Poor Sally Draper

I recently began (binge(ofcourse)) watching Mad Men after having attempted before but never fully getting into it. In true addict fashion, I went from zero interest to obsession.  I admittedly do many things in this way, though I do not feel genuinely addicted to anything other than carbs. I am aware of my all-or-nothing way of attending to things. Shopping, eating, drinking, blogging, crafting, sex, TV, AND NEVER house cleaning or exercise…Ha!  I can officially identify two ways in which I may certainly claim likeness to Brene Brown: my pupu platter of addictive behaviors and the addiction to carbs.

Oh, so back to Mad Men:  I think I may be more clearly understanding how and why my grandmother, mother , and sister are as they are– The white knuckling insistence that everything must be fine and perfect OR else! I shared this insight with my spiritually elevated neighbor, who asked me if I might now find some compassion for each of them—for how terrified they are, every minute of every day.  I am struggling with that question and my gut response to being called to dig so deep.  I feel lacking in the bandwidth required to recover from and unlearn my entire childhood and feel anything unscary for those who collectively and individually decided it was ok to be unkind to me–and to now involve my ex husband and my children.  It is not wholesome.  I get that hurt people hurt people—until they fucken decide to stop.

For now, the best I can do is to seek a willingness to feel more than judgement for them AND an overwhelming urge to protect (or at least educate) my children from that dark, controlling, menacing AF Betty Draper energy.  We never pretend it is normal or healthy to remain close to those who feel right in diminishing others.  Ever.

I have mad compassion for all the little Sally Drapers out there who were and are punished and banished arbitrarily.  I was a lil tiny Sally Draper, Truth Seeker, just tyrnuh figure out how to be in the world–with a mother whom I did not readily suit or please….and with a grandmother and sister eagerly serving as enforcers of whatever TF it is called that was is being upheld.

Peggy Olson is officially my spirit animal.  She is wholesome badass 360.  Heroic and humble.  Strong and vulnerable.  Kind, honest, and direct.  Pure hearted!  Truth Speaker!  Who knew this series would be enlightening?  I can see how my Sally/Peggy needs interfered with people of Betty Draper Mindset.  I do not know what that is called….though it seems to resemble most clinical profiles for  narcissism and alcoholism. Apparently narcissistic triangulation is a thing if you google it, there is much about it.  Maybe you relate.

Recovery from Life

I struggle to relate to anyone asserting they have nothing to recover from. ? Every cell of my being tells me to beware of people claiming that.   Usually because they are unwilling to own their dis-ease and therefore likely to offload rather than heal it– and quick to judge and banish those honestly addressing struggle and pain. ⚠️I adore recovery and all people humble enough to do the work.  Spiritual recovery—we all lose parts of our spirits and have been injured by someone or something, in ways that we may not understand.  Recovery from low self-esteem, low self-worth, people-pleasing, depression, grief, ptsd, abuse, fear of scarcity, unhealthy coping skills, obsessions, sexual abuse, incest leading to addictions to drugs, sex, alcohol, shopping, exercising, eating, staying busy, being right or perfect—all of those “things” are responses to pain.  “Healthy striving is said to be diametrically opposing attempts at and need for  perfection, which is driven by fear, control, shame, and results in separation.  Those are all spiritual maladies for which their are spiritual solutions.”  When our focus is on how others perceive us, that is not mental or spiritual wellness, that is brokenness -which tells us look to others to see if we are ok.  Trying to guess how others will feel and respond to us can make us overwhelmed, anxious, and very controlling.  We are powerless over that.  And so long as we think and behave otherwise, we will have difficulty being our true selves and allowing others the same—the birthplace of eggshells.  The First Step in any of the fellowships teaches us that we are powerless over people, places and things.  And to live otherwise is unmanageability- in the form of tryyyyying to hard all of the time to be feel and make others feel what they do not.  It is true insanity.  Though many people dedicate a lifetime managing, controlling, and regulating others to avoid dealing with the truth of what they feel, what they have done, and what they do.  Below is an excerpt from one of my readers that feels especially relevant.  In program, seeking serenity has become my primary purpose, and my greatest miracle.  Knowing I need help and making myself available for guidance and change was the beginning of my recovery life.  Living in this way, being guided by a higher non-human power is the freedom, connection, and guidance I always needed but did not know.  So, for me it is a re-parenting of myself.  No longer controlled by my will or the will of another allows me to seek truth and serenity, to head directly into difficulty knowing that I am not alone and that I have tools and choices to help me navigate rather than avoid what must be dealt with. (more…)

A Friend of Bill’s

Before marriage, I was a great first date and interviewee, I could usually get a second interview, date, or job, regardless of whether I actually desired it for my self.  I was auditioning for parts, trying to get “chosen”, for and by people and things I often would not choose.  Possibly, a result of never having been chosen by my mother.

That was before my loveless marriage and divorce….when my  main objective was to just pretend I could give or be what was wanted and needed and be funny while doing so.  I thought that making myself usable might morph into being valuable or useful.  It did not. (more…)

Life on Life’s Terms

After reading a comment by Jessica on my previous post, I did some pen on paper writing about my sister.  Thank you, Jessica.  I concur, it is time for “the shift”.  The shit happened–so the shift can happen.  My sister happened– is happening– will continue to happen.  Because there is no solution to her, she is technically not a problem, so much as an unpleasant fact.  Problems have solutions.  Unpleasant facts are for accepting.  I want to live life on life’s terms; this is what spiritually mature people do.  As one who is striving in this way, with a long way to go, I must engage the practice of acceptance– that she is an unfortunate and imposing (oh wait, that is not wholesome)  term.

So, just for today, one day at a time is the only way I can survive, I will not detail her actions, assume to know her intentions, or outline the effects.  I have a higher power and– it is not how I feel about her…though I have surely allowed it control over much of my thinking.  Recovery teaches me, that I may not have control of my first thought, but I do have a choice(control) over my second thought.  I must choose recovery over anger.  Recovery does not waste energy and time rehashing or taking other people’s inventories.  That is not how or who I wish to be- and living that way does indeed come at the expense of living my best life; being fully present for myself and my children.  I want something better for us, all.  I want to match my intention with action.  To intentionally(shift) focus on my own healing, though often it seems hinged directly to some necessary transaction between us(my sister/mother((they are a single entity)) and myself) for which there really is no US.

Today, I choose more wholesome thinking and being and I will pray for the discipline to abandon old and sick urges to react and to retaliate.  I am an expert at trying, a total badass!  Thank you, Jessica!  You are WBA 100%.  Thank you for teaching me.   Motherhood and Recovery are my two greatest blessings.  I choose to focus on and enjoy my blessings….but just for today.

Loving Myself, Unapologetically, and Without Permission

After last week– which required two vet visits, paw infection, antibiotics and a cone(to scrape the freshly painted walls) for one of the dogs, two pediatric visits, one for bulging ear infection and the other a fractured wrist, a stomach bug, while in mid escrow on TWO homes, transitioning jobs and a super fucked up family arrangement in which my female sibling offers the option to betray me to my ex-husband, who for obvious and unspeakable reasons, seizes the opportunity, (more…)

The Shit Before the Shift

Waking each morning already engaged mentally in conversations with my mother pains me, unsure if we have ever really had an actual conversation, in which we were both fully present and engaged with each other. All of these mental dialogs (Me pawing again and still at my mommy for love) center around me trying to get seen, heard, validated, accepted, instead of silenced, dismissed or banished- always intense and strained and white knuckly, with the two of us in agreement on only one thing…I am and have always been the source of the “eggshells”, tension, misconduct, and harshness of those with whom she feels close.  My recovery illuminates for me, the untruth of this sentiment and I can no longer abide.  The shit has to happen before the shift can happen.  The fall before the rising.

What is also odd is that my father, who passed 30 years ago, rarely enters my mind.   I am touched occasionally by only shreds of distorted memories of fighting and weird little gifts and gestures, both of which meant the world to me in the moments in which those things bound us. What were we doing between the gifts and the fighting?

I wonder how much time is needed to grieve all that was and will never be. I wonder why I am the only one to fully experience the gravity of this….I guess it is my job to foot the bill for all the damage caused by my unfortunate existence. Actually, fuck that. I recently heard that the scapegoat is the one who cannot keep quiet and endure all of the brokenness in a system that demands you to keep quiet and endure. I am officially unapologetic for having held that role. Because of THIS, I get to live and parent differently from all of those with whom I am genetically linked who adhere to the codes of silence, blame, shame, triangulation. (more…)

We Don’t Have to Feel Starved

On Saturday before Braziilian Jiu-Jitsu Class, we stopped for Chick-Fil-A( a huge treat, right?). My older son took one bite and said “I don’t like it”. Will you please make me burgerS with avocado and tomato when we get home from class? And this is how it goes. I always offer my sons foods they like, maybe not their favorites or the thing they are currently in the mood for, but never “offer” the two choices of: NO food OR whatever I provide you, regardless of what feels palatable (and with a
generous serving of shame and guilt for what a pain in the ass you are)…no matter the inconvenience.   Sustained hunger, for us, creates difficult energy and unnecessary stress.  The boys had a playdate scheduled straight from BJJ. S2 was ready because he ate his Chick-fil-A. S1 returned home with me for burgers with avocados and tomatoes.  (Note:  I totally get that what tastes delicious on one day may turn my
stomach on a different day, makes no sense, and yet—it is true.)  Totally unreasonable things are often true!!! Have I mentioned my sister and my ex?  Ach!  Anyhoo,There is ALWAYS a third, often less convenient and totally doable way.  Anything for my boys, within reason.  Letting anyone of us become too hungry is guaranteed discord.  Who needs or wants that?  We can fight about so many other things, but not this.  I choose the relationship over being food boss. (more…)

Nope…I can’t

I cannot help but marvel as I observe so many people unable to give a clear and direct #NO I think the #fear #shame #guilt #aversion speak to the need to APPEAR ? easy going.  Keepin it chill– but #noresponse OR 4000 #excuses for why “probably(or even definitively)”  you cannot or will not do a thing, is #bullshit needless complexity.  I am good with No.  

And a solid “Nope” with an extra pop at the end really says it all.  (Nō“P” ) Those who cannot say no (even when it is 100% the only true answer) also do not tolerate it well.  So, #beware and #bereal.  Saying No is not mean.  Having boundaries and being direct is a time saver and shows respect, though possibly not reverence and submission as required by some. (clearing throat, not naming names or pointing to my #foo) #boundaries and #directCommunication are for
the #wholesome & #badass
But too much for others. #sayno#sayitwithlove

Victims of physical,emotional or sexual trauma will spend a life time learning how to say No without fear.  Perpetrators will find ways to circumvent No and any sort of clear boundaries….  whatever it takes to have what they feel entitled to.  I guess that is their journey.  Boundary having and respecting is for the wholesome and the badass and too much for others.

 

You Do Not Have to Stand for the Pledge

High profile people(athletes) taking a knee with hand over heart for the pledge and speaking truth to bullshit in peace and with love is breathtaking courage and faith.  The message of “I love my country and all of its people.  I believe in equality for all and that means taking a stand(knee) for those without a voice.”  That is the wholesome badassery that I live and strive for.  Of course this is uncomfortable for those who insist that loyalty is politically correct and willing to pretend everything is ok or ignore and remain silent to the fact that everything is not ok.  This is neither loyalty nor patriotism.  That is systemic fear and shame cloaked in righteousness.

In recovery, I am learning how to live responsibly, to stand up for myself and others with civility and without standing against others.  I am finding a voice to express my truth without screaming, (too much)profanity, or diminishing those with whom I disagree, no matter how offensive I find their behaviors.  I no longer have to resort to the legacy of those old ways.  Nor do I have to remain silent or enter into active denial about  behavior which is dehumanizing, belittling, shaming.  My recovery teaches me to change the things I can– and to accept and share about the process, including acceptance(meaning do not fight against or with) for the things I can neither change nor accept.  With program principles, everybody’s voice is invited, needed.  Nobody’s voice is more or less valued.  We enter from a position of “We will work on this until…We will keep having hard conversations, and listening to understand and seeking transformation if not resolution.”  The zero-sum game, my way or the highway, “You are with me or against me”–To that I consistently respond with “When you are ready to have a longer conversation, I am here, and willing.”  The dynamic in which the oppressor throws down the gauntlet  is intended to squelch dissent, open discussion, and problem solving through considering opposing views.

In that arrangement, even the truth does not matter.  The focus is on what one person thinks, claims, demands, not the facts or even a shared value.  Brené Brown discusses the use of FALSE DICHOTOMY for those seeking power and rightness:  Either you do and think this or you are _____________________.  This is meant to be intimidating, to even those who are not being targeted by playing on the fear of banishment, disconnection, and belonging and possibly becoming a target for the shaming and belittling.

Take a knee.  Take a stand.  But just remember, what you settle for is what you end up with.  So many Sunday church goers and pledge standers whose value for appearance is greater than their respect for character.   Political Correctness does not equal moral goodness.  My sister has been dishonest and dishonorable in her dealings with me since I was quite small. I honestly believe that she feels her greatest achievements are NOT BEING ME or like me and marrying UP.  I think she has become confused into thinking that by marrying a wholesome and upright man, a judge, that she is vested by proxy.  It does not work that way.

She wears all white, stands for the pledge and throws a nice dinner.  Those things are true.  What she has done to divide our family is also true.  I will not stand for that.  I cannot change that but I can share and heal through it and use it all as a cautionary tale for my sons.  I share the sentiments of WBA Viola Davis:   “I will not put what you say about me– on my load.”  I also will not pretend you did not say it.   “I will not be a mystery to my children.  They will know me.”  What you do to me and to them is a part of my story, mine to tell.  If you want a different ending, I am here to co-create WITH you.  Always.

I feel strongly about the facts of what has been expressed in no uncertain terms spoken and written(otherwise easily denied), and continues to happen at the expense of my boys.  And yet, I would listen to understand and find that third way.  The old me would just say Fuck you.  You are a bully.  Your white 365 apparel is as awkward as your interest in my ex.  My children do not like you and had to be forced to write the greetings and salutations of Dear and Love on recent thank you notes to you instead of the TO and From which they originally wrote.  They do not find this arrangement to be dear or loving.  Check yourself.

But I am in recovery now, so I will not say those things because they are shallow, petty, and reactive.  I am striving toward wholesome badassery. a work in progress.  I am not unaware of how the last paragraph may be lacking in wholesomeness.  I own my anger and my healing.  Healing is messy!

 

Sorry Not Sorry

Recovery has given me back to myself.  Trying to grow up among people grimly determined to erase me or have me be small and to show only certain parts of myself– on demand, was the ultimate identity theft.  As I learn better, I do better.  I am surely and infinitely sorry and amending damage I have done.

But I am not sorry for my existence and will not flex or deny my boundaries for those whose desire is to righteously diminish me, in the presence of my young sons, while creating tension between their father and me.  I am sorry  for them, and for my sons, that this is truly the best they can do and that– it is not nearly good enough or wholesome enough to be imposed on my children.  They are not here to pay the imposed debt of my existence and failure to manage appearances and resilience to treatment that would make most people physically and/or mentally ill.  Today, I re-commit to expansion–unapologetically.  In my FOO, they have not yet made the distinction between being displeasing and being downright damaging.  I own that I am displeasing and that it has never been my job to please.  It is not what I am here for.  At all.  I am here to serve, to love, to be honest, to parent my children and love my partner fiercely and with loyalty.  Thank you, Sweet Greg for being my courageous companion in expansion.  xo