Writing about what happens when family relationships are pulled apart by loyalty, influence, distance, silence, and competing narratives. The grief of loving people who are still alive, the confusion of being shut out, and the reality of trying to live inside a relationship you no longer get to participate in.
If the opportunity to exchange goodbyes with my mother had been possible... I would have wept, thanked, apologized, forgiven--even if she remained silent and unreceptive. It could have been beautiful. There could have been healing. I can only imagine how that might have been for the two of us. Today (or tomorrow or the next day), I will write a letter to my mother, in which I will express my anger, sadness, grief, pain, gratitude, fear, longing, regret, resentment, and…
I am feeling agitated over how our new before and after school arrangement is no good for my sons. It is the consequence of my decision to no longer inconvenience my self, in service to their father, who knowingly and repeatedly diminishes the peace of our family—simply because he can. As if free-will is an achievement or a super power. The boys' father (BF) likes to assert how it is his right to spend time with whomever he chooses. I accept this as…
Is it working??
Just thrilled to have found and reposted this meme on instagram, if only----for one commentor's response: “Each time I try to appear normal, or pick up their energy thinking it’s mine... I get exhausted, ill, or totally screwed up. It’s a theatrical effort. We’re different.” ALSO--The facial expression on the guy in the image is funny AF-- and the genius creator of this meme is my new hero. My bar for heroism is still quite low. Remember, I am recovering…
My relationships before recovery were so distrusting and volatile, and could literally snap under the weight of even the slightest tension. It was not safe or accepted to openly experience difficult feelings. For someone like me, naturally high strung and an utter failure at pretending otherwise, this was terrifying, because the tension made me more tense. It was always the beginning of another unspeakable divide— resulting in hostile words or deadly and lasting silence. My tension was consistently identified as the cause. …
