Prayer Works!
I continue ending my days by saying thank you for the blessings in my life- for each new day between the most recent indignity from my family and me. It is 
a bitter-sweet reality to be free of the dynamic. Recovery changed me at a cellular level, allowing me to unlearn things; like believing it acceptable to attack people’s personalities or character when they disturb me. What a menacing way to be in the world. I recall how I would hear a fantastic insult and mentally bookmark it for future use-100% sure that attacking and diminishing were necessary and inevitable responses to disturbance. I would find someone to blame for my discontent, talk shit about, and go after them. I forgive myself that♥ . Now that I know better, I choose to do better and to avoid those behaving in this way. As an adult, I am free to choose space from the raging of others. As a mother, it is my responsibility to model practices of recovery and serenity.
I feel positive about my consistent and repeated efforts to meet for resolution….or intent to go NO Contact with my MCR’s, who are generous with damaging words and behaviors towards me. Not gonna lie, it stings that NO Contact is preferable to resolving. I cannot recall the last time I called someone a name or tried to diminish them. Ok–I can, but I don’t feel good about it and it was more than 2 years ago and I didn’t rape him for a shared meal. I was wrong in the way in which I said what I said. My attitude was nasty and righteous. It was a work situation in which I lost my temper and I knew better and made amends later. For decades, I honestly did NOT know another way. I had family, friends, boyfriends, and a husband who all do/did this. I cant change that, but I do now avoid it. This is about healing not forgiveness, a concept I am striving to understand more deeply. Forgiving doesn’t mean I am ready to have lunch with a person who I feel abused by. It just means the bitterness doesn’t own me, anymore. Here is a little from Anne Lamott on forgiveness. She is a spiritual gangsta. I savor her every word. (more…)
When a person touches us and it feels wrong, IT IS. 100% unacceptable– to be touched in ways that feel yucky, unwanted, unwholesome. IT happening, is the beginning. After the moment passes, the wreckage persists- governing all that will follow. My downward spiral continued until…. I realized I could no longer continue suffering, struggling, thinking, fearing as I had for decades. The 
incomprehensible demoralization. I became “inexplicably” hysterical while she remained artfully buttoned up. And from there it unfolded. The impossible girl who can’t cope and the seemingly unruffled older sister, going along as if her only real issue is her troubling sister. She scored a shit-load of traction off of my hysteria. In fact, it 
It’s not the most wonderful time of the year for everyone. For those of who’ve lost family members to death or estrangement, the holidays are difficult. To cope, some drop from bridges into oncoming traffic while others soldier through with as many drinks or slices of pie as it takes, any number of ways to numb, more socially acceptable than honestly addressing the feelings and behaviors which would be a step toward healing and lasting connection. I stand in solidarity with all who feel weepy, anxious, maybe even ashamed at this time of year. Disconnection, on days in which the calendar and social media are intended as proof of connection, is difficult. I ♥
Food Lion. I bought 5 of them, actually. The one shown in the trash bin was number 4 in my sequence of use. After using only 25% of the product, it stopped putting out(for no good reason…oh wait, is it broken?) I removed the top, and got a teeny tiny bit out. Feeling the weight of the remaining shaving cream–knowing it was in there, dammit, I wanted it, almost to the point of obsession. To avoid being late for appointments, I brought can #5 into play which functions just fine. But– when I am showering without time limitation, I sit on that shower bench and work haaard, holding the can every which way, blasting it with hot water, using a safety pin to clear the valve, turning the dispenser top. Total bullshit insanity. But wait– 4 out of 27 times I have managed to extract just enough to shave an armpit, re-enforcing for me that maaaaybe, if I try hard enough, I can get just a little bit of what I need. I know it is there. Aaah, the broken effing clock strikes again.