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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.

Every Time I Judge

I used to have immense shame over how I struggled and how I felt, like I was embarrassed for my feelings. WTF? Difficult feelings were for judging not having or coping with. And I fruitlessly sought approval from the most emotionally vacant and disapproving. And, I too learned to become disapproving of myself and others, particularly those in struggle, having needs or ideas different from my own, so basically everybody. We judge when we are afraid. It is easier to look, point and judge than to look inward and ask, why does that make me so uncomfortable? By judging and disliking someone, is that proof of their badness and unlikability? No, it is evidence of an inability to be compassionate and loving. Behaviors can be bad. Choices can be bad. But people are not bad. Even assholes are just people who cannot yet see the changes they are being called to make. Is using the word asshole, a sign of judgment? Probably so. I am a work in progress. I do believe that some people are inherently broken and dark hearted and knowingly do harmful things in order to get ahead or to be right and lacking in the ability or will to self reflect and elevate their spiritual presence. I don’t judge them. I just give them a lot of space and send them light and love from over here, when I am feeling humble and generous. hahaha. Again, a work in progress. The struggle is real. Assholes are real. Feelings are real. Recovery is real—#odaat

Recovery Celebrations

I was alllwaaaays melting down-losing my shit. I had not learned healthy coping skills. For my first 40 years, secondary feelings about my feelings kicked my ass. In our home feelings were for losers, and for judging. —I felt shitty because life was painful and experiencing pain, duress, and discontent was treated harshly- generally shamed, punished, gossiped about, and banished. I was sad about feeling sad and scared I might get scared and tense about getting tense and fully ashamed of it all. Being name-called and demanded to lighten up OR snap out of it never seemed to do the trick. Now, I allow myself to have feelings without worrying about having them, and the difficult ones are shorter in duration. Recovery helps me to unlearn the myths of shame and unworthiness and fear of feelings, and the price for having them–disconnection (from those whom I was never authentically connected, anyway). Now I am mostly only afraid of being placed in proximity to those who righteously attempt to punish, judge, and challenge my emotional experiences. When given the choice, I only #gowherethelove is. Life feels more manageable and even enjoyable this way. Byeeeeee!

Best Days of Our Lives

Last night, Bryan Adams’ song “Best Days of Our Lives” played on the radio. For a moment I felt nostalgic, reminded of senior year, summer in particular where we were very actively drinking and chasing boys and good feelings. Then, I remembered, that I was fucken terrified and miserable and always in one of three ways: about to lose my shit for reasons, of which, even I was not certain losing my shit, for reasons, of which, even I was not certain hiding humiliated, because I had lost my shit, for reasons, of which, even I was not certain I recognize now that I suffer severe anxiety which was not well tolerated in my family and which made me an easy target for the intolerant rage that pulsed through our “home”. Being targeted rather than comforted caused me despair/depression in addition to heightening my troublesome anxiety. I was depressed about being anxious and anxious about being depressed and never unaware of the price I would pay when I could not be bullied or shamed out of it. The best days of my life- I must believe are ahead of me. If no, shoot me now–a request to which my family would eagerly respond(but only cuz I asked). But seriously, I think the best days of my life were 3 years ago, when my boys and I moved cross country to be present and to serve my ailing mother, moving here while we were still not speaking- totally willing to show TF up and do as needed. Being of service to her felt right. When my ex-husband followed a few months later and we began working together as strongly dedicated CO-parents, a fixed family, more than a broken family, I was thrilled. From having an alarm installed to keep him out, to offering him keys to use my condo as needed, was an immense step for us. Our marriage was troubled from the start. Our divorce was hell —and here we were. Miracles. Sharing responsibilities, expenses, and even meals. Those were the best days of my life. My boys were over the moon with the new collaborative forces. Relocating cross country: 1) to support my mother and 2) so that my ex could afford to purchase a home was the most wholesome badass move of my life. Spiritually driven choices. Having the courage to plan a move cross country(to the land I fled and swore to never return) with my ex, to be near the two women(with whom I was not on speaking terms) who terrified me more than any other humans, is nothing short of God’s grace. My sister set into action a plan which desecrated that. Initially, this caused me to feel unlovable, unworthy, and disgraced, one more time. I totally lost my shit–again. But then, I knew. And I realized, that her behaviors cannot disgrace me. Her behaviors, in no way, speak to the quality of my character. They certainly affect me and have hurt my children. I fully can acknowledge that but will not take responsibility for what she DID and SAID repeatedly. (Seemingly random non-sequitur paragraph) My aunt emailed recently, three times in one day asking to know how I am doing. I feel stronger and more sane, less like losing my shit from that free floating anxiety I feel anytime I engage “them”. But it felt wrong to not respond. I thanked her for thinking of me and told her all the ways we were thriving as a family, including and especially, the currently restored collaborative efforts in coparenting with the boys’ father. Then, crickets, not a peep since. That shit right there, makes me feel crazy AF. Similarly, in January, she asked to meet for brunch and said she wanted to see me and when I apologized for being unable, I did not hear again from her until this most recent email. Against the advice of trusted others, I responded and am guilty of expectation of something different. Is that hope or foolishness or just the broken wanting parts of me that have not fully accepted what it has always meant for me trying to live, as a part of this “family”?(This paragraph seems random but it is not, to me) Lat night, I was reflecting how one of my sister’s favorite things to say when she is angry at me, is “It is not always about you”. To hear this makes me feel foolish and shameful. Of course it is not always about me. But when you suddenly stop responding to me as if I have not spoken or that I do not exist. I take that shit personally.. But you know what, you are right—that is not about me. That is about her way of dealing with whatever it is she has going on in her head. Now, as I reflect back, I see how I was blamed for the unfortunate feelings and behaviors of those around me. So other people’s emotional unavailability and harshness is about me, but my unique needs for food, space, or sleep, my birthday and Christmas gifts and food offerings appear to have little to do with me. I still cannot make sense of this. I cannot accept it–in that I choose now to NOT submit myself for it. I cannot change it– so– all that is left to do is to give my self the necessary space from it. Grieving is where I am currently, in my state of recovery. Grieving for the little Magda Gee that tried to cope in an unmanageable and sick system. Confused and with no healthy coping skills or solid ground to stand on. Grieving that the best days of my life came in my late 40s and were righteously snatched. Placing my ex husband in a situation to choose between my estranged family and me is fucked up. He is broken and lonely and will always have residual anger for me. Placing our small boys in the center of this divisive and

Shame on Who(or whom)?

You know, as I reflect back on my first 30 years, I no longer feel overtaken by shame. Shame for immense & unspeakable pain and my inability to manage myself with it and to get a hold of it, to address it, end or resolve it, or at the very least hide it. I do not feel shame for any of that. I feel tremendous sadness for the little girl and young woman who felt disconnected, unworthy and alone from her earliest moments. I am sorry to the people who were harmed by her inability to see the world and herself differently from how she was raised to see. We are taught by the adults in our lives, how to perceive & define the world and ourselves. … I failed to identify ways to engage a peaceful,secure, and trusting existence. Panic and shame were my constant companions. That is tragic for me, not shameful. Even the shitty coping that lasted into my 30s—Black-out drinking, drugs, food, men, shopping, sleeping—looking back, I feel only grief and compassion. When I knew better, I did better. Shame comes when I have used a damaging word or behavior, before amends can be made. I can honestly say that in my last 15 years, I have done nothing for which I feel continued shame. I am divorced, estranged from my family, and at times am harsh, angry, uncooperative, and sharp tongued. So, and? I repeatedly fail to please some and that is A-Okay. I will say this forever: “My job is not to please others.” Other people’s approval does not dictate my worthiness of love or dignity. My mother choosing my sister over me hurts like hell, but why would I feel shame for another person’s choice? I do not. Today, separate and away from them, I live a life with faith, direction, connection, and intention. I change the things I can, accept the things I must, and walk TF away from that and those which diminish me. I work hard, take good care of my children, am a (sometimes great) partner to sweet Greg while living my truth with integrity. My words and actions now line up—always— no matter with whom I am speaking and who may hear or see. Transparency. Alignment of my words, values, and actions. These things build in me, the opposite of shame; self worth and self esteem. One day at a time, I am unlearning #allofthestuff ! What I now know beyond certainty, is that I might die from shame if it were I who had behaved, spoken, and written as my sister has done. The damage she unleashed is as horrifying as undeniable. Her involvement of our children and my ex is a disaster. And- she is a woman of nearly 60. I was assholing deep into my 30s. Then, I became a mom, found a program to reparent myself: learning to take my own inventory (and not other people’s-uh oh). Oh well, I am recovering not recoverED and I do possibly enjoy taking her juicy inventory….but seriously. Thank gawd that I understand her mess is not mine. For now, my most unfortunate behavior is old, dusty, and amended where possible. I am a work in progress. Without recovery, I would be owning all of the shame for these circumstances and conditions–I would be telling myself that I have either caused or imagined and definitely deserve the pain and shame of another person’s choices. That is one of the greatest lies and myths of the dis-eased family. The scapegoat– the key symptom of a family with issues. Even being scapegoated doesn’t shame me, it illuminates how some people and places are safer for me/us than others.

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.