Liz Earnshaw Quote: One of the strongest forces in the world is a family resisting change.

Cycle Breaking–and the Fall Out

From Liz Earnshaw (Click anywhere on this post to read more from her): There is a phenomenon in families known as homeostasis (really, in any group of people , but I’ll stick to families here).

Families seek to maintain the “organization” they’re accustomed to. They are driven to maintain functioning as it’s always been – whether the functioning is good or bad.

When the status quo is interrupted then other members cannot function “smoothly” – I.e. when you change or set a boundary then they can no longer run on their same hamster wheel and that means they have to figure out how else to run and most people don’t feel up to finding new ways to do things… so instead they fight you… hard… to get back on their hamster wheel.

This is one of the biggest reasons people end up giving up on their boundaries or their new way of being in relation to their families – the fight a family puts up against your change is POWERFUL.

It can result in being cut out, shamed, shunned, gossiped about, threatened, etc, etc. and this is really really hard.

So, if you’re experiencing this you’re not alone. It’s common *and* that doesn’t make it okay. It is still painful and difficult and exhausting.

Continue to focus on your goal of keeping yourself healthy and safe and remind yourself that the power of a family wanting to regain “homeostasis” is strong, but you’re stronger.

Better Living

I did not comprehend or grasp anything close to sane thinking before entering into my program of recovery.  After my first Al-Anon meeting, I attended every single 12 step program I could, because my hunger for the 12 Steps and 12 Principles was insatiable.  I was thrilled and awed to discover that there existed, this design for living, which I could accept and apply, to help me change and live my life.  I had not learned how to live– only to survive, and barely.  
I struggled mightily and for years, with the language around God and Higher Power but I listened and wrote and wrote and shared and engaged the topic– until.  My formative experience made no sense to me–it was godless, hopelessly dark, faithless, merciless and sometimes manic.  Like– whenever the pain and punishment abated for any amount of time, I would feel frenzied by the notion that things were suddenly and forever all better.  I was baffled and deeply disturbed by how things seemed to change swiftly and drastically in our home.  I recognize now, that the only things that ever actually changed, were the moods of people with whom I lived and on whom I counted.  It was volatile, scary, sad, angry.  I learned and became what I lived.

Getting to replace the changing rules and moods with the static principles of 12 Step Recovery, to guide me , was the beginning of my journey into sane living. My hope is that my boys will find/seek a force or presence to count on, one which is humble—not human, vain, depressed, moody, or addicted to anything. As we continue to attend church and share doubts and discomforts about certain lessons and conversations, I remind them that we do not attend church in order to become convinced or “religious”. We are there to join with others who wish to learn and practice living in ways which are more meaningful and less self-seeking and self-serving.

It is no matter how much we believe or agree with all of IT(certain stories from the bible). What we can believe and count on, I hope, is that to allow ourselves to be directed by faith, kindness, honesty, service, humility, courage, and mercy will lead us to and through our best lives.

Sweet Mercy

I am beyond excited for my upcoming and long awaited appointment to finish my back-piece tattoo, a sprawling octopus which we began more than a year ago. I am hoping that time will permit another tattoo of the word mercy on my left inner arm. Mercy is a thing, to which I am dedicating much thought as I seek to make peace in my heart, peace, which does not require this elusive thing called forgiveness- for people who are not sorry for doing and saying the unforgivable, and who show no sign of intent to stop. I want to be merciful. To extend mercy seems the most wholesome badass thing I can imagine, at this moment. In this dynamic, it remains unclear how I may do this while insulating myself from the merciless? To be merciful with them, feels impossible. Maybe I surrender the hope of working together with a man who has no mercy for his own children- a man who has always placed his ego and emotional needs before those of our young sons.

For my birthday, I think I experienced a glimpse of mercy. Mercy, by definition, is “unmerited by the wrongdoer”. Having mercy means I accept that hurt people hurt people and then, just maybe loosen my grip on the proverbial nooses which I hold around their necks— as it is not possible for me to hold a noose and to remain spiritually clean and free. It is hurtful to me, to even indulge in noosey thoughts and attitudes–Doing so, makes me merciless. Since it is not possible to hurt myself without also negatively affecting those who love and count on me, I must change.

When my ex reported to me loss of his job this week, amazingly, my first instinct was one of compassion/concern, because he is nothing, if not proud AND this will affect our boys. I am keenly aware that hardship for him translates to hardship for our children, therefore I can and do not want that for him/them. I briefly contemplated sharing with him, how my Sweet Greg was recently let go and that Bestie’s husband was also cut loose from his job. Both were shocked but managed to move forward with ease and grace. Clearly–it happens to the best. But– I did not offer this information. I was kind and civil and stopped there–telling him only that I was sorry and would do what I could to help. Old me would wanted to say something cutting and spiteful–to be merciless and punitive— “serves you right, asshole”. I did not. Miracle: that this was my second thought, and not my first.

Our sons’ happiest moments are those in which their parents worked and ate together as a family, post divorce. I feel that mercy is our only hope for a return to that. I want nothing to do with him, for so long as he triangulates with my sister and willingly involves our boys. It’ll be interesting to see how my striving to behave mercifully will be challenged by holiday antics, which leave my children unnecessarily in the midst of complicated and painful bullshit. I told the boys that I would like for them to to be with me for Thanksgiving at Bestie’s with Greg, BUT that– if their father has no known plans, they must offer to cook and eat and celebrate with him—as nobody deserves to feel alone and without family, especially during the holidays. This shift is nothing short of miraculous. Truly.

I long for the day, when it might be appropriate, prudent, and good to invite my ex to join in our precious framily traditions. Bestie and Greg support this inspite of what they have witnessed. They support healing and our family– unselfishly and unconditionally. Does having mercy for my ex and our boys require placing myself in a position to be hurt by one who knowingly chooses behaviors which result in harm to US? If so, I am not there, yet. I am a work in progress.

My Saddest Day

I have lived many sad years, decades actually. Life, even on the most special of days, has been that, for me. So, when asked what is my saddest day, I had to take time to think. My saddest day was maybe the day I knowingly married someone who “loved” me as my family had hated me. I wished I could say it was the passing of either of my parents. That would be a lovely way to feel–to have known the great pain of losing of someone by whom I felt fiercely loved and to whom I believed myself to be strongly connected. My parents were not that for me. My father made it clear I was not like “everyone” else (He was mostly referring to whiteness, christianness, and southernness). And my mother and sister made sure to remind me of all the ways which I failed to be like them. There was no safe place for me. Nowhere felt good.

I guess, my saddest day ever, was the day my sons phoned me from their dad’s car, with their Aunt, whose hostile and divisive maneuvers can be explained by (but not excused) her decades of untreated addiction. It was my younger son’s birthday weekend and I had agreed to let the boys stay with their father for a Sunday dinner which, according to our legal arrangement, would have been with me.

My sons(who were typically not encouraged to call or connect with me while with their father), called to report that they were returning from dinner with my mother and sister (with whom I was not on speaking terms). The sound which emerged from me, after putting the phone down, was one which I have not made before or since. I do not have any words to communicate the feeling. There are no words to effectively describe the reaction to this level of what to me, seemed betrayal of demonic proportions.

A dinner table arranged for and by people who are angry with me, posing as a celebration for my son, and which I knew nothing of- before the call. The lie they told my children— that I had been invited and chosen not to go. The response to my email asking why they would do such a divisive thing– offering no reason, just an assassination of my character with my mother, my nieces, my ex, and his sister copied. What the fuck?!

My ex and I had worked miracles to move cross country together, as a family–so that I could help my mother and he could purchase a home of his own. In that one foul play, our work of healing was set a blaze. Ashes. Whatever it was that bonded my sister to my ex, was more important than the solidarity of healthy co-parenting, which I believe my sons deserve. The loss of that is immeasurable. The grief of what has been snatched from my sons, is typically too much to bear. I cannot get over it. It is not over. Every difficult situation and decision for them is faced and made without the blessing of parents joined for the common cause of the children’s well being. That colluding and collaboration guaranteed the impossibility of shared purpose required to work together, raising healthy children with a solid sense of belonging and connection and truth. What a mess. My children were never happier than when mom and dad sat at tables together with them and for them. Gone. Poof!

My program of recovery helps me to manage myself while in the middle of this. While I cannot fix it, I can follow program wisdom and not make it worse by expecting or demanding healing and closure with people who behave in these ways–knowingly imposing struggle, hardship, and loss.

Today in church, sin was defined for us— as a behavior which infringes negatively on another’s freedom, any choice which knowingly causes hardship for others. I have previously referred to this as unwholesome, by my own definition, and am comforted by a deeper understanding of sin. Choosing the spiritual path requires a sacrificing for others not OF others….the constant choice to do what I ought to do v. what I want to do. Anything with strong emotional appeal is typically driven by our own will, ego, envy, vanity, selfish ambition, and hunger. These are things I surrender to remain on the path and in the direction of God. That is my wish. That is my recovery and my miracle–having a path and a God.

The pastor asked us to contemplate the question(in times when we are feeling the strong emotional appeal of doing or having a thing): “What does love require of me?”. To be clear, I interpret this to mean God’s love and spirituality, not approval and the pleasure of myself and others. I see how most of my life was driven by distorted perceptions of love and connection. Because of my distorted perception and my lack of wholesome guidance and direction, my choices and attitudes were rooted in selfish and defective thinking. I had no path, only my reactions and faulty beliefs, to guide me. That is how I navigated and endured 40 years of god-less life.

In one million years, I would not have imagined a biblical quote might be something of comfort and relevance to me–or that I might savor or share. Without the sermon, to help me understand the sentiment of this, these would be just words, weird bibley words for only the christiany people.

But THIS from Galatians 5:22-23: But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, 23 gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.

In the church we attend, which I have heard my boys refer to as “our church”, it is continually said, that ours is a church in which you get to belong, before you believe. How amazing is that? Belonging and belief in and to something greater than ourselves—these are necessities. My boys have had removed from them, an experience based and unshakeable belief in loyalty and faithfulness of family. What will they believe? That it is ok to collaborate and triangulate against each other. ??? They have no reason to think otherwise. It is the norm on all sides of their families.

The Anatomy of Trust

After posting the image to IG, I was reminded of the Brene Brown Video called the Anatomy of Trust. She makes it clear to see what trust does and looks like. I can not get enough affirmation for how I experienced my family and the effects it had on me, the lack of safety and trust—-I am working hard, swimming upstream so that I may offer my boys a safer experience than what I had. Below are some items I want to share for my readers and one day my sons.

Brene’s BRAVING acronym helps us to build self-trust and understand how self-trust is essential in building meaningful connections so that we can show up for ourselves and for our classroom community. Boundaries – What’s okay and what’s not okay. Reliability – You do what you say you’ll do. Accountability – You own your mistakes, apologize, and make amends. Vault – You don’t share information or experiences that are not yours to share. Integrity – You choose courage over comfort. You choose what is right over what is fun, fast, or easy. And you choose to practice your values rather than simply professing them. Nonjudgment – I can ask for what I need, and you can ask for what you need. Generosity – You extend the most generous interpretation possible to the intentions, words, and actions of others. ***By these measures, my only option is to maintain distance from those who repeatedly and righteously live in ways that disregard these Principles.

Trust is defined as choosing to risk making something you value vulnerable to another person’s actions. When you trust someone, what you make vulnerable can range from concrete things such as money, a job, a promotion, or a particular goal, to less tangible things like a belief you hold, a cherished way of doing things, your “good name,” or even your sense of happiness and well being. Whatever you choose to make vulnerable to the other’s actions, you do so because you believe their actions will support it or, at the very least, will not harm it.  ***In my case, it was my children I made vulnerable.

Distrust is– what I’ve shared with you that is important to me is not safe with you.

I am a work in progress. The continual unlearning. And the Learning and Practicing BRAVING, in all of my relationships— limiting personal relations, to only those who share these values. What a miracle to know better, do better, live better, love better.

Because I was Terrified

I was terrified and ashamed and I did not know what to do, for much of my life. With the only consistent direction: “Be somebody entirely different (think, feel, want, and hate, exactly as we do) or fuck off”. My despair over not knowing how to do those things, manifested into behaviors that were bully like.  Or maybe I was just mimicking what I experienced in my home life. Either way, I took that attitude and those behaviors out into the world, as the only ways I knew to be– until I found recovery.  The intensity of my learned hatred for myself made me unkind. Today, I love who I am and how I live and love. I am so proud of my ability and choice to practice kindness as a way of life. I am rarely mean, and when I am, I promptly amend.

When I googled the definition of bully, this was the first result of my search:

bul·ly1/ˈbo͝olē/noun

noun: bully; plural noun: bullies

  1. a person who seeks to harm or intimidate those whom they perceive as vulnerable or threatening
  2. persecutor
  3. oppressor
  4. tyrant
  5. tormentor
  6. browbeaten
  7. intimidator
  8. coercer
  9. subjugator

verb: bully;

seek to harm, intimidate, or coerce

I cringe to recall the many things said and done by me, with the intent to punish, exclude, dominate. I just did not know better. I believe that sometimes I am guilty of bullying one of my sons when I am feeling bullied by him.  My behavior, is a shitty historical reaction and I apologize but cannot seem to altogether stop.  What I mean when I say that I feel as if I am bullying him—is that I employ shame and guilt to try to control the situation, or gain the outcome I feel is necessary.  I hate that.  100% unwholesome.  My other default seems to be a coldish detachment from him, which is probably equally damaging.  This is how I was raised. Yes, I am breaking the cycle one day at a time.  But damn—it is taking too long.

My greatest fear is that my boys will practice what they are witnessing consistently, by the adults to whom they are related, and whom they are likely to emulate. My intent is to consistently practice and model for them, in hopes they will choose: to be includers and connectors, practice rigorous authenticity, self love but not self-promotion, and kindness– to see people struggling or disconnected and to feel desire and compulsion to lift and protect especially those in need of lifting and protection, to stand up to bullies, to not be bullies themselves, to never turn a blind eye. Breaking the cycle is much harder than continuing it. Very effing difficult.

They are spending time this weekend with people whom, to this day, attempt to bully me. I hate it for them. It is their ongoing experience to watch people get picked off and excluded for failure to agree or comply. I just keep telling myself…My job as mom, is to lead, teach, guide. But I desperately want to do some forcing and enforcing. Big surrenders today, every day. I am a work in progress.

Fuck Shame

In recovery, my greatest endeavor and achievement to date, I get to have a God Of My Understanding (GOMU). Before connecting with my very own GOMU, shame, pride, and guilt were my guides– and I knew only dynamics, in which those were generously promised in spades.  

In moments of pridefulness, I could justify doing and saying deeply hurtful things.  In daily life, shame led me to and kept me in toxic relationships. I came to believe that people are assholes because I am a bitch–A loser, unworthy of love, kindness, protection and connection- and entirely responsible for unkind words and behaviors of others.  It was odd to believe that I could cause all of the bad things said and done by others, as well as my own bad behavior.  It made no sense.  It is literally insane to think this way—maddening.

My resentment over this hypocrisy coupled with my inability to understand, change, or exit, grew to unmanageable proportions.  

I lived in fear of my feelings, because they were intense and consistently invalidated and punished.  I sought people who would do that (judge, dismiss, punish). That that was the “love” I learned.

Recovery is freeing me from sick thinking that directed me to yield to shame, guilt, fear, and pride. They make terrible guides and companions.  Having a GOMU has allowed me to become right sized, playing  neither big nor small.  I get to practice living life on life’s terms  WITH HEALTHY BOUNDARIES for myself.  

My boundaries are my spiritual skin.  They remind me that my job is to honor my needs, limits, and responsibilities. That is my job.  So simple, but unfamiliar and challenging, especially with regards to parenting.  I do pretty damn good with those to whom I did not give birth.  I am consistently able to let go of a need to manage and control. Or to attack or defend when threatened.

But my boundaries become tangled up with my sons and I frequently react with emotion which is as historical as it is hysterical and damaging.  With adults, I instinctively exit sticky entanglements and let TF go, because I am not in charge.  But with my sons….it gets complicated. I accept that my job is to lead, guide, teach, not boss—but but but but…

I am a work in progress, reparenting my children right along side myself.  Today is my mother’s birthday.  I have a lot of feelings about how she did and did not parent me.

Bob Goff Love Does

Love Does

If I really think about it. … I could not have done anything great enough to earn the gift of Sweet Greg’s love. AND there is not a thing I could do to lose it. There are definitely things I could do to make him want space from me, but never to make him want to see me suffer or to leverage my weaknesses and vulnerabilities against me. 


One definition of enemy is- someone who wants to see you fail, suffer, be afraid or struggle. Loving people do not choose to cause struggle or suffering for another. Wholesome Love would prevent them from doing so. 


I am re-learning love- I ?have definitely done my share of behaving as an enemy. I married and divorced an enemy- maybe because people who claimed to love me also consistently behaved as enemies—justifying with phrases like “serves you right”. So I did the same to others, until I knew better. 
I forgive myself for what I did not know as a young adult. What I learned about love, connection, worthiness, lovability—all of it was sick and distorted. I am learning a better way. I am a work in progress.

When people attempt to set boundaries with you, it's their attempt to continue the relationship, not an attempt to hurt you.

Deselection

Sweet Greg is here, recovering from brutal wisdom tooth extraction while I battle my obsessive thinking alongside current heinous withdrawal from Xyzal. What a nightmare. Who knew? Greg should be fine within the week, thanks to my excellent care. Ha! But seriously—poor me. I have read reported symptoms for withdrawal from this OTC allergy medicine can persist for months while recovery from my life before recovery– seems never-ending. Today, I am grateful to be enjoying quiet, healing time with Greg- and while trolling IG, to have found this nugget from @janetheclapp

When someone behaves in a way that makes us feel unsafe, behaves violently, betrays sacred trust, chronically disrespects us, is all talk and no follow through, or harms us, in any way– THEY have actually DESELECTED themselves. They have actively chosen behaviour that has lead to the current state of affairs. In choosing to have less contact or even no contact, we are simply responding to behaviour instead of being the person to truly instigate the end result. 

The best, it seems, I can expect, with regards to certain others, is my own adherence to very clear and consistent healthy boundaries around my time, energy, and availability. This is not mean or unforgiving–not equivalent but sometimes equated to holding a grudge. Certain people will perceive a clear and direct boundary as punitive. Fortunately, other peoples’s perceptions are not my responsibility.

After reading the Sunday Self Care post by JaneTheClapp, I now can identify what transpired between my sister and my ex-husband, as an absolute and shared lack of loyalty to the sacred—our children. Whatever they tell themselves and others to justify the damage, is something I may never know– and in fact fails to matter…but I do still wonder. I also wonder what gives them more peace, telling themselves they banished me or telling themselves I opted out of family. Again, it does not matter, but I wonder.

I can envision only one conversation with them, one in which their focus would be only the insistence of their own honorable intent plus all the ways I was asking for it. I must get on with this day and envision more wholesome things. The past week left me doubting some things I know to be true. I needed to sift out my truths, here, in order that I may enter into a new week and not a continuation of all of the weeks that came before.

Luhyuh!