Purpose, Belonging, Direction

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 welcome, all the love I failed to feel or effectively communicate, all the love I wished I knew. The love for my sons which has beeen fierce, loyal, protective and still not enough to keep them close to me. While loving me may not be easy, it will also be a wildly unpopular choice for them to make in the midst of their “family”. The quote says this:  I must lose myself in action lest I wither in despair. I am painfully (always the pain) aware of my hunger for a meaningful pursuit and direction and in that pursuit and direction, I may find a sense of belonging and connection and purpose to help me sew together the hours each day between the things which must be done. In those times between the things I’m required to do. I feel lost and distraught and I lie down … run down the clock of my life because I don’t know what else to do. This is a difficult way to exist -it’s humiliating and demoralizing to feel lost untethered all of the time.  Still, as I have my entire life. I have wasted my life trying to become or at least appear different, to be not me, so that maybe just maybe I could be worthy of connection and belonging. It was a requirement I could not meet. It destroyed me, like literally decimated my ability to self actualize. In these last five months of more than a hundred medical visits and medication’s – being physically and mentally disabled – feeling both adrenalized and paralyzed simultaneously- around the clock.  I have wanted to be dead. It’s all I’ve wanted – to get gone. Because I don’t have a purpose – I don’t have a plan. I don’t have a direction and I certainly don’t have anything or anyone to which I feel I belong. I did used to belong to a gym and my job and now, not even those. And for some months, I felt I belonged to and with him. Hearing these songs today felt crushing – The Goodness of God by CeCe Winans and LeAnn Rimes – How do I and Leann Rimes- I Need You and then another song called Fighting For Me, by Riley Clemons. Each of these songs –  about durable, and undeniable love; to count on and fall into, lean into, crash into – I’ve not had that – not from my mother or my father or sister, any member of my family,  certainly not from the man I married. And I feel like I experience this love now -but it is a lie. I have a relationship and I like to call it complicated but actually it’s not complicated. He once claimed to desire a future with me and now he does not.   He is my everything. He has loved me more and better than anybody has ever loved me. He listens, he hears, he comforts, he celebrates, he cheers me. He holds and shelters me. And I can’t imagine living without this. But at the same time, I’ve lived my whole life without it. I need him in ways which are unreasonable- or are they? He’s a best friend, he is family, he is my lover. He is my everything, but it is no longer mutual and I continue to hold on tight and he continues to let me.  I am working with therapistS and trying to resolve/reconcile my reality – the pain and the grief of this, and all of the trauma which launched me into this exact space that I am in.  I am working hard to heal my body, my mind, my spirit. How could I have possibly learned the things about myself- like what I like or what I’m good at or what would satisfy, nurture and fuel me? I must dig out that information – excavate it from beneath decades of trauma, betrayal, abandonment, the grief of never having been well loved, and taking that quite personally.  And the lie of believing I was unworthy and incapable. And now, I have this one person whom I love desperately (of course) and rely on – as my everything and I can’t fault him for not wanting me or this forever.  I also do not want me or this forever.  Who would? I have a lot to recover from. Why must Earth life be so difficult? THIS, according to my therapeutic team is tied to my negative core beliefs. I see how that could be. What a cycle. When people in my life collectively decided I’m “bad,” interpreting my struggles as evidence of my wrongness, they see inflicting more hardship as a natural consequence—reflective only of their own ego-driven need to punish, rather than insecurity or retaliation. This fkn cycle, where I am scapegoated – trapped in a constant state of hurt and disempowerment. Feling affirmed in that each difficult and painful thing is proof only of my badness.

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Just Shut Up

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 wanted to hear was: “Even if I can’t fix your grief or stress, I will bear it with you. Please, tell me more.” Instead, I encountered harsh objections to my requests for shared language/understanding, shattering any hope for healing or a path forward. Curiosity—rooted in courage, humility, and vulnerability—allows us to engage respectfully with perspectives that differ from our own. Curiosity is a choice to explore the unknown. We cannot be both right and curious at the same time. It is painful that so many prioritize appearing (feeling) infallible and in charge at all costs. A shame that this can be mistaken for strength. A need to appear strong feels symptomatic of fragility. The strength which impresses me is rooted in humility, curiosity, courage.

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I’m not angry. I’m overwhelmed.

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 in what I was going through and how I was reacting. Being diminished instead of receiving support, made me feel threatened/ angry and led to anxiety about my discomfort and the consequences. My inability to alter my instinctive reactions intensified my sense of hopelessness. The persistent dread of not being able to hide my sensitivity only added pressure to the demand to “lighten up” and “calm down”, as everyone insisted I should. My consistent experience within my family and marriage would unfold in this way: Feel overstimulated, be judged and shunned, become fearful, distressed, then angry(and ultimately be crucified for large reactions to unmanageable stress) My unique wiring (hypersensitivity/hyperarousal) and past trauma leave me vulnerable and fragile in ways that others may not grasp. I often experience shame and anxiety over my unremitting discomfort- or as it was frequently referenced “my thin skin”, which is not an inaccurate descriptor, but also was not said with love. The stress of otherwise uneventful happenings can overpower my nervous system- like things which others don’t notice, can be crippling to me. Having come from a family whom regularly minimized and belittled me, feeling disregarded, violated, and on edge—became my default state. As a now sensory smart and trauma informed adult, I do not expect others to accommodate my heightened sensitivity- my best option has been to isolate myself – to shield my nervous system from the stressors of life on earth (with others). Below are examples of how I am easily toppled by technically un-threatening sensory stimuli, which go un-noticed by most(or can be ignored): The sound of my dog licking, a light on in the hall which shines into my room, a repetitive sound, a wrinkle in my (made) bed that I can see from my desk when I am working. A tag in my shirt.  A strong smell.  Feeling too warm.  A piece of food caught between my teeth.  Each of these can send me immediately into dysregulation—fight or flight energy. My nervous system demands that I do anything to make it stop- to end the sensation. None of these stimuli are harmful; they overtake me rather than harm or even annoy me. Sensory overload, paired with emotionally charged interactions, crushes me and calls for days of self-care, in solitude, to process, release the energy, and regain basic functionality. I am now learning to manage in a world which is simply too much for me. Always has been. I am discovering ways to nurture, soothe, and safeguard myself. Some may find this enlightening, even interesting: Sensory defensiveness is a condition where someone has an extreme reaction to certain sensations, such as touch, sound, smell, or taste. People with sensory defensiveness may avoid or minimize exposure to these sensations, and may experience anxiety, behavioral changes, or emotional distress. Having to rely on or keep close proximity to those who will judge and punish has proven damaging 100% of the time.

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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

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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.

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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

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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.

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Faith

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A little more than 3 years ago, Greg and I began getting to know each other.  A hectic...
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Why Lie
Alone in the car with my younger son, today, I pretended to take credit for saying...
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The words below are cherry picked straight from Jen Hatmaker’s post on IG today....
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What an interesting concept.  “DESERVE”.  I cannot help but cringe each...
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A program friend recently asked me if I out my sister  to punish her, and cautioned...
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About Wholesome Badass

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. For too long, I felt I was terminally unique(flawed) in this way. This is not true. Feeling deeply, willingness to share, and healing are hard work–Wholesome and 100% Badass.  This is the record of my work, my journey.

I laugh as deeply as I cry.  I love hard and without apology for my intensity.  It is who I am, not my favorite trait or biggest asset, but a part worthy of love, just the same.  I am learning to choose only those who choose me. This is my journey into self-love, learning to be ok when others disapprove or respond with righteous unkindness.

Musings

What I Learned.  ScapGoat. Toxic Family.  Recovery
Things Learned
So it seems like juuuuusssst maybe the key to living a peaceful and meaningful existence-...
Read More
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,...
Read More
Rachel Samson- @AustralianPsychologist Quote photo text.  The way we treat children will be carried with them for a lifetime
Circling The Drain
The message was consistent, from my family of origin and in my marriage–that...
Read More
Triggered AF wholesome badass Maggie Ghoneim
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Qualities which I treasure, not like I am compelled to get to know or call a person...
Read More
1 2 15 16 17 127 128

Self Love

Enforcing your boundaries is one of the most powerful acts of self love.  It also strengthens the right relationships and dissolves the wrong ones
Recovering From The Family Disease
Discovering that there is a name for this disease of perceptions and relationships,...
Read More
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Back to Step One
I have definitely lost touch with my higher power, indicated by my obsessive and...
Read More
LR Knost Instagram Post No More. That's Abuse, not peace
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Read More
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A Book Club Must Read
Just thrilled to have found and reposted this meme on instagram, if only—-for...
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1 14 15 16 17 18 71

Subscribe to Our Newsletter

Faith

How I Tricked Him Into Loving Me
A little more than 3 years ago, Greg and I began getting to know each other.  A hectic...
Read More
Why Lie
Alone in the car with my younger son, today, I pretended to take credit for saying...
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Daily, I feel tormented by the notion that if I were JUST  less sensitive and more...
Read More
1 2 15 16 17 45 46

About Wholesome Badass

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. For too long, I felt I was terminally unique(flawed) in this way. This is not true. Feeling deeply, willingness to share, and healing are hard work–Wholesome and 100% Badass.  This is the record of my work, my journey.

I laugh as deeply as I cry.  I love hard and without apology for my intensity.  It is who I am, not my favorite trait or biggest asset, but a part worthy of love, just the same.  I am learning to choose only those who choose me. This is my journey into self-love, learning to be ok when others disapprove or respond with righteous unkindness.

Recent Posts

Feeling Safe with Others
Purpose, Belonging, Direction
I read a quote today which...
IMG_5521
Just Shut Up
The messages from my family...
IMG_5692
I'm not angry. I'm overwhelmed.
It’s painful to recall being...
Unsafe Family System
Accuracy of Language
I am gradually acquiring better...
We'll figure it out together is a love language- Steve Maraboli Phototext
Rupture and Repair
The culmination of sleep deprivation,...
Stages of Trauma Healing
Breakdown or Breakthrough
Today, in rush hour traffic,...
Chronic paind and depression. The struggle is real. #lethargic
National Son’s Day
Ugh, another day to grieve. ...
what healing looks like- what being triggered looks like
Healing and Living
What my healing looks like: I...
IMG_5519
Truthful vs Honest
The irreparable damage of...
Narcissistic Abuse Toxic Positivity Fake Peace
Just Be Positive
I needed something from the...