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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.

The Things We are Learning

“My family upbringing lacked courtesy, respect, calm responses, and forgiveness. It has taken me years to learn how to pause, reflect and choose a more loving response. For years I allowed an (unwell person) alcoholic to use their weapons of anger and anxiety to provoke me. I didn’t understand the dance or merry go round.” (from my sponsor in today’s meeting…I adore her) To have the opportunity to mature emotionally and spiritually, and to heal, to unlearn, to create a better experience, is nothing short of a miracle. Learning to be gentle and to remember my intent, is hard as hell. I lack desire to win or silence another. I want to connect, serve, heal, and grow together with my people. But often, when I am overwhelmed, particularly in parenting, my natural reactive instinct is to attempt to win/dominate, in order to get a handle on things. I am not fixed, but I am so much better because of the shitty marriage which led me to the rooms of Al-Anon. Without it, I shudder to imagine the type of mother I might have been. There is a word for IT, a name for the cycle and legacy of twisted perceptions and troubled relationships. There are places to go (meetings) and people who want to hear, share, heal from the family disease of addiction. It affects everyone, even the pets. It is shameful and heart breaking to recall how I went from building my life around my angel of a dog “King Simon”, to, after marriage, wanting to have him put to sleep, when his needs (which had not changed) seemed too much for me. It required everything I had to manage life with a man, who was icy cold for days, sometimes weeks at a time, returning to warm and friendly without explanation. It was as if I were expected to respond like a faithful dog–eagerly awaiting, unquestioningly at the door, to be allowed to return, for touching, playing, and closeness. I gag to recall. I am not wired that way. I am a deep feeler, feeling it all, unable to limit myself to feel only the things he wanted me to feel. My inability to remain vulnerable under those conditions has been collectively labelled as “holding a grudge”. It is actually just being too confused by and scared of a person, to feel closeness. I recall regularly trying to explain that I can not be terrified, angry, ashamed and horny all at once. For me, those things do not happen together. This dynamic mimics my experience in my family–not the horny part, though there was unwanted touching and closeness. Gagging again. I had been groomed to believe that OUR only problems were my thin skin and my inability to just move on. My reaction of being hurt was the issue, not the harmful words, silences, behaviors. Recovery taught me that I was responding to pain and fear by feeling frightened and hurt. It is not my job to feel less and to pretend as if things are ok. For as long as I am willing to pretend things are ok, they will never be ok. Healing has divided me permanently from those who refuse change. Healthy boundaries have rendered it impossible for us to be together. Yes, it runs in the family, generations of unhealed pain. And it stops here. I will heal, so that I may not hand IT directly to my children. I see both in my ex’s family and my own, the ones who feel more and speak more get picked off. Those who feel less or learn to numb the pain and ignore, become favored and develop a sense of righteous entitlement. While the feelers, the canaries in the coal mines, are cast out. Of my two sons, I have a deep feeler, one who feels all of the things and one who appears to be affected only, by not getting his way. He is readily able to ignore, pretend, and move on as if a thing has never happened or mattered. I worry for them…coming from parents who have siblings who differ in these ways and who remain terminally estranged. We learn what we live. It is time to learn and live differently.

Say Yikes and Move On!

“I set boundaries today, in good faith, with anyone who disregards my thoughts or feelings. Disregarding and disrespecting are different from disagreeing.” (wise words of my sponsor, in today’s meeting) People pleaser, Pollyanna, Martyr (PPM) types behave as if openly and honestly disagreeing, is disrespectful and they tend to respond with entitled, but passive aggressive retalliation toward those whom they perceive as challenging or confronting. PPMs have not yet learned to accept differing needs and experiences. With them, honest communication is not possible. They simply do not know how. They tend to opt for a full on war (in which there are no rules) over an open dialog which requires fairness and honestly speaking and listening to challenging differences. For optional relationships, I have been advised to just say YIKES, and move on. For non-optional relationships, setting firm boundaries around my right and responsibility to be treated(and to behave) with dignity and kindness, has been an edifying experience, allowing the bully to cook their own goose(while sparing me from the intense and habitual desire to tell them about themselves, in ways which make me feel bad about myself). Hostile reactions to healthy boundaries, reveal their true nature, but only to those courageous enough to look closely. Have courage. Look closely. Choose genuine kindness and authenticity. Always. This is what I am learning and trying to model for my sons. One day at a time. Kindness, boundaries, healthy conflict resolution, detachment. All new and unfamiliar ways of being.

Educated by Tara Westover

I am on my second go-round of this riveting and relatable memoir, as it is generously providing words for thoughts which previously, I felt unable to put together for myself. To say that Tara Westover’s life was brutal, unbearable, would be an understatement. And still, I feel something not unlike coveting, for her. In addition to the abuse and dysfunction, the Westovers share a rich rural culture, deep religious conviction and practices, and the work of a family business– the family is bound by much more than coincidence of birth, a shared roof, and mental illness. Tara and two of her brothers experience trusting, protective, and lifelong closeness. Additionally, she is able to discover a joy and talent for singing, learning, reading, and writing, which allow her life to become defined by more than what happened within the family. I often feel as if my rejection and abuse define me, because I really do not recall much more– like it is all I know of myself and my family. Recovery teaches me that I am not what happened to me. I am what I am willing to learn from it. Below are a few, not necessarily, fluid or cohesive thoughts, motivated by the words of Tara Westover, some of which incorporate chunks of words taken directly from her. I came to see that the truth is this: It was not that I had done something wrong(although I have done many wrong things), so much as that I existed in the wrong way. There was something impure in the fact of my being. There is something different about me and that something, those differences are very bad, unforgivable–wrong at a cellular level. I am a bad daughter, a traitor, and my silence and compliance are the least I should offer– and I will do, not even that. Not knowing for certain what was true and real, still, I refused to give way to those whom claimed certainty, and presented themselves as the gatekeepers of truth and history. I often thought that shame and alienation were results or byproducts of the conflict, and now I see how those served as both the purpose and motivation. Cruel things said and done were aimed at exactly those outcomes and delivered fortification and pleasure to those whose camaraderie rested on the shared need to reduce me, to gain submission OR to make me pay. It was of comfort to believe that the defectiveness was exclusively mine, because this allowed me to hope that it was under my power to make US be healed. I wanted to believe that. The family system needed also for me to believe this. When I stopped believing and trying to do the impossible, when they could gain no traction from my reactions, it was OVER, in first my family and then my marriage. When my own mother consistently refused to listen to or hear me, it made me stop listening to and believing myself. This is surely a contributor to the feckless belligerence, the profanity and the volume, my desperate and reactive attempts to be acknowledged, listened to. Sadly, we know too well that this insane behavior is readily dismissed and steals the show. Leaving witnesses fixated on only the unfortunate reaction to the thing which everyone refuses to speak of. It both pains and liberates me to recognize that what a person knows and believes of a person, place, or thing, without first-hand experience, is limited exclusively to what they are told by others.

Unity v. Division

The messages of non-love which are cruelly and generously heaped upon my boys, by older members of their genetic families, require daily dispelling. The demystification is endless and I am grateful it is possible to speak openly with them about their having been made foot soldiers in a conflict, they are not yet old enough to comprehend. Fuck, I am 50 and still cannot get my head around it. Our daily reminders illuminate: -how partial truths and changing truths can make a person feel crazy and anxious. People attempting to dictate and manipulate our realities, make us doubt ourselves rather than those claiming a monopoly on the truth, which is subject to change based on their own moods and personal desires. -how in healthy families, healing the family is winning. Avoiding getting picked off, or being on the more favorable side of the cross hairs, is the exact opposite of a win for a healthy family. Hustling for favor, is a game common, to families riddled with addiction and mental illness. The sick system relies on fear, shame, guilt, winners, losers, scapegoating. In our home, we do not wish to beat or be beaten by each other. We value and prioritize unity. Triangulation and alienation leave parents and children painfully divided and siblings the same. Entire sections of family divided. Who wants that? Here is who… Spiritually and mentally unwell people, extracting reverence and victory, at all costs, in order to feel ok about themselves. They are the ones who want insist on this. Because, in our home, we are blessed with recovery, we are learning and practicing a better way. A third way… I will not sit back and watch as my children are taught that pitting themselves against each other, me, or another is a good way to be in the world. That is poison. (Winning is for games and wars.) That mentality stems from generations of addiction and perpetuates addictions of all sorts. We will not abide. My children have grandparents on all sides who will go/have gone to their graves while not speaking to their children and having their children not speaking to each other. I can think of little, that is more horrifying. I would prefer my boys align together against me, than ever, against each other. They belong to each other, not to US, their parents. They have been entrusted to us. I continue reminding them. “I see your pain and it is big. I also see your courage and it is bigger. Together, we can do hard things.” (from Glennon Doyle Melton) Just because a thing is hard, does not mean it is wrong. With trusted others, we do not fear loss of favor or connection. Ever. We are for each other. This is how we identify people as safe. Do we need to act a certain way to be treated well and to be safe and welcomed…if so, they are not safe. Those are not our people. Though, we may be forced to engage, at times (until we are old enough to make our own choices). The feeling of belonging, shared values, and a deep sense of empathy, will lead to unity and trust. The world has enough hate and division. We will not knowingly add to that. We will be intentional in our daily efforts to be more “for each other”, than against each other. We continue to work on ourselves and to accept those relationships which will grow with us or die.

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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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.