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Purpose, Belonging, Direction

I read a quote today which has me weeping. I’m weeping all the time anyway just about over every single song and everything reminding me of all the love I have missed, all the love that was not recieved or welcome, all the love I failed to feel or effectively communicate, all the love I wished I knew. The love for my sons which has beeen fierce, loyal, protective and still not enough to keep them close to me. While loving me may not be easy, it will also be a wildly unpopular choice for them to make in the midst of their “family”. The quote says this: I must lose myself in action lest I wither in despair. I am painfully (always the pain) aware of my hunger for a meaningful pursuit and direction and in that pursuit and direction, I may find a sense of belonging and connection and purpose to help me sew together the hours each day between the things which must be done. In those times between the things I’m required to do. I feel lost and distraught and I lie down … run down the clock of my life because I don’t know what else to do. This is a difficult way to exist -it’s humiliating and demoralizing to feel lost untethered all of the time. Still, as I have my entire life. I have wasted my life trying to become or at least appear different, to be not me, so that maybe just maybe I could be worthy of connection and belonging. It was a requirement I could not meet. It destroyed me, like literally decimated my ability to self actualize. In these last five months of more than a hundred medical visits and medication’s – being physically and mentally disabled – feeling both adrenalized and paralyzed simultaneously- around the clock. I have wanted to be dead. It’s all I’ve wanted – to get gone. Because I don’t have a purpose – I don’t have a plan. I don’t have a direction and I certainly don’t have anything or anyone to which I feel I belong. I did used to belong to a gym and my job and now, not even those. And for some months, I felt I belonged to and with him. Hearing these songs today felt crushing – The Goodness of God by CeCe Winans and LeAnn Rimes – How do I and Leann Rimes- I Need You and then another song called Fighting For Me, by Riley Clemons. Each of these songs – about durable, and undeniable love; to count on and fall into, lean into, crash into – I’ve not had that – not from my mother or my father or sister, any member of my family, certainly not from the man I married. And I feel like I experience this love now -but it is a lie. I have a relationship and I like to call it complicated but actually it’s not complicated. He once claimed to desire a future with me and now he does not. He is my everything. He has loved me more and better than anybody has ever loved me. He listens, he hears, he comforts, he celebrates, he cheers me. He holds and shelters me. And I can’t imagine living without this. But at the same time, I’ve lived my whole life without it. I need him in ways which are unreasonable- or are they? He’s a best friend, he is family, he is my lover. He is my everything, but it is no longer mutual and I continue to hold on tight and he continues to let me. I am working with therapistS and trying to resolve/reconcile my reality – the pain and the grief of this, and all of the trauma which launched me into this exact space that I am in. I am working hard to heal my body, my mind, my spirit. How could I have possibly learned the things about myself- like what I like or what I’m good at or what would satisfy, nurture and fuel me? I must dig out that information – excavate it from beneath decades of trauma, betrayal, abandonment, the grief of never having been well loved, and taking that quite personally. And the lie of believing I was unworthy and incapable. And now, I have this one person whom I love desperately (of course) and rely on – as my everything and I can’t fault him for not wanting me or this forever. I also do not want me or this forever. Who would? I have a lot to recover from. Why must Earth life be so difficult? THIS, according to my therapeutic team is tied to my negative core beliefs. I see how that could be. What a cycle. When people in my life collectively decided I’m “bad,” interpreting my struggles as evidence of my wrongness, they see inflicting more hardship as a natural consequence—reflective only of their own ego-driven need to punish, rather than insecurity or retaliation. This fkn cycle, where I am scapegoated – trapped in a constant state of hurt and disempowerment. Feling affirmed in that each difficult and painful thing is proof only of my badness.

Just Shut Up

The messages from my family of origin were unmistakable: “We will not show empathy or understanding for your perspective. In response to what we perceive as distortions, we will only offer defense, attack, blame, and relentless conflict.” All I ever wanted to hear was: “Even if I can’t fix your grief or stress, I will bear it with you. Please, tell me more.” Instead, I encountered harsh objections to my requests for shared language/understanding, shattering any hope for healing or a path forward. Curiosity—rooted in courage, humility, and vulnerability—allows us to engage respectfully with perspectives that differ from our own. Curiosity is a choice to explore the unknown. We cannot be both right and curious at the same time. It is painful that so many prioritize appearing (feeling) infallible and in charge at all costs. A shame that this can be mistaken for strength. A need to appear strong feels symptomatic of fragility. The strength which impresses me is rooted in humility, curiosity, courage.

I’m not angry. I’m overwhelmed.

It’s painful to recall being scolded in shaming ways during overwhelming moments: “Why are you so angry? Why are you so defensive? Why are you yelling?” I percieved but could not name the dissonance, the lack of understanding and interest in what I was going through and how I was reacting. Being diminished instead of receiving support, made me feel threatened/ angry and led to anxiety about my discomfort and the consequences. My inability to alter my instinctive reactions intensified my sense of hopelessness. The persistent dread of not being able to hide my sensitivity only added pressure to the demand to “lighten up” and “calm down”, as everyone insisted I should. My consistent experience within my family and marriage would unfold in this way: Feel overstimulated, be judged and shunned, become fearful, distressed, then angry(and ultimately be crucified for large reactions to unmanageable stress) My unique wiring (hypersensitivity/hyperarousal) and past trauma leave me vulnerable and fragile in ways that others may not grasp. I often experience shame and anxiety over my unremitting discomfort- or as it was frequently referenced “my thin skin”, which is not an inaccurate descriptor, but also was not said with love. The stress of otherwise uneventful happenings can overpower my nervous system- like things which others don’t notice, can be crippling to me. Having come from a family whom regularly minimized and belittled me, feeling disregarded, violated, and on edge—became my default state. As a now sensory smart and trauma informed adult, I do not expect others to accommodate my heightened sensitivity- my best option has been to isolate myself – to shield my nervous system from the stressors of life on earth (with others). Below are examples of how I am easily toppled by technically un-threatening sensory stimuli, which go un-noticed by most(or can be ignored): The sound of my dog licking, a light on in the hall which shines into my room, a repetitive sound, a wrinkle in my (made) bed that I can see from my desk when I am working. A tag in my shirt. A strong smell. Feeling too warm. A piece of food caught between my teeth. Each of these can send me immediately into dysregulation—fight or flight energy. My nervous system demands that I do anything to make it stop- to end the sensation. None of these stimuli are harmful; they overtake me rather than harm or even annoy me. Sensory overload, paired with emotionally charged interactions, crushes me and calls for days of self-care, in solitude, to process, release the energy, and regain basic functionality. I am now learning to manage in a world which is simply too much for me. Always has been. I am discovering ways to nurture, soothe, and safeguard myself. Some may find this enlightening, even interesting: Sensory defensiveness is a condition where someone has an extreme reaction to certain sensations, such as touch, sound, smell, or taste. People with sensory defensiveness may avoid or minimize exposure to these sensations, and may experience anxiety, behavioral changes, or emotional distress. Having to rely on or keep close proximity to those who will judge and punish has proven damaging 100% of the time.

Bye Mom

A little more than a month has passed and I have not cried for the absence of my mother. When she was alive, because of the fracture which seemed permanent, deliberate, and guaranteed by the collaboration of my ex and my sister, I could not stop myself from crying–deranged crying over my unacknowledged efforts to heal– together. My sibling (the word sister will not do) and my ex worked decisively toward this exact ending. I found this picture today while cleaning, taken from my mother’s home, on one of our last good visits, nearly 3 years ago. I perceived a subtle but palpable souring, that our days together were numbered, due to something more threatening than her age and physical ailments. I felt, in my bones, that the sickness which would do US the most damage, was not the cancer in her body. Upon holding this picture, I was able to experience a feeling of something non-angry, maybe fondness or compassion– and then a shit-ton of grief –of not having had a mother who chose healing and me. I may never fully understand or accept the way in which this family functions. I do embrace that I am different, in ways which now make me proud and hopeful. I accepted all of the risk and exposure of moving here and connecting my ex to THEM. I knew better, but hoped foolishly for the improbable. Their desire was never at all, similar to my own. Acceptance of this is hard AF and my grief is messy…as most of my feelings tend to be. I am not emotionally tidy or buttoned up. I was planning to post about Greg’s birthday dinner and gifts and how much we have enjoyed each other this week. But– this is where I am, for now. Bye mom. Thank you. I know you did your best with what you had and what you knew. So did I. I love you. I am sorry we were not able to connect in this life time. I never stopped trying. Ever.

A Litany for Survival

A Litany for Survival BY AUDRE LORDE (…) For those of uswho were imprinted with fearlike a faint line in the center of our foreheadslearning to be afraid with our mother’s milkfor by this weaponthis illusion of some safety to be foundthe heavy-footed hoped to silence usFor all of usthis instant and this triumphWe were never meant to survive. And when the sun rises we are afraidit might not remainwhen the sun sets we are afraidit might not rise in the morningwhen our stomachs are full we are afraidof indigestionwhen our stomachs are empty we are afraidwe may never eat againwhen we are loved we are afraidlove will vanishwhen we are alone we are afraidlove will never returnand when we speak we are afraidour words will not be heardnor welcomedbut when we are silentwe are still afraidSo it is better to speakrememberingwe were never meant to survive. Finding a voice somewhere between screaming and silence allows me to speak my truth and to be heard by those who are for me, and for those who need to hear. It will be offensive or irrelevant to those not for me. It is an effective way to sort…..For me OR not for me. I don’t get to choose, just to accept.I am hopeful that my boys will learn to live lives rooted in self worth and courage. We are finding our way, together, learning to share our truths, and find our people– one day at a time. Allowing people to sort themselves for us.

Making Amends

Step 8: Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all. Step 9: Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others. Each of the 12-Step Programs follows these two steps to recovery, verbatim. Only in my program of recovery(Al-Anon), was I taught when and how to appropriately amend. Also, apologizing with words is not the same as amending our behaviors and working to restore trust. To amend, means to intentionally change/stop hurtful behavior. Sometimes a relationship is damaged beyond repair. Still, we can continue to heal ourselves by changing our behaviors, (even with those with whom we no longer speak) regardless of how it is received or acknowledged on the other end. Spiritual striving calls us to improve upon ourselves for ourselves. Better action leads to better living. In my family experience and then my marriage, there is a perverse practice of dramatic and profuse apologizing for circumstantial things like running out of wine, over cooked meat, having only one kind of salad dressing, “the messy house”, street construction, a delayed flight, getting stuck in traffic, misplacing a thing….but not for acts and behaviors which are chosen. And then there are the apologies that begin with “I am sorry that you feel….” And, of course, the most soothing of all: “Ok, I am sorry, now can we just move on, already?” (aka: STFU) But apologies like: “I am sorry that I spoke in in a hurtful tone, said or did a hurtful thing. I won’t do that again. You don’t deserve that. I can do better.” These messages were never communicated, in any form, like not even on the radar. Is this because people are impeccable with their behavior? Or is it because I am unworthy? Or perhaps, because some people have not learned healthy accountability and responsibility? Recovery teaches me that amending originates from a place of humility and a genuine and deep desire to repair or heal, the damage caused by our choices. When you are not able to acknowledge or admit to the existence of damage or conflict, it would be impossible to own, heal, or even contemplate reparation efforts. I longed for the opportunity to heal with my mother. The initiatives by my sister and ex, which sustained my alienation, guaranteed the impossibility of that. It is difficult to live with. While my mother did not break the cycle in her lifetime. I believe that if she were able to understand what I seek for my children, she would approve. I see how healing is too disruptive for a family deeply entrenched, encamped in rightness, maintaining the status quo. Easier to collectively agree that only one person is broken and without that broken part of the family, everything is fine. One of the gifts of recovery, is that I now live in peace with my choices and my behaviors. I make choices that reflect my values not my feelings. I can feel like shit and still act right (morally and spiritually right). I will continue to report my journey, so that my boys might one day read and be reminded of how my words here, consistently match my actions and my life– in support of what I believe to be true and good about love, loyalty, kindness, connection, faith, family. For the record, wholesome=pure of heart(maybe broken and, still pure) badass=never giving up on making things better than they have been and could be without rigorous and intentional contrary action. I make no claim to being this way already, only to my daily commitment to becoming so. I am a work in progress.

Things Which Once Caused Me Shame

Buh-Bye Toxic Shame! Recovery for me has included unburdening of generations of the toxic shame imposed on me. I now have the tools to identify what is mine to amend and for what exactly what I am responsible. I can not and will no longer be sorry for: existing, feeling and thinking differently and deeply, speaking my truth, attempting to meet my own most basic needs or taking up space. As a girl and young adult, I was truly sorry, all of the time, for all of the things. My constant thoughts and words, attempts to seek forgiveness: “I am sorry I felt that way. I am sorry I reacted that way. I am sorry I made you feel that way. I am sorry I made you act that way. I am sorry for my skin color, my birth name, my skinniness, my height, foot size, my voracious appetite, limiting food preferences, my screaming angry family, the shape of my nose, my anxiety, my insecurity, my despair, the clothes I wear, my family’s religions and ethnicity, the weird foods served in our house, my mother’s appearance and personality, my father’s accent and Egyptianness.” I am done being sorry. I was ashamed of my shame. I felt good about one thing, my cat. I am definitely sorry for pain or trouble caused by me. When we know better, we do better. While I do affect how others feel about me, I repeat, as many times as I need to, I do not make another person lie, sneak, steal, gossip, cheat, do drugs, abuse, deceive. I am just not that powerful. You know what I am now sorry for, what I apologize for, what I am willing and able to amend? Those moments when I could have done better. I am sorry for things I have said and done that have caused harm(not upset or displeasure), but legitimate harm, knowingly or otherwise. I am sorry and work daily to be intentional with my words, attitudes and behaviors. This requires a lot of unlearning- dumping of learned behaviors and faulty beliefs, adopting a better way. I learned to exist in shame and that the burden of shame was the price to be paid to and extracted by those “claiming to be right—living in a state of rightness”. Sadly, I took up the practice of shaming and punishing others for disappointing or frustrating me. I think in the world of therapy, behaving this way, is referred to as offloading shame. Unhealed shame does not go away without intention and commitment to doing the work to heal. Shame is healed or passed on and perpetuated, manifesting in— Recklessness or over-controlling of people, food, drugs, sex, exercise, cleaning, shopping, people pleasing, striving for perfection, strained hot/cold relationships, bad marriages, unresolved conflict, egg shells forever… Striving for perfection is the opposite of healthy striving– rooted in shame, not self-love or self-esteem. To be armed with shame resilience, a healthy sense of self, knowing where you stop and others begin, with the appropriate sense of accountability, this is an advantage I can offer my children. They get to make mistakes, amend, and move on. They need not be perfect or sorry. And fuck anyone insisting otherwise. They will not be manipulated and diminished in these ways, without knowing what is happening. For now, they are small and being placed in conflict, just trynuh survive. But they, at least, know what IT is, that uneasy feeling in their guts telling them something is not right….and that something is NOT them and not their imagination. THIS is the fight of my life, to spare my children from the legacies of shame, addiction, and very sick entanglements. Oh and you know what else I am sorry for–for participating in my own abuse and neglect, for submitting myself to others who thought it ok. I will spend the rest of my days taking better care of me and walking TF away from anyone suggesting that I(or others) earn or deserve pain and fear, which they will righteously impose. Even as I stumble, on my way out the door, my head is high and my shoulders square. When you hit my boys or me with your shame issues and vibes, we are Returning To Sender. “I decided that the single most subversive, revolutionary thing I could do, was to show up for my own life and not be ashamed.” ~Anne Lamott

The intention for Wholesome Badass is to share my journey, my UN-learnings- openly, inviting community with Trusted Others who also are intensely feeling beings.

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Words to LIVE By

Who you spend your time with will have a great impact on what kind of life you live. Spend time with the right people.
— Joel Osteen (@JoelOsteen) November 19, 2016

Purpose, Belonging, Direction

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I'm not angry. I'm overwhelmed.

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Faith

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About Wholesome Badass

The intention for Wholesome Badass is to share my journey, my UN-learnings- openly, inviting community with Trusted Others who also are intensely feeling beings. For too long, I felt I was terminally unique(flawed) in this way. This is not true. Feeling deeply, willingness to share, and healing are hard work–Wholesome and 100% Badass. This is the record of my work, my journey.

I laugh as deeply as I cry. I love hard and without apology for my intensity. It is who I am, not my favorite trait or biggest asset, but a part worthy of love, just the same. I am learning to choose only those who choose me. This is my journey into self-love, learning to be ok when others disapprove or respond with righteous unkindness.