Greatest Achievement-hahaha

I trust him in the most deepest blood way and can count on him in all ways. He makes a space for me to feel my intense and full range of emotions-and lose my shit when that is what is needed. Then he reels me back in. We laugh big over the little things, especially ourselves. He is one #wholesomebadass motherfukkuh. #Strong #gentle #confident #humble #wise #unconditionallove #authenticity #acceptance

We say thank you and I am sorry without even thinking. We disagree regularly but need not fight, because we have faith and trust and value each other more than being right.  Authenticity and intimacy, emotional safety–these are miracles and great achievements.  Thank you, sweet Greg for luvvin me completely.  I love you!

Always,

♥M

Letter to Mother and Sister

I will assume your silence means you need more space at this time.  I look forward to a time where we may each communicate openly and kindly.  I would like to try, when we are all ready.  My willingness to heal and recover any level of trust and connection remains.  I can be patient and without being oblivious to the reality of the ticking clock and the passing days which feel daunting, and change nothing.
I hope you are all well and hope that I will be notified otherwise.
Always,
M(and the boys):  WE are here.
This is pretty standard content for my emails.  The standard response is silence or condemnation.  I send these emails to affirm for myself that if my mother passes without further or healed contact and connection with me, it is absolutely not due to a lack of effort or willingness from my end.  Acceptance.  Acceptance.  Acceptance.  My sister’s shaming character assassination, uncontested by cc-d  family members, in addition to  my ex’s family, following her dinner which was kept secret from me, is something I forgive but do not accept as something that is ok or deserved.  Neutrality at this point is not an option.  Any effort will either de-escalate or intensify the situation.  My mother is recovering from health issues at age 84 and I moved cross country 2 years ago to be here-for her.  I still want that, free from abuse and shaming.
Acceptance is for badasses and totally wholesome.  I re-commit by the minute to the acceptance of the fact that I am powerless to make things be different.  These are my most wholesome efforts.  It is my belief that what has passed between us demands an honest reckoning.  I will wait.  ♥

Tools for Life

Coming from a long lines of mental illness and untreated addiction, where every non-happy feeling was perceived as anger and responded to with anger, I picked up some unfortunate coping and operating styles.  This wall of tools is the perfect metaphor for the tools for life before and now, with recovery.  The left side needs little explanation.

The dustpan and brush, I need for for cleaning up little messes I make.  Tape for repairing things that are fixable.  Soft gloves, for handling of fragile or prickly things with care.  A measuring tape and timer to help me give space and time between an incident and my response.  Knee pads for the time I spend on my knees waiting and asking for guidance.   A flashlight for times when it feels dark for me or a trusted other.  A needle and thread for sewing back together those things which can be mended.  Love is always the answer.  Accepting my full range of emotions and developing healthy tools for coping are miracles of recovery.

Recovery tools are wholesome and 100%badass.  What are some of your metaphorical tools for life?

An Invitation to Heal-Repair or Release

I am slowly mining gems of peace from the work of reconciling and healing, I must do on my own.  According to Reverend Desmond Tutu; healing and reconciliation do not erase the reality of injuries that occur AND forgiveness is not pretending that what has indeed happened did not happen. “Healing does not draw a veil over the hurt.”   For a lifetime I have longed for honest reckoning– which consistently has been denied/attacked by those whom I relate to by virtue of birth….And no matter the diminishing words and behaviors, I remain willing to reconcile–with them.”

An invitation to forgive is an invitation to find healing and peace, not to forget or pretend.”  My invitation stands- and is as offensive to them today as it was 25 years ago and 2 years ago and 1 year ago.  I will pray for the willingness to remain open to the possibilities of healing in my mother’s lifetime with people who show no promise of being able to sustain a presence beyond celebrations and emergencies.  Shutting down would be much easier.

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Good Grief

I cannot help but feel charmed when I hear people in utter exasperation calmly say “Good Grief”.  It is so completely wholesome(benevolent) and old school.

While grief, may not be good, it is essential, and a natural part of life.  We all deserve to grieve and heal from heartbreak.  My sons’ deserve a healed and whole mother. As an adult with choices, recovery of my spirit takes priority over my seat at “the family table”.    My first choice is to recover with my family of origin.  The alternative is to recover on my own.  It has been collectively declared that “There is nothing to heal from, just move on, Already, goddammit”.  My sister’s locking onto my ex-husband(any excuse at all to fawn and connect(gag)) has troubled us as co-parents, as well as divided me from our confused and aging mother.  I have nearly quit judging that behavior, but still, I REFUSE to dine with abusers of my sons’ parents.  The idea of sharing a meal is sickening.  Our next genetic gathering will be for a death.  While the passing of any family member will be unfortunate, the death itself, will not erase or stop the damage.  I will pray for the grace to show up only as a mourner for the passing of whomever it is.  The service will not pose as a union or a re-union.  Just a memorial  for the deceased; a ceremony dedicated to those who need to grieve the passing of a loved one.  I respect and honor the need to grieve.   For me, it will be a day of exercising courage, humility, and compassion–100% wholesome and badass.

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The Menu-Life Choices

Like a child, I want to choose only from a menu of: fun, relaxing, and highly lucrative.  Regarding my family of origin, there is no action to take…no matter how differently I want for things to be. I will know in my core when the time is right to do something different. For today I will choose to detach with patience and faith that I cannot force people, places, and things to be different just by taking big action(reaction).  We always have choices, but sometimes the menu (our life circumstance) appears to offer equally displeasing options; like- pain or more pain.

With regards to my children and my Sweet Greg, I choose to be present, loving, and gentle with myself.  I want to be all that I can be for those who count on me and love me in ways that feel wholesome.  I choose sanity and kindness.  Those two things are totally badass!  So grateful that recovery has provided more expansive menu selections.

What will you choose today?

You Spot It–You Got It

You spot it, you got it….

I was thinking of how I am most irritated by subtle little behaviors in which I assume to know the motivation…so arrogant.   And the flip side of that coin is that I am deeply touched by small gestures and behaviors that I assume to know the motivation. The truth of this is, if I recognize a behavior as having meaning, it is because it is familiar and I relate, whether it is good or bad. When I see the good in people, that is the good in me that I am connecting with. When I judge people, that is my judgment for my own attitudes and behaviors that need work.

My sister, who is desperate to be in charge of my destiny, is always pointing out whom she believes to be gay, needing a man, angry, needy, or overly sensitive. She illuminates these things as if she is a brilliant soothsayer and well above being possessing any of those dreadful things.  I wonder if wearing all white every day and cringing at the idea of sex with your husband makes you feel as if you are a lady, full of grace.  I love wearing black and having sex with my boyfriend!!  what does that make me?  Self-actualization is my only real goal and so far, my greatest achievement.

I notice with her, that anytime she is preparing for a night out or an event, she sends me pics asking if she looks like a weird desperate dyke….no joke. I finally just reduced it to WDD. Now I suspect her greatest need is to appear normal, not needing, and straight. I love rolling up to dinners in a cammo jacket with greasy pixie and no make up to announce I am rockin’ the WDD. Though I am straight, I would, just to be subversive, be thrilled to announce that I was an unashamed lesbian. Anyway, You spot it, you got it—

House of Cards

My friend, my hero, my badass partner in recovery has shared how her sister was collectively, not only abused, but also blamed for bringing it on herself by being so difficult—by being who she was, wrong at a cellular level.  What my friend learned quite young; “If I want people to be kind to me and to be okay, I must be and do the opposite of my sister.”

My sister gained similar traction off my intense reactions and feelings, my sensitivity, and fierce need to express myself at all costs. I have now learned  to manage myself in ways that are more protective, particularly with those who choose shaming and blaming as a means to elevate and themselves and forge bonds.  Over re-acting to even the most foul advances cost me everything.

I think my sister panicked when I returned after 25 years, to help with my mother, now in possession of myself, my ex, my children and very firm boundaries, with the ability to resist baiting/ jumping into the ring to help her prove her rightness and betterness, with a dramatic or intense reaction.  If pushing off of those parts of who I was, is all she had to gain stature, I see why she feels unearthed and has become willing to say and do whatever it takes to cling to her title of ” better than me”, just by being not me.   Because, now, I am doing well, in spite of initiatives, that years ago would have made me crumble—after over reacting and getting judged and dismissed.

I think her fixation with my ex-husband, at my boys’ and my mother’s expense is the best she can do– and absolute proof only of her own sense of unworthiness. My sister has done the unthinkable to me and gotten away with it.  Again.  What if….just what if now, as a sane person, without drama shared the truth…of who she is and what she likes.  What then?  My recovery buddy also shared that similar things happened in her home.  Sharing is badass healing and 100% freeing.  I feel sadness for those who never get to experience  the magic of that sort of connection to God, themselves, and others.  They continue suffering and hurting others until they learn a better way.

Fools Rush In

Because my mother is physically and mentally unwell, 84, and in the hospital, I am feeling twisted up inside, as if I should DO something. There is nothing for me to do at this time. My efforts to heal and build trust or connection are either swatted away like a pesky gnat or they go unacknowledged.  I guess swats and dismissals are an improvement from being blasted with heavy artillery of character assasination and accusations of how I deserve abuse or am unworthy of kindness.  This is progress. (more…)

Painful Dynamics- Repair or Release

My mother is in the hospital today having cancerous masses removed.  My sister whom I have not spoken to since May emailed the information to me.  I responded with a “Thanks for the update”  and signed with the little red heart emoji and an “m”.  My gut response was to be cold but polite…but then I remembered, that is not who I am.  I am vulnerable and want something better in my mother’s lifetime for all of us.  I am not closed off, shut down or absent.  Just very clear about what hurts too much to engage in.  Vulnerability kicks ass.  They lack a desire to heal with me and yet I show up again and again.  “I am here, to heal with you, if you ever choose to do so.”  Vulnerability is where I live, anything else feels like death.  I am grateful for enough recovery to have congruity and consistency in all of my communication.  I expect nothing different from them.  At the end of the day, I sleep easier, knowing I offered, ad nauseum, to create something better and less destructive for us all.

As I see it, there are two sane choices–Repair or Release.  Repair is my first choice.  But so long as they opt for the hurtful workaround of seeing my sons, via collaboration and commune with my ex-husband, release may be our only option.  Family recovery matters to me more than my mother’s recovery from cancer.  I, of course, prefer both.  But if I had to choose, I would take a few connected months of loving each other, over years more of NOT–I mean love, the verb.