Dismantling the Cage

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The excerpt below is taken from a book I am writing called: The Cage, The Flamingo, and The Peacock.  My hope is to help others heal by sharing my experiences of learning how to set boundaries, protect myself, and to eventually embrace all of me in love and acceptance.  It is a work in progress.  The following is the introduction to the first section of the book called, “The Sacrifice”, where I candidly discuss various events in my childhood that instilled fear and distrust, distorting the perception of my world in my formative years.  I’m hopeful that sharing will help other victims feel less alone in their struggle and will encourage others to speak out, spreading awareness of these issues.

“Child molestation and abuse were the acts that formulated the inception of my cage.  I would say most of us have some type of cage that we acquire in the formative years of our life.  With each invalidating act, steel bars of  fear, shame, and sadness captured my spirit.  This separated me from the world, and often times, from myself.  Doubt and despair began to settle in my small frame, my vision limited from the large, steel bars, surrounding me.  Yet, the bold, little bird of beauty still longed to be set free, to commune with the earthly delights that were close enough to instill desire, yet far enough away to weigh my wings with hesitation and fear.  I longed to taste the honeysuckle and let its juice trickle down my chin, lost in its sweetness.  It was not accessible to me.  

Will knowing the origins of this constricting cage help me to be free?  After all these years of protecting, will I be courageous enough to cut through the layers and abandon the “safe world” I had created so that I can finally taste the sweetness this world offers?  Instinctively, I knew it was time to revisit the beginning so that I could grieve what was lost and reclaim all that was mine, empowered to design the ending. This is the path I will take inward, to dismantle the cage that had entrapped me and kept me crouched in darkness and fear.  It’s time to claw, crawl, and carve a way out of the darkness and into the light, leaving no open wounds uncared for and no scars forgotten.  It is time to visit the places inside of me that need light and compassion. 

If you find light along my journey for yourself, take the light and use it as a way out of the darkness.  Together we will heal.  Light is meant to be shared, for it drives out the darkness that deceives us and dampens our joy.  And so, we begin the descend, into the basement where it may be a little uncomfortable and dingy, at times.  It’s necessary, the destiny is clarity and stillness.  This is healing, this is love, this is light”.  



Strolling About the Port

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I am accepting the reality that my family bonds have forever been compromised by my sister’s addiction and the aftermath that followed it.  My mother’s enabling and the lack of remorse and accountability my sister expresses, has left me painfully aware of the vast distance between us.  I accept the distance may not be able to be made up in this lifetime.

Because I am single with no family of my own, this loss has been more significant for me.  I have no children and very few friends.  I acknowledge that I should have spent more time in my life building a stronger social network of friends.  I spent a decade involved with a Narc and was isolated and consumed with the chaos emanating from an abusive relationship.  I finally got the courage to leave my Narc and moved home to have the support from my family, but was devastated when the environment turned hostile. My niece at the time was very sick with addiction, had committed several crimes, and recently used a needle.  I was desperate to get her into a rehab, but was dismayed when I was not joined by my mother and sister in aggressively intervening to attempt getting her into rehab.  I ended up moving back to the NW because my holiday was ruined as it has been so many times before, and I did not want to live so close to a family that devalued me.  At least living so far away, I could tell myself that the reason I did not see family was due to distance, not lack of love.

Since I have been back to the Northwest, I became aware that arguing was a way of holding on to them.  It was all I had left.  It is has been extremely hard to not connect to my nieces and nephews.  Yet, they do not value me, nor do they ever seek a connection with me.  This is even after 2 of them have visited and one we helped through a crisis, the other rode back with me across the country when I moved home.  Even so, with attempts to communicate, one of them hasn’t contacted me in nearly 2 years. How does one deal with that level of disregard from a family member?  It has hurt me, and yet I am beginning to reach peace with this loss through accepting the reality that they are unaware and struggling.

And so, I am gradually spending less time arguing and being angry and more time investing in my own endeavors and health.  It has been hard to “let go”, but I do see the light at the end of the tunnel.  So much of what we really need and long for can be found within ourselves.  I honestly feel there is a wealth of love and joy within us collectively and when I am unable to get what I need from someone, I need to be open to the possibilities of either meeting those needs myself or accepting it from someone willing and able to give.  The source of love is abundant, we often are just insistent on getting it from the person in which we desire it.  This keeps us caught in a web while the world continues rotating.

I’m stepping off the boat that was sinking and am strolling about the port in some foreign  seaside city.  There is a lot to discover here and what I see and do will be depend on my willingness to explore.  I’m hopeful and excited I have made this choice, because I could have remained in that turbulent sea, in a leaking boat, with hardly any supplies.  I’m going to stay here for a time, sit on the dock of the bay, and build anticipation towards the time, I again, set sail.  This is healing.



The Story of Us

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The Story of Us

I feel you around me,

Beside me, inside me.

Your Breath, my lips,

Your hands, my hips.


The fear dissipating,

The storm, abating.

The calm of the sea,

An understood liberty.


Together, Apart,

The Ending, the start.

Your skin and mine,

My leaves, your vine.


Your mouth brushes.

The chill on my skin.

Your lips are parted,

And warm within.


You Pull, I push,

I leave, you come.

The story of us,

Forever undone.

The time I spent with you I refer to as the “Decade of Darkness”.  There is a saying that states “the devil will come to you disguised as everything you ever wanted”.  I now know this to be true.

I was young and naive when I met you, coming out of a divorce with my husband who had come out to me a few years before.  I had not dated for years and was relatively innocent when it came to understanding men.  You were eleven years my senior, coming out of a marriage of 26 years.  You were a retired veteran and had been a deacon in your church for the past 3 decades.  I remember the first few months, I was captivated by your display of chivalry and maturity and even recall calling you “my angel”.  And yet, looking back at my diaries during that time, I was expressing doubt and concern about you.  I even stated that “something was not right” and I “must listen to my intuition”.  Even so, I denied the voice of concern that was always present when I was with you.

I spent years swept up in the preoccupation and pursuit of you.  You spent years taking advantage of my preoccupation.  I must have seemed like an easy target for you at the time.  You and I both were both separated, but not yet divorced.  Your behavior was one of rushing in, loving so beautifully and fiercely, and then withdrawing from me.  Having spent the majority of my life married to a gay man, the passion with you was all too consuming and represented something I never knew existed, but knew I did not want to lose.

I remember reluctantly giving you your space when you shared that you just needed more time.  I would interpret your cold and callous ways as you being “far away”, tied up in grief and regret, when in actuality these expressions were tactics to discourage questions or concerns.  If I did question, I was made to feel guilty and was called pushy.   I was convinced that you loved me deeply, but that you needed more time to divorce your wife and commit to me completely.  You kept me baited with emotional manipulation by withdrawing your presence from me, and threatening to break things off with me if I pushed to hard.  When I wanted to approach this topic with you, I often received the silent treatment or was told by you that I was “getting sick again”.  You would use my Bipolar illness as leverage to discredit my concerns and instill self doubt in me.

You continually reassured me during times that I questioned your faithfulness, that you had never lied or cheated on me, but looking back, there is too much evidence to ignore.  At the end of our relationship, you boasted of your sexual prowess, sharing how your current “victim” was completely enamored with you. I understood this, after all, “making love” was one of your favorite weapons in your arsenal among the others: stonewalling, gaslighting, and discarding.  I sat in silence with my jaw on the floor as you gloated about your new partner’s deep admiration for you, while in the same breath asking me to come down and sleep with you.  It was my first real awareness that I had given myself to someone I did not truly know.  All the little games you would play to keep me dizzy, doubting, and derailed.  All the little games you played to protect your fragile ego.   It makes me literally sick to my stomach because I am someone who would never cheat, knowingly.  You had me committing crimes, blindfolded.  The last two years that mark our end, you were still pursing me, inviting me to your home while you were immersed in a relationship that was nearly two years old.  I’m fairly certain you were cheating on both of us when I was disentangling from you.  It is this display of behavior that has allowed me to see you without the mask you wear, and it is horrifying and nauseating at the same time.  I gave a decade of my life to someone I did not even know.  We were engaged at one point, I almost married you.

Our “Decade of Darkness” is marked by a very “dark” event in our earlier years. As we grew closer, sharing holidays and taking trips, the pressure for me to be visible in your life boiled over into a breaking point.  My trust in you was dwindling as I grew more and more impatient that you had not divorced, as promised.  I had broken up with you several times, only to regrettably accept you back when you showed up at my door, apologetic.  In a heated exchange, I threatened to expose our relationship to your wife and adult child, in response, you choked me and  threatened to put a bullet in my head.  I should have walked away, reporting the incident to the police.  Perhaps, you would be in prison now instead of romancing another while attempting to contact me and flirt.  But, I was in shock at the time, and being a victim of child molestation, I shelved the occurrence and pressed forward.  You slept over that night and we went for breakfast in the morning.  Life went forward, and eventually you divorced your wife, but the event was shelved carefully for processing much later.  It was just too difficult for me to acknowledge that the love of my life choked me and threatened my existence.  Years later, you would deny that you choked me, stating through chuckles that you were only trying to scare me.  In our last year, in a response to an e-mail where I confronted you again about being choked, you continued to deny it and sent me pictures of what “a real choking looked like”.  You sent this knowing that I had to see a doctor to ensure there was no damage to my throat.  It was sore and I was hoarse for nearly two weeks.

As a victim and a survivor, I realize to those who have not experienced this type of relationship, it is unfathomable that I went back. The decade I spent living with narcissistic abuse was all too consuming and confusing.  I moved across the country twice to leave him and then moved back to be with him.  I’m a smart woman and never was a “doormat” in his life, we were apart more than we were together.  Still yet, I kept coming back because he made me feel, at times, loved and the chaos was familiar to me.  It sounds ridiculous, but this person gave me something I did not even know that existed prior to him, a feeling of complete acceptance.  Looking back now, I see it was not real.

Another major issue at play is that I do not have a close father figure in my life.  I do not know my real father and my step-father has always been distant. When my Narc came into my life with such ferocity and intent, I experienced what I had missed my entire life, love and intimacy with a man.  Because of this, I was unwilling to let go.  But, in time, I did.  The relationship with him personified the grief of never having a father, it brought that loss to life.  I could see the child within refusing to let go, determined to get what she needed.  When I finally left, it was because I knew that I was enough.  My Narc never gave me the love I wanted, but he helped me find the love I needed to be fulfilled and complete.  It’s a love story that ends with self love.  I’m taking the space to grow and am no longer desperate and searching for someone to complete me.  I’m excited to do that on my own.



That Fear


That Fear

It’s still there,

That fear.

It’s still there.


I can’t recall,

A time when I was free.

Please, Let me be.

Don’t waste it on me.

I’m not doing anything about it.


It’s still there,

That fear.

It’s still there.


Haunting me,

Choking me,

Hugging me,

It really loves me.


It’s still there,

That fear.

It’s still there,

With me.


This is another older poem of mine written about an emotion I am all too familiar with, fear.  All my life, I have been running from some invisible danger.  I’ve been restless and on the move, seeking stimulation to avoid the stillness. To be still, is to be unprepared.  One should never let their guard down.  There is, however, a valid reason for why I have been trapped for so many years in this state of extreme watchfulness.

When I was only four years old, I was molested by my next door neighbor.  Although most of the details of the molestation are not well-formed, I believe the memories laid dormant in every inch of my physical being until later in life when it became too hard, too exhausting, and too damaging to continue living at such a heightened state.  When the abuse occurred, I swallowed the shame and secrecy, and denied myself awareness of the event.  I carried in my small frame the promise to never make “the mistake again”, resulting in extreme hyper-vigiliance.  Revealing the secret at the time placed my Mom in danger as the perpetrator was threatening to harm her if the secret was told.  Out of this came my ability to read situations and people with surprising accuracy as it was a way of survival for me.  Years later, I communed with the part of me that had been silenced, devalued, and frozen in fear.  I continue to commune with her and reassure her that she is worthy, visible, and safe.  This event colored my perception of the world and as a result, I have always been fearful, having multiple phobias and general mistrust in others.

And so, “This Fear”, is an expression of what I have always known and remembered.  And I’m working very hard with intention to calm those places within me that still haven’t heard my adult voice that is saying: “I am safe, I am here, I am visible”.  This fear will then let go little by little, realizing that I am not longer under siege.

I felt moved to write this tonight because I was speaking with a friend who also had experienced quite a bit of trauma in her life.  She is truly struggling at the moment.  It reminded me of the last decade of my life of which I call the “Decade of Darkness” where I was engaging in an abusive relationship with a Narcissistic and was recklessly gambling.  I see now that I was filling my hours with chaos in order to avoid the stillness.  Often times stillness to a survivor of trauma feels threatening.  I’m still learning to “be still” and enjoy the peace that is provides.  It is a transformation and I haven’t made it to the other side yet.  I’m intrigued about a life lived with less chaos where I am able to relax and have less chronic pain from years of remaining on guard, often holding my breath.

I feel that this is my greatest work in life, to heal so completely that most of the fear within is released.  Perhaps, I can help those who also hold fear, shame, and despair and are fruitlessly avoiding the stillness, feeling it is less safe somehow.

And so now, I am ready to “do something about it”.  I’m infinitely blessed to have the insight and awareness as to why I held on for so long.  I just want to pick my four year old up and hold her tight, hugging her completely, reassuring that she is in safe hands now.  That fear “really did love me”, it was a source of protection and watchfulness for a time, and I thank you little one for keeping me safe.  Your job is done, you can rest now.





An Owl’s Insight


An Owl’s Insight


Bent, Bloodied in a corner,

Eye lids, stitched and sealed.

Engulfed in darkness,

A stench stops those who venture near.


A great facade, a circus,

Of Bells, whistles and cheer.

Laughing gaily, tiptoeing through the forest,

Amongst the encroaching fear.


Whipping, whirling, almost free,

From the stony cell, I sit.

Peals of laughter reverberate,

In my sunken face, they snarl and spit.


The pendulum swings, slowly sweeping,

To the left, and to the right.

The beast inside, has weathered the ride,

And I, gained and owl’s insight.


I wrote this poem several years ago.  I feel it embodies the mood and perceptions I often cycle through when experiencing mania and depression.  Often, I feel hijacked and imprisoned by this illness and am swept up in conflicting emotions and thoughts until it releases its grip and I reach clarity once again.  It is very hard for others to understand that I do not “bring myself” to these extremes, but instead am captured and held captive until my release.  And then, just as the storm so violently came, it subsides, often leaving damage in the wake.  And this occurs to no fault of my own, over and over again.

It is a devastating illness.  And it took many years to separate myself from the person I become when in an episode.  I’ve had to not only grieve the loss of jobs and relationships, but also the loss of potential and the loss of self.  Often, after an episode, I am dropped from a place of dizzying chaos, to immediate clarity and the transition is disorienting.  And although, I agree there are things I can do to decrease intensity and duration of episodes, once I am held captive, I must ride it out, and weather the ride.  Often when I feel I have reached stability, to my surprise, I am taken again.  This is why it is an illness.  And it is why I continue to write to dispel the myths and mystery surrounding this disorder.

Longing to Connect


Has anyone else loved someone who is struggling with addiction?  I have.  Love isn’t easy sometimes and there isn’t an instruction manual.  Emotions can be difficult to process, especially when we are holding conflicting ones in the same space.  Below, I share a piece of my greatest heartache and most difficult struggle.

Today, my post is originating from a deep longing to connect to the ones I love.  This year I realized through a process of painful discovery that I had to let go of my sister and her adult children.  My sister has battled with addiction throughout her adult life and as a result her kids were swept up in the culture and lifestyle surrounding addiction, and have not reached their potential.  Two of her children have been in jail, one struggles with a psychiatric illness that began after Meth use, and none of them walked across the stage to graduate high school.  Of her five adult children, only one of them is currently working.  I’m not only grieving the loss of opportunities for each one of them, but also the connection I longed to create with them and the memories we would have made in time.

This issue has caused me more frustration, pain, and grief than any other in my life.  My nuclear family is small consisting of just my sister, mom, step-father, and me.  Because of my mental illness, Bipolar I, I never conceived children.  I was always a little skeptical of quitting my medication in order to focus on a pregnancy and decided it may be for the best to not have any children.  I still grieve over the loss of not being a Mom and have invested more instead in my sister’s family.  She has five children.  I realize that this is one reason the addiction in her family is particularly painful and distressing for me.  I felt that as her kids matured and began having children of their own, that I could be involved in the lives of my loved ones.  I could take my great nieces and nephews camping, ice skating, and to ball games.  I was hopeful I could babysit, perhaps help with homework, and even take them on trips.  That I would be a permanent fixture in their lives and part of the family.  The only niece I have that has a child is currently living at home with her Mom and other siblings and is estranged because of the issue of addiction.  All relationships are distant or nearly nonexistent as my continued confrontation regarding addiction in my family has only served to further fracture bonds and alienate me from my family.  My Mother continues to enable and often will deny the extent of the damage caused relating to the substance abuse.  I have raged and also have not been always productive in the way I dealt with this illness in my family.

In the end, because there has been little hope for reconciliation, I came to the conclusion to let go.  It is a process that will take time.  I still hang on and discuss my concerns with my mother, but in time, even these conversations will have an expiration date.  Some things cannot be completely repaired, especially when accountability and effort are not part of the equation.  I remain distant, with the door still ajar.  I still miss my sister and her children, but I also know that until things are more stable it is best for me to disengage as the stress has caused me to relapse in my illness several times, becoming extremely depressed.

It’s hard.  All the messages, texts, conversations over the phone, were my desperate attempts to connect to my family.  Often, I raged, screaming loudly into the storm, shouting in panic and desperation to please get help.  I was screaming so loudly because I knew they were in danger.  I was screaming so loudly because I knew I was losing them.  I tried everything to get their attention and I stood alone refusing to accept that they were simply not there, even though they were standing right in front of me.  Years past and I still fought for them. In every single way, I fought.  Sometimes it was sending a nice package of goodies, or bringing over tons of clothes from my closet that I no longer needed, or it was long messages of hope, encouragement, and ideas to help them.  Other times, it was confronting the drug use, insisting they get a job, and telling them they could do better.  I sent resources and websites to provide them with access to programs where they lived.  These were my attempts to help them, but also to connect to them.

And, at the end of this journey, I was left completely and utterly alone with my Mom still enabling: buying my sister a new manufactured home, getting her a used car, paying for my niece’s lawyer to defend five charges that she incurred this year relating to her addiction.  The cycle continues.

This long fight is almost over.  My sister and her kids never call, never write, and are not involved in my life.  What I desired, does not exist.  My dream of watching my great niece and nephews has a high likelihood of never coming to fruition.  My sister and I may never be able to repair things or trust one another.  We are too different and live very different lifestyles.

Looking back, I was longing to connect.  I wanted to share the holidays, vacations, and memories with my family.  I wanted them to be healthy enough to fully participate, not just with me, but in their own lives.  I wanted them to finish school and work so that they had more power and opportunities in their lives.  I now am stepping down, disengaging.  I am weary from nearly 2 decades of fighting.

I will hold on to the memories I have with my family.  I will continue to love from afar and wish for the best.  And I will show up in my life, fully present and focused, ready to take my life to a place of real healing and forgiveness.

The greatest lesson I have learned relating to this struggle is that during conflict, we are seeking connection.  Sometimes, we have to clear a pathway in order to reach the place where we can connect.  And ultimately, if people are unwilling or unable to connect, it is wise to honor yourself and do what is needed to continue on the path towards healing.

Today, I am connecting with myself.  I am here.  And I will do what I can to move forward, rebuild, and grow.  Another seed planted in my garden.



Hello Grief.

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Hello Grief.

For so long I avoided you, gave you the silent treatment, ran the other way.  I wouldn’t let you stay.

I thought the layers of pain caused by abandonment, betrayal, invalidation, and neglect would be intolerable to acknowledge.

I sit with you now, pouring a hot cup of tea, my eyes brimming with tears as I watch the steam dissipating and I take a heavy sigh.

All the years of not knowing how to let go, constantly running, desperate to find safety, shelter, and security in the arms of another or some other noble endeavor. The more I pursued, the further I became lost, hopeless, desperate, and suffering.

Always feeling that something outside of myself would come and rescue me. Always searching for the validation needed to feel visible, loved, wanted.

And only getting farther away.

Hello Grief.

I’d like to sit down and have a chat with you. I know, I should have done so long ago. I was confused and uncomfortable. I was restless and bored. I was alone.

So, it’s time to say goodbye to certain people, patterns, and preoccupations. It hurts. But, you are here with me. You know my every hurt, my every pain… and together we are here in this space. You won’t leave. For you are a part of me. A part I’ve ignored, neglected for a long while. Even so, you are still here. I AM HERE. And I am ready.

And so I have a journey to take. In time, there will no desperate arguments with family. Arguing has been the way that I have been “holding on”. It is time to let go. I won’t remain engaged with people who do not wish to truly know me or nurture my spirit. I will not provide those who are unable to love and give to me a space to occupy in my life, my mind, or my spirit.

Hello Grief.

There is so much to forgive, to let go, and to accept. I could have spent my whole life invested in the pursuit of finding someone to love me and I would have missed this glorious opportunity to truly love myself.

You are a wise friend. A teacher. Allowing me to connect to what has harmed me, and to let go and breathe newness and life into what has dimmed my authenticity. By connecting, and feeling, I will be more in tune with my self and my needs, setting better boundaries.

Hello Grief.

I am listening, loving, and letting go.

The Metamorphosis, Building the Wing Span


I’ve been restless and running for years without direction or purpose, frantically putting out fires, and desperately warning others to contain their flames or they will get burned. It seemed that most around me were in danger or were stagnating and without considering my own downward spiral, I relentlessly pursued the impossible feat of helping those in my life who, at the time, had no real desire to change.  I not only dove in, but was swimming laps around the lake, often alone, in the dark.  It became exhausting, dangerous, and desperate.  And ultimately, those who needed the help did not care that I was drowning as a result.

The two individuals in my life where I spent the majority of my time desperately seeking love were my sister and my ex fiancé.  My sister’s addiction and the devastating impact it has had on her now adult children captured my time and attention resulting in intense strife between me and my entire family.  I was the one confronting while my sister used and my Mom enabled.  The abusive relationship with my fiancé, a Narc, set the stage for an intense decade of both physical and psychological abuse, gaslighting, stonewalling, devaluing, and discarding.  It was a cycle that continued for nearly ten years and consumed me.

These two relationships taught me to listen to and honor my spirit.  Initially, they stripped me of my dignity, self worth, and esteem.  In the end, I felt broken, unloved, and devastated.  I spent the last two years of my life in darkness due to the complete demise of these bonds, which resulted in severe depression and an exacerbation of my Bipolar illness.  I lost employment and as a result I am in the process currently of potentially getting onto disability.  My world came crashing down and left me in a space stripped of everything I had clung to for years.  It took several months, but I began letting go and learning who I am within the stillness, without the chaos that had defined my life.

The confusion is slowly subsiding as I learn to embrace what is mine and let go of what I cannot control.  There is the shame and embarrassment for getting too involved, not letting go earlier, and for the behaviors that resulted from years of rejection and alienation.  There were days spent in agony where I was enraged and in despair for the love I could not make mine.  If I learned nothing else in this process, I learned that holding on was more painful and destructive than letting go.

While at the same time, there is forgiveness and acceptance with the awareness that I was learning and doing the hard work of carving out my self esteem, fighting for my own self worth.  I’ve spent time comparing my successes and failures to others which I have learned is a dangerous practice because it is impossible to truly know another person’s story and each of us have our own unique path to wholeness.  My desire was to make myself whole, starting with the events in my childhood that had immobilized me, and left certain places in my life dark, desolate, and without care.  I longed for a space of complete healing where no part of me from the beginning of my existence to the present moment would be left untouched, unchanged, immature.  This desired growth would be my metamorphosis.  I would not be satiated until I could spread my wings and fly, lightly, at ease, with joy and reverence for what I had accomplished.

And thus, I continue to touch those untouched places with kindness and compassion.  I continue to come back to this place of healing after every distraction and derailing.  I continue to forgive and focus on the goal of freedom.  I continue to create boundaries that foster this growth instead of pull me away from it.  And lastly, and the most difficult, I continually remind myself to only engage and invest in those who turn towards me, not away from me.  My heart continually breaks for those I know suffering, and yet, I admit, my involvement does not change their situation, it has only left me feeling hopeless, helpless, and often discarded.  I must heal myself, invest in myself, and be a lighthouse and safe harbor when and if they are ready to heal.  In this stillness, my garden will grow and I can rebuild.  My intention is in light and love and the energy and investment is in creating this space for myself.  It’s my most challenging and rewarding work.


All Unraveled & Learning

I have started this blog as a way of healing.  In the past decade, my life became increasingly chaotic and frustrating, much like tangled yarn that even with hours of attempting to disentangle, appeared hopeless and muddled.  Through the torment of an abusive relationship with a narcissist, the loss and strain of family bonds due to my sister’s addiction, and the fight and failure to remain employed due to my mental illness, I became despondent and in despair.  All of this caused a physical struggle of chronic pain, anxiety, and multiple somatic concerns that I still struggle with today.

The events in my adult life which have rendered me unemployed due to an exacerbation of my illness, Bipolar 1, ADHD, and PTSD, have left me completely unraveled and dependent upon others for the current time for survival.  There is nothing more humbling that losing your ability to maintain employment due to an illness.  The loss of independence is crushing, and yet, I’m still hopeful on most days I will bounce back, and this time, it will be after having the space and time to heal and to learn skills that will support my health and success.

It has been messy.  I’m standing in the thick of it all with eyes mostly open.  I’m accepting my responsibility to play the cards that have been dealt, no matter how difficult or challenging.  I am also aware now that I’m alone in holding the cards.  There will be some that judge every raise, every fold, and every discard.  And there will be times I will make a mistake, but I’ve learned that often mistakes are necessary to be more skillful with the next hand dealt.  Even so, this game is filled with times of suspense, boredom, joy, and despair.  I’ve learned we need them all.

Initially, I felt compelled to separate the issues of my life and write a blog related to each one.  But, I’ve decided the interplay between the three is necessary to demonstrate how often times we live a complex life with many competing forces and it is the combination of all of our struggles that can render us immobilized, often overwhelmed with fear, grief, and anger.  As I heal, I am beginning to see a thread tying all of my struggles together and I hope to speak to this force as a means to forgive, grieve, soothe, and ultimately love.  The road is difficult and so much pulls us away over and over from the reservoir of love and stillness that resides within us if we are able to let go and focus on what we are willing to control.

I named my blog “land undefined” because life, for me, is a process of definition.  Just as a sculptor starts with a lump of clay, it takes time, dedication, skill, focus, and even love to mold something with no true definition to a piece of art that has to ability to resonate with others and elicit emotions of love, admiration, and joy.  This is the challenge in our own lives.  We are forever defining ourselves, placing boundaries to keep us safe, and molding what we desire for ourselves, our lives, which is a work of art.  Our spirits are housed in a temple that again, we have the ability with focus, love, and work to define over and over throughout the course our lives.

Throughout this journey, I will go back to the challenges that have helped to create and form my impression of the world, and the healing that is taking place to redefine my spirit and life after the lesson.  Often we forget that we are not in a static world, and that we are meant to adapt, and change with time.  Our transformation can only be as dramatic and beautiful as our willingness to let go and be molded once again.  I will keep coming back to this concept to demonstrate in my own life how stagnation and despair occurred when I would not heed the urgent call to let go and change!  This is paramount to my healing process and I am continually working to achieve this.

I hope you someday join me on my road of forgiveness and self love.  It has taken me decades to wake up and to acknowledge the many mistakes I made that led me further away from myself and to a place of rage, despair, and deep regret.  The only real gift we have is the present moment and we often spend our lives escaping it in some form.  Thanks for standing in this space with me.  More to come as I am all unraveled and learning and am hopeful that sharing will help others and me stand more lovingly in this space!

Happy Healing.