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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.

I am sorry, I won't be spoken to that way. We can work to resolve this whenever you are ready and then maybe gather as a "family".

Clear Boundaries are not Grudges

Omg. I woke up thinking about exactly this. How holding a clear and healthy boundary, within my family of origin(and marriage) gets labelled “holding a grudge”. Hellooo ??? It’s not at all, magnanimous to be willing to move on from abuse by your own mouth or hand without willingness to acknowledge and amend. I can honestly say that in my entire family and marriage experience, not one conflict was ever openly engaged in a way that was mutually aimed at genuine peace, connection, resolution. The only explanation I find anywhere for a person to punish a plea for resolution is the narcissist personality disorder-which prohibits any sort of rigorous self reflection. The ego is so large and fragile and will crack if forced to consider any wrongness or fallibility and so they lash out–to punish and reduce those who challenge their sense of rightness. I continue to try to understand my part in this and I recognize beyond doubt, that I do not cause others to say or do bad things. I am just not that powerful. At my mother’s service, it was said a few times how “she never held a grudge”. She was quite good at pretending that hurtful things had not been said or done. It was the expectation that I do the same. That ability/value was not passed to me genetically, as it was my sister. We differ in this way. And my need to work together to heal and reconcile is labelled and judged as grudge holding. By refusing to gather with a person(or people) who feels free and right to verbally assault me publicly, privately, passively, and repeatedly is not a grudge. It is a fair and sane boundary. I presented my self a million ways to Tuesday, for healing and reconciliation. Requests denied. Repeatedly screwing someone over, while insisting you are free from bad feelings and would gladly welcome/allow them “back” into the fold (for more of the same) may not be a “grudge”, but, it is something foul. Is shunning grudge holding? Is triangulation grudge holding? I think that malevolent behaviors are in fact proof of grudge holding(just without the courage of transparency). Knowingly imposing harm, no matter how smiley while doing it, is egregious non-benevolence.??‍♀️ Yes, I cry, get angry, hurt and need to resolve conflict to reconcile, even and especially when I have a hand in it. This, this is maturity and mental wellness, according sources I trust. Ugh, Grief is messy. My boys asked how they could be so loved that destroying their mother and father co-parenting was called for, yet mentioning them by name at the service was not. The mixed messages continue, even from the grave. They also asked why only my sister was mentioned as caring for her in illness, we relocated cross country and showed up day after day and week after week to serve and love on her–until… Feels like shit, to share with my boys that the lack of mention could be for one of two reasons: Either, they were not thought of at all…or they were, and then were intentionally excluded. And much of the service was written/scripted by her, in advance. If she had wanted, she could have said one healing thing. In true Ghoneim fashion, she offered a passive middle finger which, I could only have imagined or earned. This brand of love is as unsafe as it is unwholesome.

Are You My Mother?

To state that my feelings about and reasons for attending yesterday’s service for my mother are messy and confusing, is an understatement. At this moment, this is what I am able to discern. I did not want my children paraded by and fawned over by people (who wish to claim them as family while shunning their mother) . The manners in which I was notified of both the death and the service, speak volumes to the collective statement of my “place”. I would not miss or avoid the service out of fear or shame. As, I feel neither. The heavily orchestrated gathering illuminated, beyond doubt, that I was not a part of, that I am not even a little included, welcome, or connected. No belonging. No business. The collective has spoken. I am grateful to have fully witnessed this, together, alongside my children, Favorite, and Sweet Greg. I have missed much of my life waiting and trying to be heard, understood, welcome, connected. In addition to losing decades to the grief and confusion which defined and consumed me, what hurts more; how that despair, longing, and obsession robbed/robs my boys of my full presence. As my sister spoke of Judith, I looked at Greg and said “Who is she even talking about?” He calmly and without delay squeezed my hand and whispered, “She is describing the mother she had”. That was IT. To hear that sentence is what I have always needed. Our realities differed, and mine has been regarded as wrong, punishable, invalid. I am grateful that my sons were able to more clearly witness the dedicated arrangement in which they are being required to force themselves to feel as if they belong and “fit”. Their father sat neither with us nor with the “family”. I wonder how he feels about his participation and contribution. They are definitely more his people than they are mine. He is easily charmed by shiny people and things. I am certain he glowed with pride over his affiliation with such an accomplished group of people. I am less easily impressed by things. My relationship with my ex, because of our children, is something that may mentally tether me to this. The boys and I will get counseling to manage the effects of parental alienation. I cannot spare them, but I can help them become informed and armed with the language to identify the things that, without help, would emotionally wound, and defy the articulation of young boys. NOTE: If we do not heal and fix what hurts us, we will seek, date, marry it. Hopefully, my ex is my final lesson on this. Abusers, enablers, and less enlightened people may pose the question “Well who is the common variable here, and therefore the problem?” Abuse is a cycle, a legacy. NOTE: If we grow up being treated as if we are worthy of and the cause for cruelty and banishment, we will seek relationships that affirm that. If we are raised to feel valued and connected, we will seek relationships that affirm that. Those become core guiding (beliefs) myths about connection and our “selves”. My sister and I lived two different experiences. My mother’s approval and endorsement of her, as clear evidence of fine mothering, connected my sister to the rest of the family. My mother’s experience with me was used to divide me from them. One of us got a bridge and one got a stonewall. On my less difficult days, I was sometimes treated kind of like the sick mangey dogs roaming the streets in South East Asia. I recall badly wanting to hold them tightly and whisper “it will be ok”. But I was afraid and that was a lie(it would never be ok), so I would pet them with a smooth stick or a piece of trash and offer them scraps of food. It made me feel both sad and like an asshole because I recognized that more was needed and deserved. A wise friend shared with me that “Difficult children are here to wake their parents. But your mother was not interested”. It is true, she showed reflexive aversion to or dismissal of anything/anyone which/whom was not emotionally simple and intellectually stimulating. I have been anything but those. Regarding the memorial service for my sister’s mother, I fared well, until reaching the parking lot where I was met with love and compassion by someone who could see. I crumbled. I am not sad for the loss of the mother who discarded me, repeatedly and then departed the world. I am grateful for her heroic financial rescue during my divorce. I thanked her for that in all of the ways possible, but never in the form of submission to people who righteously, and with her blessing, diminished me. Yesterday, that family at the service said good bye to my sister’s mother. They never even knew mine.

Our Mother Who Art in Heaven

Dear Mother, You must be pleased that I married someone emotionally and morally similar to you and to my sister? And equally contented that YOUR family shows unyielding loyalty to your will and way in the form of continued stonewalling. Rest in peace. Someone should. What was my crime again…Oh, I learned to say No to bullshit without screaming and swearing and I refused to actively engage in a war that you all insisted on and have the nerve to ask directly, repeatedly, and without shame why you all so readily hurt me? I know the answer now, because that is the best you can do. While you may have banished me, and that hurts like hell, probably forever…the truth is I do not belong with people capable of this. I am definitely not one of you. I am breaking the cycle, mourning the footing of the bill, by my children–for the continued and imposed spiritual and emotional sickness. Oh how I do miss the gorgeous 2500 miles between here and California but am eternally grateful that your physical illness and Randy’s desire to buy a home, brought us here. Even with the grief of your triangulation with the boys’ father, the pain you all bring, means little compared to the healing love of my sweet Greg and Favorite. I could not live without them. In a way, you and R are responsible for that also. So thanks! Always,

Social Media for Abuse Awareness

People say don’t use social media to post your personal problems. I use social media to post about abuse because it is a social problem. I am taking all necessary measures to protect and to heal myself from decades of abuse. Being shamed and silenced is secondary trauma, which typically yields more damage than the initial or continued abuse. There are two parts to every trauma, the initial trauma (what did or did not happen) and the secondary trauma of how that gets handled(or not handled). Each person who has known me, pre-recovery, has certainly, in some way been impacted by me, probably in ways that were disturbing or damaging. Hurt people hurt people. I learned what I lived and it was awful. I can see that. We each are in daily contact with someone who is suffering from some form of abuse, past or present. Just consider being a loving witness. Not to fix or gloss over, but to listen and be present. Hold space for healing. So many of you have done that for me this week. Thank you. Very Grateful. Just as rape is not always a bloody take down, in an alley by a man against a woman, and drug abuse and addiction don’t always look like track marks in an arm, a lost job, DUI, or a car wrapped around a tree, abuse of people does not always present with marks of observable physical violence. It is very disturbing that in our culture, it is more acceptable to impose abuse than it is to speak of it. I object to that. Speaking up is considered more of a transgression, a sign of non-forgiveness or mental instability–therefore making all claims inadmissible and unworthy of action or attention. I will continue posting, sharing, recovering and connecting with others who have the courage to do the work and to grow beyond.

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

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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.