July 4

In my family of origin and then later my mirror image marriage, assertive direct voicing of my own need, preference, or boundary was met with either dismissal, (like as if it did not even get said) passive aggressive blow off or direct aggression, all of which were deemed (within those systems) fair and appropriate. Only my reactions to that were considered problematic.  Catherine G Whitney

With Sweet Greg, I do not worry that he will dismiss, invalidate, judge, persecute or abandon me.  And still, I don’t fully surrender the idea that maaaaaybe we are wrong for each other because of our differing political stances on human rights and our unshared outrage over gun and reproductive rights.  We do believe in: sacrificing and compromising for each other, rigorous honesty, owning, learning, and growing from missteps and misunderstandings.  BUT—Is that enough?  It should be more than enough. 

We have, in nearly 7 years(longer, I think, than my marital entanglement), not considered doing harm or alienating the other.  Even in anger, the urge to do or say a thing to injure, does not occur for us.  Behaving as an enemy is not something we would contemplate, do, or tolerate.  I am certain we could break up without feeling or behaving as nemeses. I think that is love. Right? Wanting only the best for a person even when you cannot get along. Laughing, I have asked him, on more than one occasion “Why couldn’t you be the person I got to divorce?” No energy given to attemtps to dominate, win, advance, gain, defeat…..just parting from a relationship which was not working. He and I, from the get go, unapologetically declared that marriage was of no interest- while each of our exes were eager to get another marriage.

4th of July is little more for me, than tolerating the fireworks which stress the dogs and linger for weeks before and after our actual day of indepence.  Because today is a  “special day” I am triggered and have decided to rehash the ways in which my sister established herself as my first and most dedicated enemy(intermittently also posing as a rescuer of me—v confusing –exclsuively adopting roles as persecutor or savior) and then how I married someone who felt equally entitled and motivated to reduce me, when I was uncooperative, unimpressed, displeased or displeasing.  And the two of them, unsurprisingly pursued a connection, after our devastating and lengthy divorce. I want badly to wish the best for for the father of my children– but that would be some next level shit. 

I genuinely do not want the best for people who righteously seek to oppress, harm and extract. 

Maybe I can want the best for him — once he starts freely and honestly providing basic and accurate information to me, regarding the medical, academic, and logistical matters of our children. Like just a decent co-parent…

Freedom and independence, that is what I crave— to extricate and heal myself from crippling and paralyzing bitterness. Ugh. So much work to do.

My boys and I noted, recently, how the harmful association of their dad with my female sibling, is exclusively serving and soothing only to him and my sister.  Literally Everyone (with a capital E) else lost—most of all—our children!  His abiding antics make it impossible to not wish the very worst for him: whatever it might take to stop or humble him. His allegiance remains in doing only as he always has, at all costs. Prioritzing himself, his desire to be or appear in charge, above what is life-giving and good for our sons.

My persisting unmanageable reactions to this, in front of our sons is shameful and heart breaking. My face, my tone, my over the top expression of despair is beyond unwholesome and damaging. I will not stop working on that—the containment and restraint of reaction to inflicted pain. I cannot choose how I experience pain so I must learn to manage it. For as long as I am reacting to today’s bullshit with 53 years of unhealed trauma, I am not free. There is no freedom in that… And also—the gun and repro legistlation are triggering af. The hypocrisy, the righteousness, the oppression, the violence against living, already born humans is too much for me, maybe because of all my unhealed shit. Also, Fuck Greg Abbott!

When hunger has ravaged you, you’ll consume glass, whisper thanks, and await the next hunger’s call with trembling heart.

YOU ARE THE ONLY PROBLEM!!!

I am working to change learned & damaging behaviors and reactions for which I am always apologizing.  The work part means healing my wounds, which requires intentional examination, understanding them(with professional help), learning from them and then parsing out the parts of my experience which are true and real, from a perscribed narrative designed to characterize (diminish and dehumanize(make it ok to demean me)) me–my patent unlovability.

The most impactful myth to have shaped me and darkened my days- — is that I am unworthy of kindness,protection, & belonging- as well as responsible for the abusive and damaging words and deeds of others….AND that the things which I think, say, feel, need, do— simultaneously do not matter one bit- and yet are tagged as the cause for the dysfunctional family patterns (which exist entirely in my delusions).

In working with a therapist, I have learned that I don’t suffer from PTSD as I had believed, but C-PTSD:  Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  The difference between C-PTSD and PTSD is that PTSD usually occurs after a single traumatic event, while C-PTSD is associated with repeated trauma. 

For those lucky enough to not know:   Trauma is the response to a deeply distressing or disturbing event that overwhelms an individual’s ability to cope, causes feelings of helplessness, diminishes their sense of self and their ability to feel a full range of emotions and experiences. Important to note, that what might register as trauma for one person is not necessarily trauma for another.

I am grasping how my mother’s inability to connect with me(or silence me- because her inability to connect was judged harshly- as failure by at least one of us) caused her anger. Both her brother and mother, seem to have wanted to protect her from that by labelling the problem: “the wrongness of Magda” and then punishing me accordingly, typically with shame and alienation.   My older female sibling was rewarded handsomely for being eagerly on board.

I continue working through the grief over what was said, done, allowed, expected, and required for inclusion in their family.  For as long as my mother could not relate to or accept me, I remained in the crosshairs, right up until her death and beyond.  I hope that in time and with healing, I will experience or practice that elusive thing called forgiveness…. and also adopt more rational calm and deliberate responses to things which I experience as harmful and scary.

How much more time shall be wasted as I ponder which I find more disturbing, the full-grown adult, who did not learn that acts of malice are wrong OR the individual who recognizes spite and vengeance (over feeling slighted, angered, mistreated…. )are wrong and then righteously employs them anyway?   In our family, we are strongly divided into two groups, those who can do no wrong, and the rest of us.  The rest of us are in therapy getting the help we need– while the entitled and never wrong– concern themselves exclusively with getting their way, never self reflecting, never adjusting–AND always seeking people (or as my boys father likes to refer to them: opportunities) who can be useful and make them feel in some way elevated. Catherine G Whitney Randy Dean Ross Maggie Ghoneim

I will continue probing difficult and painful truths- about myself, those I counted on, those to whom I was unkind or unfair, those who were good to me.

Things Learned

So it seems like juuuuusssst maybe the key to living a peaceful and meaningful existence- is in learning how to recover from difficult people, events, experiences, and feelings…AND not in avoiding them or pretending as if they are non-existent.  Shit!  I am deeply entrenched in my desire for distance and avoidance of those with Pollyanna perfectionist tendencies who, while aggressively smiling, elect to deny oversimplify diminish complex issues of which they lack any genuine interest or understanding.

Having my reality denied by people I was supposed to trust and count on—my inherent and uninformed reaction to that, as a child, and then also as a stunted adult – was(is sometimes still) to double tf down to prove and defend my pain— with zero consideration or information about learning to acknowledge and relieve distress in appropriate ways.  I have wasted four-plus decades(and counting) waiting & begging for acknowledgement of and permission to share my pain and be comforted, relieved, helped— by those who “loved” me.

And perhaps there was love.  But I say with fair certainty, even so, the collective decision making and approaches bore little resemblance to love for me.  Love(the verb)—attitude and behavior born out of high regard and loyalty, an unrelenting need to protect and commitment to nurture. That is how I would describe my love for my children.  By this measure I love them immensely, but do I always love them well….not so much.  I admit: My grief, depression and intense emotional reactions have nothing to do with my love for them.  And everything to do with pain and STILL they are shaped and deeply affected by that in spite of “how much I love them”. My capacity for love and loving expands as I heal, and that is not nearly fast enough.

Seems like also, alcohol,  drugs, sex, compulsive behaviors and suicide are highly predictable reactions to not learning to process, manage, and cope with difficulty.  PRO-Tip for parents:  Don’t do that to children and then also judge the fall out of your WILLFUL ignorance and egos or whatever led you to behave and fail them, in those ways.  You cannot shame a child out of discomfort, anxiety, pain.  Even if you pull off the illusion of a buttoned up child who is a pleaser, a healthy child will not naturally emerge, from those efforts. JILAN CATHERINE GHONEIM WHITNEY CATHERINE G WHITNEY

Where tf are children of unwell families to learn healthy coping…oh…in 12 step programs, as adults? 

WE all carry red flags and have blind spots Tiny Buddha Official Catherine G Whitney

Blind Spots- We All Have Them

I cannot change my past, but I can allow myself to be changed by it.  In recovery, self-reflection and growth, for me, have each become motivators and sources of attraction and genuine and sustainble connection with others who are willing to examine and address blind spots, mine, theirs…..  I have reached a place where I feel unable to relate to those unwilling seek out, evaluate, acknowledge a blind spot, and adjust themselves. Only able to know, believe, think, and do as they want and feel. Righteously closed to any conversation which might suggest anything other. Like, they are literally their own gods, no faith in anything but their wills and desires. And the only rules which matter are the ones which they make or choose in the moment.

The historical ways (entanglements with those who can do no wrong) devastate me and the new ways (wholesome connection to those((Poor Sweet Greg)) with open minds and commitment to connection, healing, growing together in relationship) are so utterly unnatural and exhausting.

What do you do when you love a person who promises to never change? And who would easily let you go, if the choice was to work toward change or say good bye. I have been here before. How will I do this differently? I surrender only to god and never again to another human who claims to love me and who prioritizes their rights to dominion and victory over connection and healing.

Blind Spots, Red Flags, whatever you want to call them, we all have them. Beware of anyone claiming their biggest issues or weaknesses are their perfectionism or loyalty. Because while in theory, that sounds lovely, it does not at all mean what it is intended to suggest.

Circling The Drain

The message was consistent, from my family of origin and in my marriage–that my experiences, needs, desires, concerns were invalid, inadmissible, troublesome. When (99.9% of the time) my needs or sentiments were not shared by the others, voicing them served only as grounds for gossip, debate, and conflict.

In my program of recovery, I was directed to avoid jumping in the ring when invited. To stop participating in my own abuse and neglect. While I could not stop it, I definitely could make it worse, for myself, by reacting or coninuing to try to speak and be heard– about the thing. I learned to stop engaging in ways which were escalating, and seemed only to diminish me. I was taught for the first time, how to practice basic self-care, to nurture myself and build resilience. Sadly, I still have no clue how to intentionally seek and do activites which might enrich and elevate the quality of my life. —Only to stop the bleed- to put distance between those and that which harms me. Catherine Ghoneim Whitney

Having been shown that abuse is earned, and the shame is for and on the abused, I too, adopted and justified abusive behaviors.  How was I ever to learn or believe in my own goodness when my family, showed me consistently that they did not? And also — when they abused a person, it was only because that person deserved it???

I am tired, tired from the unlearning– the constant exercise and practice of new thinking and behaviors which do allow me to break the cycle, but coupled with the unforgettable grief, leave me with little energy for much else– like figuring out how to live this life. I observe people all around, achieving, celebrating, relaxing, aspiring and creating. I am grateful to be now working with a therapist to see if I can begin to build some of that into my days. I sure would like for my boys to have more than a shell of a mom, who literally scrapes by one tedious day at a time. OH– And for Sweet Greg to have a fully alive partner who willingly engages in and embraces life, at least some of the time.

Triggered AF wholesome badass Maggie Ghoneim

Just Another List

Qualities which I treasure, not like I am compelled to get to know or call a person a friend, or enter into a relationship, just a deep respect and appreciation for:

Kindness, not friendly so much or social, just kind—chooses benevolence as a way of life

Honesty– chooses difficult truths over comfortable lies

Humility and flexible mind set-  will unflinchingly acknowledge when they have done wrong or caused injury and more interested in learning, understanding, growing, and healing, than in being right.   Also, enjoys laughing at their own mistakes, AND humbly and honestly accepting that they do not always know the answer or solution….because no human can.

Gratitude–  People who notice and appreciate what they have and the good done by others, even when it does not benefit them directly….and especially when it does.

Sweet Greg is all of these things, without fail. Six and a half years – consistently and unquestionably so! I do have confidence that I too live in these ways, but my harsh brittle, broken, sharp edges could make it harder to recognize in me. Like these things in me may pale in comparison to the manifestations of my grief and pain. My “flipping out” steals the show and tries, successfully even, to define me- and is affirming for those who need for me to be wrong, less than, and crazy.

By this code, my choices are things to feel proud of (fn miraculous). My emotional reactions are still NOT.

Characteristics and behaviors which are triggering (af) for me-

Ruthlessness- people who will stop at nothing to get their way, their will be done…. at all costs.

Arrogance- alllways right, a hero, savior, or victim—quick to assign blame, condemn and snatch at credit

Entitlement – absolute lack of humility and gratitude.

Hypocrisy — hypocrites- When people righteously act in conflict with their own claimed moral standards and values—because the inconvenience or personal costs(to them, in a particular moment or situation) outweighs the virtue of acting with morality & integrity.

I am meeting with outside help this week, to try and get a handle on my intense reaction to being in close relationship to those who tend to be triggering for me in these ways.

Each of these triggering ways is common, even normalized. I must be intentional about learning to cope and live with it because, it is a fact of life. I am powerless over others and am equally powerless over my feelings about them. I would very much like to learn to experience sustainable peace no matter how disturbing I find a person to be….especially if I love them, not like love, the feeling, but love (the verb), like wanting only the best for them and sparing them the harm of my reactions, without having to be “no contact”.

My nervous system is so utterly dysregulated and fucked up and deserving of some healing. Jilan Catherine Ghoneim Whitney Catherine G Whitney Randy Dean Ross Maggie Ghoneim

Nate Postlethwait Text Photo- Healing Catherine G Whitney

Unfit

Any form of antihistamine, the smallest dose results, for me, in emotionally violent nightmares. Even antihistamine eye drops, which seems unreasonable, since they are not ingested, dammit.  Desperate for relief from itchy, burning & tearing eyes – I enthusiastically applied my Zatidor eye drops, and what do you know? I passed the night navigating one rigorus and disturbing high definition ordeal.

In my eye drop induced terror, an order had been issued – to eliminate certain individuals, all of whom had no affiliation with one another.  In the dream, I was age 9 or 10, alone, and on the run. And it was as though we were in both Fayetteville, NC and Cairo, Egypt- simultaneously, like a hybrid of the two cities. I don’t recall that there was a name for our unfortunate classification (the persona non grata).  But, in the dream we were easily recognizable and targeting and diminishing one of us was deemed permissable and recreational, by the ruling class.

For outcasts wishing to circumvent elimination: First, someone from the in-group would need to vouch for us and if we were vouched for (worthiness- by proxy) then we were offered the opportunity  to establish our willingness and dedication: watching or participating in the compromising of people, animals, the planet…and consuming Fear-Factor type delicacies. 

So,  I woke with a racing heart in a sweat drenched bed—after days, fleeing, from aggressively smiling members of all ages from the ruling class– intent on “getting” me, through unfamiliar and scary third-worldy alleys – stashing my long brown awkard frame under and behind literally anything large enough — because NOBODY would vouch for me. Then also, if even one person had been willing to claim me, I was unwilling incapable of committing the “acts of dedication and willingness”.

If I had been granted the right to remain living, under those terms and condtions, what quality of life would have been feasible?

My ironclad unworthiness and unwillingness affirmed just how dissimilar and UNFIT I was.

Since I was not yet a mom, I am clueless as to why I dedicated any effort to avoiding elimination. Baffling, really. Why would I try so hard to be in a world surrounded only by people who could find no good in me and who generously offered non-love?

The dream is clearly symbolic and came on the heels of Mothers’ Day. There is just no relief, not even from my allergies. At least, those are seasonal.

Goals

When I mentioned to Sweet Greg last weekend how uncomfortable I am with the 25 extra pounds I have been carrying for the last 4 years.  He said:  “When you are bothered enough, you will do something”.  This is absolutely untrue.  I have never set or achieved a goal of any sort.  Not academic, physical, financial, social, nothing. I have survived, one scary day at a time. Reminding myself: Just get through the day, pray for sleep and know that tomorrow will be very fkn similar.

From decades of believing I was shit and that I would never know comfort, peace, or prosperity, and incapable of changing that, I have lacked hope, ambition, direction and any semblance of connection to myself.  I learned consistently and early on that my best was unfruitful and insufficient.  My resulting depression looks like this:  I do what I must to keep a roof over our heads, a clean enough home with good meal and snack options.  I do nothing creative, aspirational, or life giving. I carry on with no sense of agency or hope.  My 11 plus years in recovery have been dedicated entirely to refining my responses to pain—the pain which I have been told is either imagined, self inflicted, or well earned—each of which leaves me alone and in despair.  Maybe if I reach next level recovery, it will be focused more on thriving than survival.    Feeling forever tethered to a person who behaves as an enemy, when displeased, feels both depleting and defeating, though….and so so familiar(like of the family).

I have not yet landed in that elusive spot between giving up and trying too hard.  I think that may be known as healthy striving.  And, I continue to find myself resigned and apathetic OR trying too hard….but mostly the apathy.  Like 96.9% apathy(outside of work). Either way, I am neither healthy nor striving.

Though I lacked the wisdom and maturity to see and articulate this, prior to recovery; These were the goals of my first forty two years:

Be like them ( the people who misunderstand, invalidate, reject me- my truths, needs, preferences, feelings, desires):

Want what they want, like only what they like, feel as they feel and if I can’t actually do that, just fn pretend.

Mothers’ day, four, maybe five years ago was the last time I saw my mother and sister. I hate this fn day for so many reasons. Today, I have delivered my boys to a day of love and connection with trusted others- because I am too distraught to engage in “Happy Mothers Day” festivities. Today is one more day– to get through.

Randy Dean Ross Long Beach Monroe NC Catherine G Whitney Charlotte NC

We change when we choose the temporary pain of something different over the unrelenting pain of staying the same.

Why I Did IT

Why I Did IT

Why did I marry a man who made me feel unsafe, unlovable, unworthy of comfort or acknowledgment?  Because it was the kind of love I was raised on. The kind I knew.

I did not love the way he spoke to me, his looks, vibe, clothes, his chest or back hair, his white sneakers with jeans.  Mostly, the way I felt in his presence. And also: He was untraveled, unread, not college educated. He made less than me.  He lived in the back of a machine shop.  He was not eager to pay for our meals out or to engage in any conversation initiated by me. He openly did not like my dog.  His best friend was a clownish, kind hearted addict who had done time in prison, and who overwhelmed me.  His sisters (the two he worshipped) were cold and demeaning.

When I met him, I was thin and fit, playing beach volleyball every weekend and on all weeknights possible.  I owned my home.  Had good friends, work life, book club and a part time job at Starbucks just for fun.  After our first year together, I quit both jobs and volleyball because the constant fighting and crying left me unable to function.  I found temp work and slowly parted from friends because I was too mortified to be honest about my situation.

In our marriage, he took off professionally and began to make friends and more money. His life and ego grew while mine shrunk- day by day.

I did not legitimately desire marriage to him anymore than I wanted the divorce.  I just wanted everything to hurt less.  When he promised to never change, I filed for divorce.  I cried and apologized as I reported that my friend’s cousin would serve him papers the following day.  I told him we each deserve peace and that in the end maybe the divorce paper would not make us any more divorced than the marriage certificate had made us married.

After decades of weekend binge drinking, I stopped drinking altogether when we got “together”, because I realized that I was a blackout drinker and in my blackouts, I would say all of the things which I worked hard to not admit or say (like “I hate you and I feel crazy and sad beyond words, more so when I speak to you and spend time with you and am terrified that you will find out and then leave me”)….and then not remember saying the things.  I knew I felt like shit when I was with him.  I knew he thought more of himself than me and I tried mightily to agree with him so we could be on the same page.  It was all familiar. 

He was different though, from others I had dated, quieter, less fun and funny and emotional (I thought this was maybe the maturity which had been missing, but— it was emotional vacancy).  I hated everything about him except that he appeared to always keep it together (while I have always been emotionally sloppy af)—oh that must be the maturity thing.  I now recognize the neatly contained rage which I mistook for something other.  I also thought it might legitimize me within my family to have married someone morally and emotionally similar…..to them.  And because I was still immature and broken myself, I did not know what maturity was (I had not witnessed it nor had it modelled for me) and his presentation, to me looked like calm and mature. 

We agreed on one thing only “He was an asshole because I was crazy and a bitch”.  If only I could correct that about myself, we would be golden. I knowingly enterered into a loveless marriage because I hated myself, only slightly more than I hated him.

I do not suggest for one second I was a champ. I own that I clearly was a train wreck, because no sane healthy, mature person with an ounce of self love would have chosen as I did.

Nate Posthlewait Photo Text: Those who have harmed you...

The Non-Redeemable

As I watch and try to untangle and make sense of what is happening, I see how those who need to feel admired will frequently and relentlessly cast a person who fails to perform admiration, as being non-redeemable. Again and again, I see it. The person with the injured ego reponds with a campaign to dehumanize that person or group, apparently making it permissible to harm them–moral exclusion. The cycles and legacies of THIS trauma and mental abuse are haunting and I proudly disrupt THEM. My boys’ father is dedicated to doing to our son, as was done to two of his sisters and also me. I will not allow my boy to be reduced in this way, though. That is the difference. That is where the cycle has been broken. My son has a solid ally(several actually), people who support him and believe him and are deply interested when he expresses pain. Neither his aunts nor I had that. He will fare better, for this, and his children will (in the future, obvi), as well. His dad can feel right and mighty all he wants AND, if hurting our son in these traditional / learned ways feels right, deniable or dismissible by him, my son has enough self awareness and self esteem to know he does not earn, deserve, or imagine the pain of that…and also the option to keep a safe distance.

His father is increasingly frustrated by his inability to force our son to engage in chit chat or to pretend or just return. Having his own repeated efforts to bypass acknowledgement of the harm he did, knowingly and repeatedly, for months— denied, is causing observable resentment and frustration. I hate the situation, but I cannot help but celebrate the breaking of THIS cycle. Unfortunately, I am unable to spare our younger son who is being groomed as an ally and supporter for his father(over his brother- see the pattern?), desperate as ever to create the illusion of happiness and connection, all the while causing the exact opposite. It is no wonder he and my female sibling relate strongly—frustrated by those who love themselves more than they admire THEM and boldly dare to say NO.

What a fn mess. I do marvel, watching our older son say No, without volume or profanity or any level of reactivity. What a lil man. He has attempted to have a healing converstation which his father has refused, repeatedly, instead offering/ trying to demand our son return without assurance of something different and better. Literally de ja vu. I asked for an open conversation about what we could do to resolve issues, and it was regarded as a call to war. Threats and attacks on my lil family promptly followed and continued. I honestly cannot imagine what my sister had to say to cast me as so completely non-redeemable. I may never know.

Team Colors in full swing in our little mess of a family. Those who can do no wrong–and the rest of us.