Wholesome Badass

A Work in Progress — Healing from All the Things​

Hand-drawn girl sorting books between two shelves. One is packed with numbered gray books beneath “Betrayal: Acts 1–2,094” and a broken heart. The other holds fewer colorful books beneath “Perhaps Worth Discussing” and an outlined heart.

From Unprocessed Trauma to Integration

Over the last six months, I’ve experienced significant shifts in my recovery. I’m feeling it in my writing and illustrations, where I’m now able to convey things that previously defied articulation or required 42 million words. Looking back, my older writing reads almost like an attempt to assemble evidence for litigation. Or a screenplay. Trying with all earnestness to force light onto things that had been kept in the shadows for too long. And while looking at those things was essential to my healing, part of me desperately needed someone to recognize what I was trying to survive and make sense of. I was frantic for one fucking witness. Someone. Anyone. To say, “I see it. I saw it. That happened. It was rough and wrong and shitty and painful.” And if I were really lucky, maybe someone might even have said, “I get it.” Or, “You’re right.” Or, “Help me understand.” And I would have absolutely settled for, “That shit fucking happened.” “What do you need?” And it is astonishing to me that today, I don’t think I need that anymore. I no longer feel terrorized by the need for outside acknowledgment of my experience in order for it to be true or traumatic. I know what happened to me. I know how it affected me. And somehow, that seems to be enough. Is this what it’s like to have a sense of self? Or self-worth? Like maybe I can honor myself and what I know to be true without needing somebody else to affirm it. So I’ve taken down older writing for examination, saving only what feels useful. That writing gave me a chance to voice things I hadn’t been welcome to say. Things that had left me feeling silenced and erased and impotent. I’m not sorry for writing those things. The writing did what I needed. Its work is done. It’s not for the trash, but it no longer interests me. It’s lost its hold. And I love that. Have you ever exhausted yourself trying to access the most perfectly accurate words, the ones that couldn’t be disputed or denied, so you could finally get someone to see what happened? ♡

Read More
Cartoon-style black-and-white drawing on a soft green background of a girl feeding papers labeled trauma, confusion, misinformation, doubt, and shame into a machine labeled “Processing Through Writing.” Papers coming out say agency, discernment, and intention. Her bag has a small WBA heart logo, and the image is watermarked with wholesomebadass.com.

The Shit Before the Shift

No Dimmer Switch I feel everything the most amount—the good and the unpleasant—constantly. Everything in high definition. I am a deep feeler, or as the archetype likes to say: thin-skinned, overly sensitive. Not a crime. Not a defect. But not an easy way to be in the world. From my tiniest days, I recall feeling inconsolably rattled, navigating my tightly wound nervous system and sensitive disposition with no guidance, knowledge, language, or skill set for any of it. I cannot recall another version of myself underneath it all – who ever felt secure, grounded, safe, and not overwhelmed. That has been my baseline. It is not a great point of departure. Billed to Me I was raised to believe that other people’s harsh behavior spoke directly to the quality of my person, my character, and my worth. Which was terribly confusing, because I was also often scolded for asking if a person was upset with me, “Not everything is about you.” And yet other people’s unfavorable moods and behaviors were consistently billed to me or altogether denied. So… difficult moods and feelings—mine and theirs—were my responsibility. And no clue how to manage that. Painfully aware: I was constantly and undeniably failing. While nobody taught or encouraged me to know, soothe, value, or care for myself, I was expected to read, anticipate, prevent, and manage other people’s difficult feelings. So many times, blood relatives would demand in a menacing tone, “What are you so angry about?” But it was not a genuine inquiry. It was a callout: look at you, with that massive chink in your armor. Feel ashamed and pipe down or else. There is real sadness in looking back and realizing how much unmanaged, daily compounded stress was attributed exclusively to my “poor character.” I spent more than forty years trying to do the impossible thing of getting different and becoming someone else. My only ambition. What a tragic fucken waste. Stripped of any potential to self-actualize. The Familiar And having been been handled like a piece of literal shit—a poopy diaper—I did not instinctively seek nourishing and affirming relationships. I had learned that love looked like people who genuinely were not FOR me—unless and only when I was useful to them. This explains so much. At many levels, I believe the only thing I shared in common with my family of origin was that we all held me in the lowest regard. That is hard to reconcile. And tragically, my only direction was toward the familiar. Ooof. Decades of trying to feel better, by any means possible, without really knowing what I was trying to feel better from. From being a shiftless piece of shit?? There is literally no relief from that. I mistook random positive intermittent reinforcement for kindness and brought that out into the world with me as the love I sought. And sometimes the love I gave. I hate that. Better Information I am proud to have interrupted that cycle, that I did not hand that poison directly to my sons. No matter what is said about me, it cannot be denied that I rode faithfully for my children. Without exception. Maybe not perfectly or without pain to them, but with fierce loyalty and constant sacrifice. In learning about trauma and nervous systems. Neglect. Generational abuse. Coercive abuse. Scapegoating. Triangulation. Attachment, fear, compulsion. I recognize how I confused what was recognizable with what was safe and acceptable. For and from myself. Agency With better information now, I get to experience something that for so long eluded me: agency—where I carefully consider who, what, how, and when to engage, and whether engagement is even required or prudent. Writing helps me recognize and organize all of the me’s inside of me—with no intent to prosecute my past or acquit any of my me’s. I work tirelessly to untangle my myths and misconceptions about myself, love, connection, and kindness. It is a true miracle to have grown into the loving, honest, dependable, funny, compassionate, and loyal woman I am. And this is also true: I have not always known how to move in these ways—or how to move with people who equally value them. First the unlearning. The shit before the shift, I guess. What were you led to believe about yourself because of the way someone else treated you? And do you still belive it?

Read More
Black-and-white illustration of a distressed girl telling her mother and sister something hurts. They press buttons producing labels including dramatic, selfish, ungrateful, and too sensitive, leaving comfort and support untouched.

When Distress Is Dismissed as Negativity or Drama

I came into the family as the youngest, with a tightly wound nervous system and a way of taking in the world that was unusually sensitive—to sensory and emotional input, even chemical sensitivity to basic food ingredients. What I recognize now is how easily my frequent, unbridled emotional displays of despair could steal the show. Once I was visibly distressed, the distress itself was identified as the issue. Only in 12-step recovery did I learn to withhold the gift of distraction of my reaction. Before developing the metacognitive ability and language to name what was happening inside me, I certainly failed to make a persuasive case for myself. I have now accessed language for what happened, but no one in my family has shown even remote interest in understanding it—or me. I do not recall being met with curiosity by any single person, about what I was experiencing or what I might need. I remember correction, judgment, banishment, and even mocking by the actual adults. It was as though there was one established way to deal with me. I think of that as the branding. The packaging. The lens through which everything about me was processed. My discomfort, which went unconsoled and therefore persisted and compounded, was treated as evidence that something was fundamentally wrong with me. Dramatic. Histrionic. Too sensitive. Attention-seeking. Always the problem with problems. Over time, the branding hardened into vilification. Definitely an othering. Whatever I was reacting to could disappear behind the reaction. That created an ecosystem in which anything reductive, degrading, hurtful, or upsetting to me could pass without resistance or examination. Whatever else may be true, this is my experience. The branding did not merely shape my understanding of myself and my family. It made harming me easier, more permissible, and more deniable. I emerged from that environment with few models for self-soothing, compassion, or kindness, and with maladaptive ways of coping. I could be unreasonable, highly reactive, and say deeply hurtful things. I do not need to minimize any of that to understand where some of those patterns were formed, or to recognize how much I have unlearned and changed outside the relationships in which they were shaped and reinforced. Part of that growth has been learning to identify and intentionally choose something different from the kinds of personalities and relational patterns I had come to associate with what was normal, loving, kind, or healthy. I am still working on not mistaking familiarity for safety or connection.

Read More
Hand-drawn girl sorting books between two shelves. One is packed with numbered gray books beneath “Betrayal: Acts 1–2,094” and a broken heart. The other holds fewer colorful books beneath “Perhaps Worth Discussing” and an outlined heart.

From Unprocessed Trauma to Integration

Over the last six months, I’ve experienced significant shifts in my recovery. I’m feeling it in my writing and illustrations, where I’m now able to convey things that previously defied articulation or required 42 million words. Looking back, my older writing reads almost like an attempt to assemble evidence for litigation. Or a screenplay. Trying with all earnestness to force light onto things that had been kept in the shadows for too long. And while looking at those things was essential to my healing, part of me desperately needed someone to recognize what I was trying to survive and make sense of. I was frantic for one fucking witness. Someone. Anyone. To say, “I see it. I saw it. That happened. It was rough and wrong and shitty and painful.” And if I were really lucky, maybe someone might even have said, “I get it.” Or, “You’re right.” Or, “Help me understand.” And I would have absolutely settled for, “That shit fucking happened.” “What do you need?” And it is astonishing to me that today, I don’t think I need that anymore. I no longer feel terrorized by the need for outside acknowledgment of my experience in order for it to be true or traumatic. I know what happened to me. I know how it affected me. And somehow, that seems to be enough. Is this what it’s like to have a sense of self? Or self-worth? Like maybe I can honor myself and what I know to be true without needing somebody else to affirm it. So I’ve taken down older writing for examination, saving only what feels useful. That writing gave me a chance to voice things I hadn’t been welcome to say. Things that had left me feeling silenced and erased and impotent. I’m not sorry for writing those things. The writing did what I needed. Its work is done. It’s not for the trash, but it no longer interests me. It’s lost its hold. And I love that. Have you ever exhausted yourself trying to access the most perfectly accurate words, the ones that couldn’t be disputed or denied, so you could finally get someone to see what happened? ♡

Read More
Cartoon-style black-and-white drawing on a soft green background of a girl feeding papers labeled trauma, confusion, misinformation, doubt, and shame into a machine labeled “Processing Through Writing.” Papers coming out say agency, discernment, and intention. Her bag has a small WBA heart logo, and the image is watermarked with wholesomebadass.com.

The Shit Before the Shift

No Dimmer Switch I feel everything the most amount—the good and the unpleasant—constantly. Everything in high definition. I am a deep feeler, or as the archetype likes to say: thin-skinned, overly sensitive. Not a crime. Not a defect. But not an easy way to be in the world. From my tiniest days, I recall feeling inconsolably rattled, navigating my tightly wound nervous system and sensitive disposition with no guidance, knowledge, language, or skill set for any of it. I cannot recall another version of myself underneath it all – who ever felt secure, grounded, safe, and not overwhelmed. That has been my baseline. It is not a great point of departure. Billed to Me I was raised to believe that other people’s harsh behavior spoke directly to the quality of my person, my character, and my worth. Which was terribly confusing, because I was also often scolded for asking if a person was upset with me, “Not everything is about you.” And yet other people’s unfavorable moods and behaviors were consistently billed to me or altogether denied. So… difficult moods and feelings—mine and theirs—were my responsibility. And no clue how to manage that. Painfully aware: I was constantly and undeniably failing. While nobody taught or encouraged me to know, soothe, value, or care for myself, I was expected to read, anticipate, prevent, and manage other people’s difficult feelings. So many times, blood relatives would demand in a menacing tone, “What are you so angry about?” But it was not a genuine inquiry. It was a callout: look at you, with that massive chink in your armor. Feel ashamed and pipe down or else. There is real sadness in looking back and realizing how much unmanaged, daily compounded stress was attributed exclusively to my “poor character.” I spent more than forty years trying to do the impossible thing of getting different and becoming someone else. My only ambition. What a tragic fucken waste. Stripped of any potential to self-actualize. The Familiar And having been been handled like a piece of literal shit—a poopy diaper—I did not instinctively seek nourishing and affirming relationships. I had learned that love looked like people who genuinely were not FOR me—unless and only when I was useful to them. This explains so much. At many levels, I believe the only thing I shared in common with my family of origin was that we all held me in the lowest regard. That is hard to reconcile. And tragically, my only direction was toward the familiar. Ooof. Decades of trying to feel better, by any means possible, without really knowing what I was trying to feel better from. From being a shiftless piece of shit?? There is literally no relief from that. I mistook random positive intermittent reinforcement for kindness and brought that out into the world with me as the love I sought. And sometimes the love I gave. I hate that. Better Information I am proud to have interrupted that cycle, that I did not hand that poison directly to my sons. No matter what is said about me, it cannot be denied that I rode faithfully for my children. Without exception. Maybe not perfectly or without pain to them, but with fierce loyalty and constant sacrifice. In learning about trauma and nervous systems. Neglect. Generational abuse. Coercive abuse. Scapegoating. Triangulation. Attachment, fear, compulsion. I recognize how I confused what was recognizable with what was safe and acceptable. For and from myself. Agency With better information now, I get to experience something that for so long eluded me: agency—where I carefully consider who, what, how, and when to engage, and whether engagement is even required or prudent. Writing helps me recognize and organize all of the me’s inside of me—with no intent to prosecute my past or acquit any of my me’s. I work tirelessly to untangle my myths and misconceptions about myself, love, connection, and kindness. It is a true miracle to have grown into the loving, honest, dependable, funny, compassionate, and loyal woman I am. And this is also true: I have not always known how to move in these ways—or how to move with people who equally value them. First the unlearning. The shit before the shift, I guess. What were you led to believe about yourself because of the way someone else treated you? And do you still belive it?

Read More
Black-and-white illustration of a distressed girl telling her mother and sister something hurts. They press buttons producing labels including dramatic, selfish, ungrateful, and too sensitive, leaving comfort and support untouched.

When Distress Is Dismissed as Negativity or Drama

I came into the family as the youngest, with a tightly wound nervous system and a way of taking in the world that was unusually sensitive—to sensory and emotional input, even chemical sensitivity to basic food ingredients. What I recognize now is how easily my frequent, unbridled emotional displays of despair could steal the show. Once I was visibly distressed, the distress itself was identified as the issue. Only in 12-step recovery did I learn to withhold the gift of distraction of my reaction. Before developing the metacognitive ability and language to name what was happening inside me, I certainly failed to make a persuasive case for myself. I have now accessed language for what happened, but no one in my family has shown even remote interest in understanding it—or me. I do not recall being met with curiosity by any single person, about what I was experiencing or what I might need. I remember correction, judgment, banishment, and even mocking by the actual adults. It was as though there was one established way to deal with me. I think of that as the branding. The packaging. The lens through which everything about me was processed. My discomfort, which went unconsoled and therefore persisted and compounded, was treated as evidence that something was fundamentally wrong with me. Dramatic. Histrionic. Too sensitive. Attention-seeking. Always the problem with problems. Over time, the branding hardened into vilification. Definitely an othering. Whatever I was reacting to could disappear behind the reaction. That created an ecosystem in which anything reductive, degrading, hurtful, or upsetting to me could pass without resistance or examination. Whatever else may be true, this is my experience. The branding did not merely shape my understanding of myself and my family. It made harming me easier, more permissible, and more deniable. I emerged from that environment with few models for self-soothing, compassion, or kindness, and with maladaptive ways of coping. I could be unreasonable, highly reactive, and say deeply hurtful things. I do not need to minimize any of that to understand where some of those patterns were formed, or to recognize how much I have unlearned and changed outside the relationships in which they were shaped and reinforced. Part of that growth has been learning to identify and intentionally choose something different from the kinds of personalities and relational patterns I had come to associate with what was normal, loving, kind, or healthy. I am still working on not mistaking familiarity for safety or connection.

Read More