I also heard they S.Y.R -message directed at all unfortunates in the world  “serves them right”  –clearly natural consequences for being asshole enough to voice that you might think, want, or feel differently from how my “family” did.  So in this way only, I was not unique or alone. And so, I too hated all of them along side my family, and for obvious reasons, this made me lonelier and more terrified of life and people. Shared judgment and hate don’t make for a solid foundation of lasting and meaningful connection.  It was not a hopeful point of departure.

I still hear the haunting message “Serves you right” and feel shame for things that would not cause shame for emotionally secure people, raised with a healthy senses of self, security, belonging, and boundaries. (more…)

Parenting and Power Struggles

Just SwinginMy parenting game is NOT on point these days. Quick to jump in the ring with my son…I am not so unlike that defeated, blood and sweat covered boxer just swingin’ and hopin’ to connect. Neither dignity nor peace have been won in this way. Shit shit shit—healthy engagement has not been modeled for me and it is unnatural and hard AF. (more…)