The right one will know all of your weaknesses and never use them against you.
I have been meaning to share this experience now, for a while. Not only because of the immense pleasure it gives me but because I feel it might be of service to anyone still looking for authentic connection online. In late 2015, I posted a profile on Match.com after moving back East. Disturbingly, my ex husband appeared as my first match. Actually, it was funny, and at the time we were still friendly and working well together (dun dun dunnnn….before my sister’s campaign). (more…)
As I plan my son’s birthday celebration, I cannot help but relive the pain of him calling me last year on his way home from a dinner hosted by my sister that included my ex husband, his sister (with whom there existed no historical relationship between my sister and them) and my children and nieces and NOT me. Initially, it made me feel ashamed and defective…like more proof of my unworthiness. My sister’s behavior is proof only of her spirit and unwholesome intentions.
And here is the thing. That hostile initiative wrecked my family by 360 degrees. To take in the full impact of her enterprise, endorsed by my own effing mother, any thing other than pain would be insane–defective, actually.
Today’s prayer: Bless her, change me. RFN! My “mother” wants nothing to do with me until I commit to getting over IT and being ok with this sort of behavior. Oh. Ok. Suit yourself. Requiring submission as a term of engagement, I cannot abide. Also passively allowing abuse makes you a people destroyer. We are all making choices, building the lives and identities of our choosing. I prefer benevolence and serenity.
One of my greatest achievements and miracles is the certainty that I don’t cause others to be abusive. AND also, I have not retaliated. Giving them nothing to work with but their own behavior and words. I love recovery. The continued unwholesome interference with MY ex and children would be impossible to live with, if not for my faith in something much greater.
I share for many reasons; to heal, to connect, to speak my truth, and to acknowledge how far I have come. I too was an abuser, before recovery. When we know better, we do better. Without recovery, I surely also would have abused my children. Breaking the cycle is wholesome, badass and 100% miraculous. The afterburn and fall out from choosing a different way, is more far reaching than I prefer, but the rewards of serenity and authenticity, by far outweigh all that is lost.
Interesting and successful people, in my experience, have endured and freely share about overcoming despair, loss and struggle. Maybe that is why I have lacked genuine interest in her efforts to converse, which seem directed entirely at the optic of her own strength and importance or awkward self-deprecation, that leaves her “audience” with the burden of affirming her.
I honestly feel, in my heart, that my failure to be observably impressed by material things or fearful of her power to do damage, drove her to commit this vile act of destruction on my lil family. I think it made her feel insignificant…but honestly, I am not impressed by stuff and I am not afraid. Kindness and courage—those things impress me. Transparency; disclosure of intent and Benevolence –fk yeh. I bow deeply and yield, only to those.
Today, while sweet Greg is out riding, for exercise, I am reaching out to survivors of abuse, anyone in recovery, and my fellow introverts. You are my people, my tribe and Special Days can be grim for US.
A lil vexed, as my sister continues to establish and nurturerelations with my ex and his family. Perhaps less objectionable if any connection at all had existed prior to our divorce. In more wholesome families, even historical relations with prior in-laws would be set aside. I speculate my sister will wish to perform a “family” dinner for my ex, his father and my boys this weekend- featuring her demonstrations of grace and hospitality- proof that she is the good one, cloaked in all white with her stiff and practiced smile. (barfing emoji here) The antics are an unpleasant fact, not a problem. Clearly, I am not yet in acceptance of this shit-show circus. Her investment in these alliances which, for obvious reasons, creates unnecessary conflict between my ex and me (miraculous survivors of hellish marriage and divorce-who worked miracles), intensify our struggle to coparent cohesively for our sons. This is unkind and a disservice to our children. My request to “Please Stop” has been found laughable. (more…)
So, over lunch, I conducted a survey on my sons and their friends, a highly evolved bunch….of course. I asked: “If you were at school and there were only two plates being served for lunch: 1) highly popular but not what you like and 2) an offering of something far less popular, maybe even unusual (They suggested swordfish) which you liked. What do you choose? You would be seated at the table only with others who chose the same food selection as you.” Brilliant response were as follows: (more…)
I know what I bring to the table. So, trust me when I say: I am not afraid to eat alone. Sitting at a well set table positioned precariously atop decades of eggshells (unresolved issues) is something I do not choose. Submitting myself to that energy renders me physically and mentally unwell. Gathering for meals or “special occasions” should not feel awful. Right? (more…)
In my family of origin (FOO) it is necessary to label and dismiss anyone who recalls or processes things differently, as a #historicalrevisionist , particularly if the recollection is less favorable or easy than they can manage. Being told collectively that I was not a good narrator of my own experience effed me up. Seriously, whether I was hot, sad, hungry, scared, the validity of my claims was challenged. So, imagine as a child reporting upsets or emotionally and physically painful encounters to those who cant even tolerate a differing basic sensory reality or personal truth. Perhaps we are all historical revisionists, and by breaking the cycle and contact with my #FOO, I am now officially a Future Revisionist. I will not willingly raise my sons in this culture and climate of confusion and fear. I have not been the only one handled in this way. What separates me, is the manner in which I experienced and reacted (failure to tolerate) to having my reality invalidated,judged, and/or punished. The #narcissistsprayer has allowed me to see the pattern which I could either continue or depart from. Growing up with only sick people as a beacon or guide to know what was good and true did not go well for me. The road ahead is long and so much better than the one behind me. Maybe one day, interest in checking the rearview mirror will be as diminished as I have been by this dynamic.
A Narcissist’s Prayer That didn’t happen. And if it did, it wasn’t that bad. And if it was, that’s not a big deal. And if it is, that’s not my fault. And if it was, I didn’t mean it. And if I did… You deserved it.
I am feeling very in sync with badass Danielle Laporte today. Here is a link to the post I just received via email. Check it out!
One of the things I have paid most dearly for in my FOO and marriage was speaking my truth/ saying NO. I became accustomed to screaming, begging, swearing, hysterical threatening…anything to make my NO legit, heard, to make it stick. These dynamics were sustained for only as long as I would fight or surrender to their will. Once I began to calmly and definitively say “No, that won’t work for me.” without threat,volume, profanity or explanation, those entanglements died. The name calling and belittling were no longer effective in getting me to buckle in shame or fear of banishment. When questioning disrespectful responses to my fair, though unpopular boundaries, I was told I earned it by saying the same thing over and over. Oh. Ok. Same question, same answer. No? I really believed for so long, that if I said it in just the right way with the right voice at the right time, that it would count, that I might count.
Big Open Heart, Big Fucken Fences
My unemotional NO- is intolerable- and heard loud and clear, not respected or honored-but leaves no doubt-only silence and passive aggressive retaliation. I no longer do and accept terms that fail to consider my children and/or me. I no longer participate in my own abuse and neglect. I no longer hang around those who feel entitled to take as they like, at all costs. I do experience anxiety before delivering my new faith and courage-backed NO, and then…. relief & self esteem, once I have. BUT, for the Grace of God, Dare I.
Having nearly mastered “The Art of No”, if I could get to a place of saying yes, yes to things that would elevate the quality of my life, that would be a real miracle.
No, that dinner time is too late for us. No, I will not miss concert planned for three months for your last minute “invite”. No, I do not think ignoring my emails is kind or ok. No, publicly calling me names and excluding me won’t frighten me into coming around. No, connecting directly with my ex-husband to gain access to my children in order to circumvent healing and amends does not work for me. No, telling me that I earned or imagined my abuse is not true. No, I will not be bullied into doing things your way. No, blessing an email that annihilated me does not seem like the act of a kind or safe person. No, being around you without amends does not seem prudent. No, aligning with my ex is not acceptable. No, I wont pretend it didn’t happen. No, most sisters and NORMAL healthy families would not resort to this. No, ignoring my begging you to stop doesn’t feel like people capable of love. No, creating conflict for my children is not acceptable. No, wrecking our nuclear family is not what a kind person does. No, what you did to me as a child is not ok, and probably does not make you gay, and you don’t need to destroy me for fear I might share.
NO CONTACT is the only sane alternative. And as my mother responded to me when I asked to work it out: “I wish you well”.
Simple translation to all of my No’s: “Please stop hurting my family, my children. Please let us be.” Being married to a man, and a judge does not undo the truth of what you do, which speaks to who you are, the nature of your soul. Love and kindness are not selective. Home wrecking is nasty, just like the other things you did. Happy Birthday to my sister. I wished I could drop all my anger over your words and actions and celebrate with you…just let it go and pretend. if I could pretend, I would have never moved cross country to be free of you. If I could pretend, I would still be married. If I could and would pretend, you would have gotten your way and this would not be happening. So maybe the real problem is my refusal to obey and pretend. I will never try harder to do those things. No.
And yes I am angry. In this family identifying someone as angry immediately costs them credibility and invites open fire. Of course I am angry. I own that what is going on is damaging and unfair to my children and I am furious. Who wouldn’t be. I am sad and angry and resent being erased and ganged up on by my ex and my family. If I had less recovery, I would march right into her office and tell her in no uncertain terms what would torture her to hear about herself. Count your blessings I leave your children out of this. I will never reduce myself to doing that because then you would have just a little something legit to work with, not just a raging frustration to gain compliance from me. My side of the street is so effing clean. No behaviors or words of mine aimed at anything except getting peace and space from you and your antics. “Amen”(as she likes to say) Afuckenmen!
Having feelings and healing from trauma is messy as shit, and totally badass. Going to tell my sister off would not be. In fact, it would ease her burden just a little. So technically, it is just a heightened form of withholding on my part….could be a touch more wholesome. For the record, I repeat, Wholesome Badass is what I work towards…not a claim to anything more.
While our Memorial Day weekend was lovely in the simplest of ways, I, not so silently, mourn the reality of my “family” situation. They– are more situational than family. ( hahaha) But seriously, special days are now, a new kind of hard. My ex-husband and I worked beautiful healing miracles after our lengthy and litigious divorce, to move our family cross country, together. My motivation for this post: Invitation to bbq at my best friend’s home caused me sadness, sad that asking my ex to join is no longer appropriate. (more…)
While it is true that I have tapped into the magic of self love, this by no means is an expression of being perfect or finished or in love with myself. It means I recognize my worthiness of connection, wholeness, peace, and kindness of people who value me. I no longer doubt and dislike myself enough to subject myself to the painful brand of love-and I have for now stopped begging for it to be different, with my family of origin. Without self-love, I was willing to come around, to dine with people who name call and behave in ways which are diminishing to me- creating unnecessary hardship and loss of innocence for my children. I realize how I came to marry my children’s father, emotionally and morally vacant, concerned primarily with appearances. Not knowing what being loved and nurtured felt like, I chose more of what I knew. As I have recovered; learned what it means to offer, receive, and welcome wholesome love and nurturing, I no longer tolerate or take blame for others whose behaviors and words I experience as foul. (more…)
The intention for Wholesome Badass is to share my journey, my UN-learnings- openly, inviting community with Trusted Others who also are intensely feeling beings.
I didn’t expect to hear from my ex-husband on Valentine’s Day, especially after years of no contact. When his call came through, I assumed it was urgent—something about our sons. Given our history, I expected it to be disturbing, so
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I’ve come to realize that the way we experience love—and how we later give and receive it—is often rooted in the care we were shown as children. Our caregivers, the ones who were tasked with nurturing and protecting us, taught
I read a quote today which has me weeping. I’m weeping all the time anyway just about over every single song and everything reminding me of all the love I have missed, all the love that was not recieved or
The messages from my family of origin were unmistakable: “We will not show empathy or understanding for your perspective. In response to what we perceive as distortions, we will only offer defense, attack, blame, and relentless conflict.” All I ever
It’s painful to recall being scolded in shaming ways during overwhelming moments: “Why are you so angry? Why are you so defensive? Why are you yelling?” I percieved but could not name the dissonance, the lack of understanding and interest
I am gradually acquiring better language as I work to heal from things which (for lack of a more precise word) I previously identified as abuse. While abusive things were said and done by my family of origin and the