Problem v. Unpleasant Fact
Tonight, my sons and I saw the movie Sing, so wholesome and fun(ish)- the film, and going to the movies for the first time ever with my two boys. For several reasons, we do not frequent the movies. Even with extreme noise reduction earmuffs, it felt impossibly loud to me…and it was like a meat locker in the theatre. If not for my sons and our special event with snacks, I would’ve walked out and waited for the dvd. The seats were plush recliners and there were only 6 others in the theatre. Dreamy, right? Two of those six attendees were very active and distracting for someone like myself. I became so keenly focused on the difference between a problem and an unpleasant fact. I was cold–there was no solution, considering leaving was not an option–Unpleasant fact, must accept. It was too loud for me, unpleasant fact. The two active kids whose presence competed with the volume and chill of the theatre–difficult facts–Acceptance acceptance acceptance. Before program, I regarded anyone or anything vexing as a problem to be dealt with.
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.
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 
Dear Mom,