Actual Photo of me

Hickeys and Large Pores

So, an Instagram Ad for a pore vacuum appeared in my feed…eeew gross, right?–What kind of dirty loser needs to vacuum their pores…only the most unfortunate individual, obvi. IG algorithm must have determined that I am the type of person who would use this— Ok, anyhow, I ordered the device and promptly got to working on my face, moments after its arrival. And apparently, if you linger too long in one spot, with the pore vacuum, capillaries will burst and telling hickey marks will be left.

My pre-recovery thinking would have me believing “serves me right” and “best to not tell anyone”– because only a gross person would have or need a pore vacuum and only the truest of fukkups would use it in such a way that hickies and bruises mark their face—-affirming it ALL. Recovery teaches me to feel shame– only for saying or doing knowingly harmful things. Recovery also gives me the gift of amends, when possible. For this though, no shame, no amends. Just a good laugh, a lighter hand, and a lower power mode on the pore vacuum.

I am happy to openly joke about my large dirt-filled pores, all the things I could store in them, and about my first attempt with the June Julien Black Head Remover Instrument–only 27$ on Amazon.com. (What a deal–You know you want one). I cannot recommend, at this time. My unvacuumed pores remain clogged and my facial hickies are slightly darker than the ones in my photo. Maybe I will post an IG story later. Like– an unboxing video/cautionary tale.

Yeah, I'm not going to do that.

Yeh- No

One of the most amazing aspects of life with Sweet Greg is our partnership as equals, our collaboration, working as a team, though often I attempt to be his boss, he will not allow me to strong arm him. I treasure his badass healthy boundaries; saying NO to me with grace and love–even when forced to say so, repeatedly.

Sweet Greg does not become mean or passive aggressive. I marvel and fawn each time. After four years it still holds its magic and seems possibly a little perverse how I adore him when he is saying no to me. It makes me feel safe. He says things like: No, Please don’t. I would rather not. I don’t like that. Please stop. He does not say yes or maybe when he means no. And he does not ignore or stonewall, hoping I will take a hint—because A) I won’t. And B) that is dishonest and shitty. When he uses sarcasm, it is funny for everyone – not diminishing. Sweet Greg is direct and loving, unfailingly so.

Together we work, sharing ideas and projects—not just meals, bills, unwanted sex, and responsibilities(as in my marriage). For me, working together is the hottest foreplay of all. Laughing, damage control, and trouble shooting from different angles—nothing makes me feel as close. Greg and I have totally different processes–and it is not a problem–except when his is wrong. Hahahaha.

My ex requested something of me this weekend. I needed to say no because it was not in the best interest of our sons. I wanted to explain why and typed out a few sentences before realizing, he is not interested in my thoughts, only my compliance and I felt a little assholey just saying: “No, not at this time”.

He is buying (not adopting or rescuing) a puppy knowing that the puppy (a baby dog) will be left alone 5 days a week for 10 hours/day. This to me, is as unsurprising as it is disturbing. Puppies, from what I understand should be alone for no more than 1 hour at a time for each month of their age.

Our sons suggested to him, to get two, so they don’t get lonely. He told them NO– he will not get two because then they will rely on each other and not just him. WTF? His most recent request to me: That our older son stay there at his house, all of the week days(by himself) so the puppy won’t be alone… So– split up our sons during the week – leaving each of our boys isolated. BUT–Since the Covid quarantine, our sons have begun to work and play together—as equals. I would like for this to continue, if only when they are here, since this is not a shared value.

If the boys’ father(or my sister) ever shows signs of treating me as equal or worthy of kindness, I would be happy to work together, to help– because I am home all of the days and the boys would love a dog over there too. The unrecovered part of me must resist the temptation to offer— thinking: cuz then maybe he would be nice-ish for a while, but f**k that- I now know better than to hustle for the possibility of kindness.

Who I am is always changing, not because I am being fake, but because I am always open to growth and transformation. Young Pueblo

How I Used To Be

For much of my life I treasured, even sought, the opportunity to align with one person (squee –closeness, right?)  against another for any reason at all– instant, cheap, and easy bond.  I had consistently witnessed how “Your enemy’s enemy is your friend”.  

I found it to be intoxicatingly powerful to collude, mock, gossip, undermine…and far better to be on the giving end of that business, than the receiving end.  Recovery relieves me from agreeing to be on either end of that. I have learned to say no, say nothing, walk away.  

In my family of origin there were four targets (sensitive and prone to observable struggle). I was the easiest by far. The youngest and most reactive and clearly void of a safe person/place on which to count. The other three were grateful, not to me— but for me. As I was the only thing standing between them and the cross-hairs. You’re welcome.

I now refuse relationships in which punishing others is an option, with the exception of my parental responsibility. We rely on natural consequences for the sake of moral development.  Dishonesty and Unkindness have naturally unfavorable repercussions, in our home.  The rule and standard is clear and consistent. And the consequences are predictable losses of privilege, never loss of connection, belonging, or love. 

My boys and I are examining and crushing the myth THAT: People may deserve or freely impose hardship, fear, shame– based on personal moods and desires. That shit stops here.

Rather than being guided by our broken models or even worse, our selfish wills and ever changing moods- we follow the static principles offered in any of the 12 Step Programs. We count on the 12 Steps to protect each of us from ourselves and the 12 Traditions to protect our groups from our selves.

We learn to work only on ourselves—not on others, though the desire is mighty.

You’ve Got to Be Carefully Taught

You’ve got to be taught, to hate and fear
You’ve got to be taught from year to year
It’s got to be drummed in your dear little ear
You’ve got to be carefully taught You’ve got to be taught, to be afraid
Of people whose eyes are oddly made
And people whose skin is a different shade
You’ve got to be carefully taught You’ve got to be taught before it’s too late
Before you are six or seven or eight
To hate all the people your relatives hate
You’ve got to be carefully taught
You’ve got to be carefully taught

Click to hear James Taylor sing this song from the movie South Pacific.

Who were your teachers?

the person who triggers you is teaching you. The Holistic Psychologist

Serves You Right

In my family of origin,  people seemed to get ranked by intellect and like mindedness (or different mindedness).  There were decent people(worthy of kindness and respect) — highly credentialed and like minded. And then everyone else: “morons and sons of bitches”—that is how people were frequently categorized.  Morons were people of non-superior intellect as well as anyone foolish enough to inconvenience us by being themselves rather than who we needed for them to be.  Sons of bitches were those who did and believed all of the wrong things.  Persecution of morons and sons of bitches was considered appropriate behavior. The consequence for being stupid or frustrating was imposed hardship and shame.  This is how to handle ’em, to teach them their lesson. We are, after all, only giving them what they deserve. Serves ’em right.

My mother was exceptionally bright and liberal but showed intolerance for those whose thoughts, preferences, and beliefs strayed too far from her own. …like a weird illusion of open mindedness.  She was definitely an outside the box thinker, but closed to and quickly agitated by those whose thinking opposed hers.  I see now, that outside the box and liberal does not necessarily equal open minded.

Ah, the recurring message: “You are either with me or against me.” Similar is acceptable and different/difficult is shameful and punishable.  The thing is, I was not similar to anyone, in or outside of our house.  It was painful to be always wondering:   Where do I belong?  To whom do I belong? Who am I like?

My mother was unable to relate to me. At all. Because I was a challenge for her, she needed for me to be wrong. If only I would have just chosen to be different, easy, similar. She needed for people (particularly my sister, her brother, and mother) to side with her – affirm that her struggle with me was proof of my willful defectiveness. Her family was happy to do this for her. That was their loyalty. This is the love on which I was raised. I am unlearning as quickly as I can. Glimpsing in myself traces of this brand of living and loving, remind me of all of the work I still get to do. Differentiating myself in these ways is the work of a lifetime. I believe, if she had the courage, my female sibling would have said directly to me “Fuck you for going off script. Who do you think you are? You will pay.”

In my spiritual striving, I continue to seek living in such a way that I and those around me are free to expand— never called to contract. Expansion is the most wholesome badassery— calling on strength, gentleness, courage, humility. All of which are relatively new to me.

Ted Bundy, So Sexy and Well put together, though. The world is full of well dressed monsters with friendly smiles.

Under The Influence

Most of us (if only a little) are impressed by fine clothes, cars, homes, overall attractiveness, and status.  -Totally normal to unconsciously attach meaning to what we see and to feel influenced by a desire for nice things.

When a person holds a position of trust or authority and/or appears well put together, we feel influenced, readily accepting their gossip information as truth and an adequate basis for judgment.  For example, there is an inherent assumption of credibility by children– for family, clergy, police, professors, doctors, teachers….Right? But wisdom suggests that as we mature, we become conscious of more valid criteria for trust. To rely primarily on outward presentation/image invites deception and manipulation.

If our beliefs about a person are based solely on what they show us or on hear-say, chances are good, that our assessments are inadequate and we lack the ability to effectively judge character.  We will be naive, shallow, and also weak in character.  We will come to rely on those, desperate to control who eagerly inform us as to who is good, bad, right, wrong, who and what we can and cannot like or love.

Because the first people to “love” me were not reliable sources of kindness, honesty, loyalty, or safety-  as an adult, I had to learn to identify people of trust and also to become a person of trust– I needed to be taught.   Status, clever wit, good looks, and possession of cool shit can no longer influence or distract me from what matters.

Recovery taught me to notice behavior patterns; to be mindful of those who act consistently with kindness and benevolence—or a lack of. We are what we do, not what we or others say.   Before recovery, I was stuck in vicious cycles and entanglements.  I played my part in these by doing what I knew. As a result of recovery, re-parenting myself, and removing myself, my life and relationships are now more virtuous than vicious. This became possible, I believe, purely as a result of my program teachings – where we learn to practice and prefer trust.

Ancestral trauma is trauma that is passed down to each generation and then re-enacted. The Holistic Psychologist

To Repair or Repaint

My life is filled with terrible choices, ugly truths, and failed relationships.  Those things do not define me and cannot be used to shame or diminish me.  Only through my courage to walk directly into my own story; my willingness to acknowledge the breakage and to do the work of repair, have I been made healthy and strong, fully able to live my own life.  Nothing, absolutely nothing, makes me feel more proud than my choice to recover and how far I have come.  

Is it even possible to emerge, grow, or heal from what you cannot acknowledge? What if I had allowed myself to be held in denial and pain—therefore presenting to my sons, the likelihood to do similarly or the same?    Recovery has been chaotic and messy, not unlike removal of a dying organ or limb, car restoration, or a home renovation— gutting a compromised foundation, rather than throwing on a coat of pretty paint(or polish). I feel both grateful and honored by this work and the scars– which tell the story of my recovery.

Only by looking deeply and directly into the darkest parts (probably about 86.7%) of my life, am I able to experience healing and fortification. I was collectively and consistently discouraged, shunned, admonished for my call to do so.  I see now, how my family of origin, and unsurprisingly the family of the man I chose to marry, require their brand of positivity as a term and condition of engagement.  “Do and say as we(The Royal WE) do– and smile so that we may allow you to stay.”

Is positivity really demonstrated by the arrangement of your face or by denying that a thing has made you feel broken, hurt, or insecure?  I do not think so.  Genuine Positivity, as I understand, is choosing to show up and to be kind, honest, and accepting of difficult truths.

Since we here, descend from long lines of infallible, almighty non-apologizers, our lil family is learning together, to acknowledge and amend when we have done harm/ broken trust. To me, breaking trust is what happens when a person’s words or behaviors communicate “I matter more than you”. In healthy wholesome relationships, nobody matters more and nobody matters less. With generational and ancestral trauma though, there is the precept that those with more power matter more. But what does that say about children and the vulnerable, in general? Because they have less agency and authority, they have less value? That is absolutely what it says. It demands that children STFU with their own unique needs, feelings, and truths, or go elsewhere. It is definitely a dynamic of “You are with us or against us.” Of course children long to be WITH their parents and family at large. But they also want to be seen, heard, safe, and understood– and deserve to be so. THIS stops with me.

What Susie says of Sally says more of Susie that of Sally.

Gossip Culture

Whoever gossips to you, will gossip about you.

Gossip is saying behind their back what you would not say to their face. Flattery is saying to their face what you would not say behind their back.

Gossip needn’t be false to be evil – there’s a lot of truth that shouldn’t be passed around.

Gossiping and lying go hand in hand.

****Leaking someone’s private details by beginning your share with “I am so concerned that…..” is dirty and unwholesome. Still gossip.

When I stop to consider the vast personal and private details I know of people in my family, with whom I have had no contact for decades, I cringe. I have ben privy to information I did not desire or pursue and have no business knowing– as a result of the gossip abounding in only a handful of interactions: People’s difficult unique children, failing marriages, addictions, drinking problems, depression, affairs, eating disorders, mental health issues, sexual orientation: complex matters worthy of respect and discretion. Sadly, in the instant, getting to hear those things made me feel included, safe, and as if for a moment, I was on the inside. I gladly received it all. Ew gross. It makes me feel dirty to know what I do because I did not shut it down, when I had not yet known better.

Gossip is a lack of integrity weakening families, friendships, and organizations. I think in many circles, gossip passes for normal.

To remain loyal to those not present demonstrates loyalty to those who are. By defending those who are absent, we retain the trust of those in attendance. It is not safe to be in the presence of a gossip. To not participate can make you a target.

I do sometimes call or text Favorite to say “I need to talk shit and behave like the spiritual skank I used to be, is that ok?” The answer is always a resounding yes. It does feel fun but I always am left with an emotional hangover. Often I try to tell myself I must share the things in order to help me process, but in truth, sometimes I just feel like being a gossipy asshole. I dislike myself when I engage this way. I only do the shit-talking with a trusted other who knows that I know better- and I declare my intent on the front end. Also, I tend to share things that are benign, frequently about people not known to or close to the person with whom I am sharing. It is gross behavior and the person most harmed by it is me. This is progress.

There is no safe way to remain in a relationship with a person who has no conscience.

If it hurts me, it is bad for me

Have you known a person who can not see or admit when they have done harm by their words, choices, or actions? They tend to apologize profusely for circumstantial things that are either benign or out of their control–but not for their actual choices.

The term Sociopath refers to a person without conscience. That seems a bit harsh as I do enjoy some people (but do not necessarily trust) who literally cannot acknowledge, apologize for, or correct harmful behaviors. I am not able to say for sure if they possess the ability to self reflect and to recognize where they have done harm and maybe feel too proud or scared to admit– OR if they literally believe in their own infallibility. To that, I cannot relate—at all: not, to pride or even a hint of infallibility. I do now understand that for someone like me- quick to take blame/responsibility, desperate to understand, evolve, grow, connect, and heal–that it is unwise and unsafe to be in relationships with the perpetually right. They need for me to be wrong so they can feel right. They prefer to win against me, than with me. And always always when shit is going down they insist that they are either a victim or a hero.

I am learning more quickly to identify and navigate carefully around the zero-sum, never wrong, perfectionist types in the world outside of my trusted relationships. Distance is key- because people without conscience don’t mind hurting others in order to appear right, to get what they want and feel that they deserve. I choose only people who do mind hurting others, who feel remorse and are willing to reflect and adjust, when they have done the very human thing of messing up.

So, I see the definition of sociopath tends to include the word anti-social. And I seem mostly to be familiar with the type who enjoys shallow socializing to exercise polite smiles and charm as proof of tidy goodness- void of mess, mistakes, big feelings and issues. Maybe the zero-sum, finger pointer, deflection is just straight up narcissism. There does seem to be some crossover. I dunno what it is. I do know for certain that it hurts me and is therefore bad for me. That is some blackbelt recovery right there: “If it hurts me, it is bad for me.”

How I wish I had the means to conduct an actual study to find the connection between being a narcissist/sociopath and addiction and eating disorders. Also the connection to being raised or deeply affected by a narcissist and the need to flip out or numb TF out to cope. I feel strongly the two are not unrelated.

When something feels off, it is. Quote by Abraham Hicks

Incongruous Behaviors

When possible, I now know to abstain from people whose words, actions, and proclaimed values are not aligned, those folks are not for me, even if we are married, have children, or are related by blood. This– is acceptance–acceptance of my needs and the choices of others. I do not have to reject them or myself. While I cannot change a person OR my needs, I have learned to practice boundaries which allow me to care for myself, through limited proximity. Unfortunately, I am not able to protect my sons as I am, myself.

Today, as work is slowed by Covid 19 quarantine, I am obsessing abut how my sons were hurt by the collusion of my female sibling and their father to gather without me, repeatedly–probably justified as having been done only for my mother. After her memorial service, my son asked: “If we were so important to your mom, why were we only barely mentioned once (in her very own and very long end of life monologue)”?

I have no decent answer. I tell them that they should never have been dragged into the mess. What was done to them was unwholesome, unfair, and unkind. I share that “how my family and your father do love is very confusing and different from the love that I understand and choose”. My hope is that they will elect to mimic more kind and wholesome examples of love, connection, and family.

My sons agree that is not possible to be loving (kind and fully honest) while also feeling entitled, trying to get even, be perceived as right, better than, or in charge. Domination and manipulation of people and their perceptions is unwholesome and unloving and seems inextricably linked to eggshell dynamics, estrangement, pain, and addiction(to all sorts of things).

Choosing benevolently can be difficult and does not always feel immediately good. However, doing the thing which is easy and feels at once satisfying is not an acceptable alternative. That momentary pleasure/relief is followed closely by insecurity, distrust of others, frustration— mental dis-ease. I speak from first and second hand experience. So odd to consider how politically correct actions are frequently lacking in full honesty, deadly, and cruel but legal and accepted by those who benefit. I have heard it said that anytime there is suffering, someone is profiting. Always. Hmmm