I am sorry that…

You never apologized for hurting me but I apologized 12 times for how I handled that pain. That is how I was raised…apologizing for causing other people’s unfortunate behaviors, because I made them act badly, and then apologizing for (reacting)handling myself poorly. Fuck that. I am not sorry for not knowing how to be a better abuse getter. I am sorry only that it took me until age 40 to recognize what is and is not abusive, what is and is not loving and what is and is not my responsibility. I am sorry for the wreckage of not knowing what I did not know about healthy connections and behaviors. I am beyond grateful to get to #breakthecycle Equally grateful that my sister OPENLY and repeatedly said and did the most undeniably hateful and divisive things to me(MY family) —-so that it could finally be illuminated what life as her younger sister has been like. She cooked her own goose and recovery taught me to step back and watch…to keep safe and not own what is not mine and to refuse to deny what is. I finally know what to do when people are abusive. And I know that fighting fire with fire just makes more fire. #NOCONTACT hurts much less than the constant burn of that dynamic. My sister would figuratively set me on fire ?while my mother would nod approvingly and enjoy the warmth.

PS–anytime a person fauxpologizes to you with a statement beginning like this:  “I am sorry that you feel….”  Walk TF away.

Genuine apologies and amends are the most wholesome, humble, badass things a person can do.    It is too much for some, though.

Thank You for Teaching Me

And so I rise from godless, shame-filled decades of anger and despair as I learn and recover from the traumatic effects of the covert abuse dynamics. I am developing faith in my potential to thrive—not just to survive what it means to live within my own skin and mind.

The cunning and psychopathic game of golden child v. scapegoat is devastating, mostly to the scape goat, though the the designated Golden One will insist they are the victim, because on the surface, it can appear that way.  The abuse is subtle and calculated, but the reactions tend to be overt and hysterical for apparently no reason.  Golden (favored) One comes to believe in their own impeccability because by comparison, they are clearly the good one in this zero-sum game.  Seriously, it as if her goodness existed only in the presence of my “badness”. One winner, one loser.

Reporting recent and finally observable actions and written words— (Golden One got sloppy, imposing visibly harmful and hostile initiatives when I refused to engage as I had historically.  She had nothing to work with but her own rage)—I detail the behaviors to support “precious others”–to share with them what they cannot yet see or say for themselves. Sharing allows for the shedding of shame and myths of unworthiness.  Being treated poorly and handling it even more poorly SUCK.  I was never a good abuse getter( I was good at earning it apparently, but not responding to it in ways that were not diminishing to myself and others). I own that!  Total Fail.

Recovery offers me choices (boundaries) I could not have recognized as a child and then a disturbed young adult.  It was news to me to learn that– I am not required to show up for what feels abusive…and when threatened, I am allowed to detach and disengage. There is the claim that my declining of invitations to pretend abusive things are not said and done—equals me abandoning them, while at the same time they smugly need to believe they discarded me and pride themselves on their generous and benevolent declaration that “She is welcome to join anytime”  Yeh, no.  Not available for that anymore.

Learning and changing are uncomfortable.  Remaining in a non-wholesome-love- arrangement makes me feel unstable, unable to cope and thrive.  Why would I choose that?

I am proud of the woman I am becoming and what they taught me. I am a #workinprogress not a #historicalrevisionist as they like to say. I was there. I know my experience.  Anyone compelled to debate or judge that gets all the space they need to do so.  Join me for healing or we part ways.  Either way, thank you for teaching me.  I rise.

The Legacy of Rage

I contemplated deleting my last post because of all of the evidence of my anger–having difficult feelings is proof of defectiveness in my FOO, and cause for dismissal or debate.  In my family of origin, I was the feeler, the over feeler, the overly sensitive one.  Unable to mask or deny pain, anger, joy, confusion.  I was not shown or taught to effectively manage my emotions in healthy ways.  In recovery, I have learned that we cannot selectively numb feelings.  Efforts to numb pain also block other feelings like joy and peace.  So, I have all of these intense emotions, all of the feels, and I am trying to learn how to feel them AND not be
controlled by them.  I am not ashamed of experiencing anger.  Though my sometimes reactive behaviors do not elevate my self esteem.  What does elevate it, is the practice of reflecting on it and being willing to own and amend what I can.   My diminishing words & behavior are a reaction–a

reflection of what is going on inside me in that moment, usually fear can be found at the root.  Deep sigh. (more…)

Serves You Right

I was raised on this line…frequently when I reported something personally difficult, unpleasant, or painful: physically or emotionally, I was told “serves you right”.  The alternative response- a debate aimed at making me believe that I was imagining or misunderstanding my feelings and reality.  The comfort was, I also heard they S.Y.R -message directed at all unfortunates in the world  “serves them right”  –clearly natural consequences for being asshole enough to voice that you might think, want, or feel differently from how my “family” did.  So in this way only, I was not unique or alone. And so, I too hated all of them along side my family, and for obvious reasons, this made me lonelier and more terrified of life and people. Shared judgment and hate don’t make for a solid foundation of lasting and meaningful connection.  It was not a hopeful point of departure.

I still hear the haunting message “Serves you right” and feel shame for things that would not cause shame for emotionally secure people, raised with a healthy senses of self, security, belonging, and boundaries. (more…)

Parenting and Power Struggles

Just SwinginMy parenting game is NOT on point these days. Quick to jump in the ring with my son…I am not so unlike that defeated, blood and sweat covered boxer just swingin’ and hopin’ to connect. Neither dignity nor peace have been won in this way. Shit shit shit—healthy engagement has not been modeled for me and it is unnatural and hard AF. (more…)

Food and Truth-In Abundance

The night seemed long. Wilbur’s stomach was empty and his mind was full. And when your stomach is empty and your mind is full, it’s always hard to sleep.

FOOD & TRUTH–Two things I was starved and desperate for, much of my life. Naturally, I developed food and trust issues which manifested in some pretty destructive ways.   Living in a perpetual state of fear, uncertainty, and hunger will drive some very desperate thinking. Being frightened and hungry also made it difficult to fully get adequate rest. Like Winnie the Pooh says  “going to bed with a full head and an empty stomach” is rough.  So then, throw sleep deprivation in the mix within a home, pulsing with unspeakable rage and shame—what a mess.  My inability to manage was viewed as the problem rather than the symptom– typical in these arrangements.  I was the canary, scapegoat, black sheep.  (I will add here, that truth can be subjective.  However, TRUST is what I offer my boys  truth and trust- stability.)  My experience, coming up in the world doubting myself and all others, especially those I counted on.  That was a difficult row to hoe.  The way we live and love, in our home, is rooted in immense trust in each other and faith in goodness.  This way of living, loving, and parenting is one of the many miracles of recovery. (more…)

We Can Do Hard Things

In just over a week, I embark on a new career opportunity, which I feel reluctant to share about. My boss, and dear friend of 24 years, says that she is happy for me– but the approaching transition has caused growing tension between us. Also, I do (more…)

One Goal 100% of the Time

To remain committed to my spiritual striving is my only Goal.  The singular challenge greater than the massive unlearning– is accepting the fact that my wellness and wholeness permanently divide me from those whom rely on me to be broken, confused, ashamed–with desires to contract/conform and to please greater thinly need to expand.  (more…)

Am I an Asshole-I Don’t Think So(anymore)

I hesitate to share when things are going well because if I recap more than a single minute, I easily get spun up in the axle –the entire history of it all, IT: being the “dynamic” of my (FOO)family of origin. I was, for a stretch, enjoying the perks of total estrangement from my FOO and all affiliated, with the exception of my ex and our children, when my mother’s sister emailed Wednesday with an invite for breakfast this weekend.   Both anxiety and grief were my immediate gut reactions. It is too a complex a relationship for each of us, full disclosure and authenticity are not well tolerated and our connection is not blessed by the others, which creates hardship for her.   I believe she and I are similar in unmentionable ways (sensitive and vocal about being sensitive which troublesome to those who are not(the rest of them)) and it is just too elephant in the roomish and eggshelly for me. I am no good at that and forcing it feels more difficult than wise. (more…)

Breakups

I intended to post about my holiday time with my sons and Sweet Greg, but this IG post led me down this well-beaten path.  I guess I am still deep into proving to myself that my choice to respect and preserve my serenity is sane and prudent.  And off I go, when will I finish proving?  I guess I will know when I know and I will be done when I am done–def the result of having been erased one too many times.

My sister’s hosting a gathering of my MOTHER, my ex, his sister, and my children made some shit pretty clear. But only to me, apparently. Before recovery, I would’ve thought this sort of thing illuminated my unworthiness. With recovery, I know better. Best part, I am accused of being the one who opted out of the family. I only opted out of continued betrayal, shaming and generally being spoken of and treated poorly.  Oh and name calling. Kthanksbye.   The continued gatherings without me which widened the gaps, confirm my suspicion that I am not, in their opinions, worthy of better treatment.  For me it confirmed that kind people do kind shit and others do other shit.  Their behavior makes their statement loud and clear.   My boundary around proximity to hurtful people also makes a statement-which I feel good about.  Hate the options, but it is what it is.  Fortunately, I am again managing to co-parent  with my ex for the sake of our children.  My relationship with him is not a choice but a fact.  I mean it is a choice, for my children, I choose to accept his bullshit and his genuine inability to form wholesome connections that benefit our children.  The triangulation with my sister makes my sons feel more divided than connected, but their father cannot concern himself with that.  And even if he can, fukkit, I must and will do right by our young sons.  One of us must model doing hard things.  We can do hard things.  Working shit out, being transparent, being direct and kind are things that must be modeled for them, as well as tolerating hurtful behavior only when required.  Doing hard things is wholesome and badass.  Doing shitty things is ……….for shitty thing doers.  Right?  

Me:  Please let’s work things out.

Her:  What things?

Me:  Lists things.

Her:  Why must you rehash and cause drama—invites my ex and his family to gather in her home.

Note:  My sister and my ex–Not based on historical relationship—this relationship built at my expense, originating post divorce.  This is vile? Right, in which communities and societies do people do this?  Oh, wait.  Think I know.  The family disease–the gift that keeps on giving.  The legacy of intergenerational abuse and mental health issues.   Who would not feel crazed and broken by this.  Oh again,  I know—bad abuse getters-totally owning it.  I suck as an abuse getter, though decades of practice should make that less true.  Fail!  

I am a work in progress, unlearning some very bad shit, as a descendant from long lines of other type–No direct communication. Ever. Just gossip,retaliation, and/or ghosting over displeasure. Elevating only those already lifted who might be useful to know.