I am a passing ship, floating on calm waters, slowly disappearing into the horizon. Perhaps, I’ve carried you a time or two, held your hand, smiled gently, filling the spaces inside of you that are often vacuous.
I am a mystery and riddle that remains eternally unsolved and the layers of cyclic history that is often left unresolved, left here to unravel over time, slowly.
I’m the life that has slipped into skin, endlessly discovering where I begin and end, using my senses to make sense of this space and sojourn.
I’d like to stay, but it was never designed that way.
I am merely mortal.
I’m nearly 49 and feel the sands of time, slipping, effortlessly, steadily, through the neck of the hourglass. It will pass.
It will pass.
I will as well.
I long to taste more, devouring earthly delights, more slowly than before, mindfully with intention. The produce, freshly picked and gently rinsed. My tastebuds awakened to exquisite meals, tasting the rich culture of each culinary endeavor, acknowledging the effort and care granted to each experience.
I would love to fall in love with people again, seeing others captured in a still life photograph, in great detail, picking up the subtleties that make us human. I would like to find my childhood innocence and view people and situations in earnest curiosity and wonderment.
I’d like to lose myself in laughter, titling my head back, twirling under the stars by moonlight. While other times I’d like to sit quietly, listening to the cicadas effortlessly sing their song.
I want to feel the humidity of the Southland engulfing me, beckoning me to take a swim at dusk in a nearby lake, accompanied by crackling campfire.
I’d would love to drive down long stretches of endless backroads at night with someone special by my side, windows rolled down, warm breeze, and blaring music.
And yet, I am merely mortal.
And time doesn’t stop.
I unfortunately fell asleep, as many of us do.
I became wrapped up in what I expected, instead of what actually is.
I don’t regret what I have learned.
I long to live more, and think less, let go, and release.
I am merely mortal.
This will all pass.
And so will I.
It is time to live with more intention and less fear, forgetting the layers that once entrapped and defined me.
I feel an edge of freedom and mystery within me.
I won’t limit myself anymore.
Endless discovery awaits.
I am merely mortal.
And when I fly away, free from my final day, I will do so in fullness.
Soaring endless skies, completely unattached, at one with all I have known.
I’ll slip out of my skin and perhaps I’ll begin again.
More often than not, I feel irrelevant. I feel very isolated, alone. Not necessarily lonely, just aware that I have very few people in my life right now….. very few. Some of my closest friends have left this realm, leaving me to walk this journey without them beside me, often in disillusionment and bereavement.
I’m a little numb, but I press forward despite feeling depressed on certain days. Central to the core tenet of my life is the overarching belief that there is always enough light left in this world to “delight in” and discover. The light on the path forward might be a little dimmed, at times, but even the darkness is never without light. The light is what I refer to as “love” and it is what moves my legs through the muddy waters, even when I’m exhausted and ready to resign.
I think about the path I have taken thus far and how painful it has been and I wonder is this the end? Will I ever live again, slip into some skin, and become innocent, alive with wonderment?
Like the sands of a time table, I feel so much of my life slipping through my fingers. I’m chasing after each moment, grasping them as they fade away, while consciously drumming up and clinging to the remnants of my past. Even in this very brief and fleeting time that is all mine, the memories I am able to recall are vast and varied. I return to the spaces in time when I was too young and tender to realize that these moments would one day be recollections of my past. I see so many versions of myself. I spend time consciously searching my memory for all that was once familiar and for the many cherished times where life was innocent and immature.
In this dizzying fall back into my past I can see….
The little girl who loved her grandfather and who would run barefoot on the outside patio to greet him when he returned from a long week working on the Florida power lines.
Swimming effortlessly in my grandparent’s pool, skimming along the bottom, watching the sun dance off the water, making shadows on the floor of the pool. I was at peace and felt masterful and unafraid.
Waking up excited on Christmas morning, rousing my sister to share what Santa brought.
That first awkward kiss at my friends house. Him leaning in and me nearly talking all the way through it because I wasn’t ready yet. I was terrified. What if I did this wrong?
Falling in love for the first time, looking into his eyes and laughing innocently.
My mind rests on so many memories, the good, the bad, and the ugly. The painful ones where I felt devalued, dismissed, or invisible. The hopeful ones where I was working towards a goal that I had finally achieved. And the times full of angst, where I sometimes compared my journey to the presumed successes of others, feeling discouraged and dismayed.
The past decade, I got sucked into the black hole of depression and my vision was nearly blinded. I was involved in an abusive relationship and as soon as that ended, I was sucked into my family’s epic drama. I do not regret it as I did learn a lot during this difficult time and I am healing. I also feel it was purposeful in that I was able to help a child who was at risk, be removed from the home. I lost loved ones in the process, but I gained more of myself in the end.
For several years, because of this distraction, I didn’t drum up the memories of my past. My mind was often fixated on the pain of the present and I wasn’t able to release myself from the forest fire that had consumed me. The burns I endured fighting the fire has forever scarred me, and yet I survived it. And now, I am walking away and doing my best to wake up and feel alive again. I want to bask in the warmth and open my senses up to the endless possibilities of what lies ahead.
I notice that I am awakened, again and again, only to fall back into a deep slumber, lulled to sleep by the endless noise and chatter of life. I get swept up with worry and spend time consumed in the angst that accompanies the banal existence of humanity. Life is hard.
So much time wasted on “what should be”, instead of embracing “what is”. I fear it is slipping away from me, the sand, always sliding through the neck of life that seems strangulating and suffocating.
After reaching certain summits in my life, I am able to see the vast valleys below of which I traversed. The valleys, which were perilous, dark, and difficult, take on an entire different purpose and place in my life now that time has passed. The distance provides more definition and clarity. I linger there momentarily, before suddenly losing myself again in the dense forest, caught up in the thick brush that captures me again and again. Yet, love pushes me forward.
I do feel that I am seeing more of the forest. On those rare glimpses, where I am present and mindful, I see so much more. My mind has been cleared and memories flood back in reminding me of the epic journey that is ALL MINE. I’d rather it not end, but one day it surely will.
And so, I wish and even long for another opportunity. I’d like another shot at this. I don’t feel I got it quite right this time around.
I get anxious that I am nearly 50. I wonder if I will fall in love again and feel alive and youthful. I’m getting older, even my dog is aging.
I see life swallowing me whole. So much has slipped away. I fall back remembering my grandmother’s last embrace, her hugging me tightly as if she knew it would be our last time hugging.
I think back to the vivid dream I had when my grandfather passed away nearly 6 months after my grandmother died: A violent storm was brewing and my parents and I were rushing to get the animals and everyone into the barn. I was holding on to a rope tied to a pole as a violent tornado ripped through, the sound of a freight train hurting my ears, as I hung on, clinging for dear life. And then, there was complete silence. I recall walking out of the barn and in the distant green pasture there were children singing, all wearing white. It was peaceful, serene. I turned around abruptly and my grandmother was nearly 2 inches from my face. I saw every wrinkle in her smiling face. Her eyes bright and full of life. I told her sadly: “Grandma, I want to come home”. And she responded, very matter of fact: “One day, when you are old, like me, you will”. And then I awoke. The dream was over. Just like that. Just like life will be one day.
I try to remind myself that although we all are on a separate journey for now, that we ultimately return to a source of love that is an endless well. I’d like to believe this and so I will. That there really is no separation at all, only our skin. And collectively: We are “love”. We are slipping in and out of “skin” continually, over and over again. This brings me a level of peace. Ultimately, I feel God is larger than any organized religion and love is the energy that connects all of us. We are only separate for a brief time. Perhaps, we only “think” we are separate.
I feel that “being” and “embodying” love is more transformative than the act of loving. And so today I will again remind myself that I AM LOVE. We all are. And it is that love that keeps us trying and going when LIFE becomes hard.
Just my thoughts tonight. I realize before long I’ll be entangled in the trees of the forest again. I just hope I can find my way out more quickly. The horizon sure is heavenly from this viewpoint.
I would like to say that learning to love myself was an easy feat for me. It hasn’t been.
The idea of loving oneself sounds easy, but it’s so much more than a thought or feeling. To love oneself, is to embody love and to act accordingly.
The last decade or so has been an onslaught of heartache, disillusionment, and loss. Those I expected love from often fell short of reciprocating it in the way I needed. I gave an immense amount of time, energy, and attention to these individuals and consequently they occupied much of the “space” in my life.
I guess I thought if they loved me and showed their love through action and words, it would be proof that I was lovable and worthy of receiving love. Perhaps, there was a time when I even felt that in order for me to love myself, I must be loved by others. This belief has been shattered, along with many of the dreams that I had for my life. But, that’s ok because this needed to occur for growth and maturity, despite how painful it was at the time.
The absence of love was actually an opportunity, an unexpected open door. In the first few years of this time of growth, grief, and pain; I grew despondent, depressed, and even angry. I expected more from my family, my lover, and even some of my friends. I expected my workplace to be fair and for the world to be softer, gentler, and kind. I was naive and young and my innocence was beginning to fade. I was learning that life was hard and I often felt very alone.
I’ve written pages processing certain losses in my life. Many times, I became stuck on these losses and refused to go near the open door that seemed so warm and inviting, bursting with life. Instead, I stayed, staring at the wreckage. Time stood still. I grew sad, embittered, and fretful. I remained paralyzed in this place of constant fear, worry, and doubt for years. I was anxious, exhausted, and even bewildered, at times. People disappointed me. Most in my life that I knew intimately, had even been dishonest to me in one way or another, perhaps to protect themselves, or even, they felt, to protect me.
The last 4-5 years I set my intention of healing. I had been so sick from the lack of connection in my life, that I was in chronic pain and my anxiety level was through the roof. I had continual stomach issues and my neck and jaw often hurt due to the tension. I was holding a lot of pain inside. Perhaps, I felt I was protecting myself from “breaking”. There were times I felt that if I allowed myself to “feel” the pain, it would certainly overcome me, perhaps I wouldn’t survive it. I was terrified of sitting still and so I was moving constantly, becoming increasingly exhausted and alienated.
I eventually lost employment. Time marched on and out of a desire to feel physically better, I began to do certain things to connect to myself: meditation, singing, being in nature, etc. It was becoming increasingly evident that the greatest loss I had endured was the loss of myself. The years of struggle when I wasn’t loving myself, had left me feeling desperate and often in physical distress. I knew I had to change, but was clueless as to how.
I do feel now that I am resurfacing. Yet, I know that in order for healing to continue to occur, I have to continue to love myself by taking the actions that reinforce and strengthen the growing relationship with myself.
I feel that the things I have craved from others are actually reflections, often times exaggerated even, of what is missing within myself. I get angry and upset at others who are also “sick” and unable to connect and experience intimacy. Some of these people are family members, now permanently disabled from chronic and severe substance abuse. Stepping back, I realize that placing my energy and time in the emotional investment of people where a return is impossible (especially at the moment) is my own way of denying myself the intimacy I deserve. Oh snap! I thought to myself. Could I be engaging in the same actions they are, just in a different way? It is hard to let go of the “dream” of having a family that I can connect to, and yet, at the same time this world is full of people. Aren’t I worthy of finding my “tribe”?
It’s time to salvage what I can with those who at least try with me and invest in those who are in my life. I’ve decided to focus on the goals listed below moving forward. It’s funny that I’ve said some of these before, but I guess it takes time for things to sink in and be truly motivated to change. I am reminded again that I have asked others to change their behavior, but haven’t been consistent in changing mine. I know I’ve been impatient at times and in my grief regarding losing my family, even raged, becoming ugly. This isn’t who I truly am. Perhaps, I can extend compassion and forgiveness to others as I am learning to do so for myself. Old habits are easy and comfortable, and change takes time. I do feel it is coming and am encouraged despite relapsing into old “ways”. I believe in the old adage: “If at first you don’t succeed, try again”. I need to keep trying.
Here are some of my goals:
Meditate at least once daily.
Connect to my higher power, asking for help to “let go” of what I cannot control.
Be mindful, practice mindfulness when taking my dog for walks and while eating a meal.
Reframe the past, including many of the good memories.
When upset, self soothe, use grounding techniques.
Be intentional with how I spend my time and energy.
Ask these questions when a difficult situations arise: Is it mine to handle? Can I realistically do anything to solve this problem? If not, disengage quickly and get involved in an endeavor that is either self soothing or one that redirects my mind.
When negative thoughts surface, challenge them. Don’t believe every thought that comes into my head!
Use my acupuncture mat daily.
So, these are the things I hope to focus on in the coming weeks. Love more, forgive more, and be “lighter”.
On an even more personal note, our family experienced the death of a dear loved one, my sister-n-law, Lisa. She was truly a kind, caring, empathetic, and generous soul. She was a main support to me and was always there to lend an ear during troubled times or give sound advice. I can hear her telling me to “let go”, life is short, and to love from a distance. She knew of my struggles and was always supportive. I will miss her greatly and it is my desire to honor her life by becoming a better person. She will be greatly missed.
Life is often about perspective. I’d like to change mine, one day at a time. Love and light to everyone. Thanks for reading!
I am ready to walk away from the wreckage that has suffocated and trapped me, like a caged songbird, unable to sing and soar, for so long.
I’m tired of being unhappy and devalued. Living in the shadows of a sociopath that has so much power and influence, my voice has often been muted. My actions are continually misunderstood and I’ve endured years of scapegoating, gaslighting, and character smearing. All because some are unwilling to acknowledge the truth and want to continue living in denial and dysfunction. I grow weary of defending what I know to be true and am often alienated because I confront behavior that I know to be reckless and dangerous, even. Admittedly, I’ve sometimes lost my dignity standing up for those who are truly vulnerable in the family system. Nothing feels worse, to me, than watching people you love who are drowning and having members of your family block you from being able to help them. The helplessness I have felt lead to my own hardening and rage.
Today is a new day. I forgive those who have hurt me and my loved ones and I release any hold they ever had on me. I forgive myself for begging for their love, attention, and time; living in an undignified position for so long.
Healing is not a linear process and I will not be surprised if I continue to slip every now and again. But, I do feel there has been change and growth. My ability to recognize and confront gaslighting when it occurs so that it doesn’t keep me “spinning”, has greatly improved. I also am beginning to “rage” less and express my anger more appropriately. For someone who was not allowed to express anger growing up, these steps are progress for me. As a child, and even well into my adult years, I feared expressing anger and repressed it. I felt and believed that “bucking the system” and expressing anger would place my life at risk. And so, I was denied the expression of it. When I finally began to use my voice, I often raged. There were times I even “blacked out” briefly when raging, not knowing how I got from point A to point B. I hold a lot of anger which is often sadness under the surface. I have an immense amount of grieving to do for what I’ve lost in this lifetime. But, for now…. one day at a time, right? And, I am experiencing many more moments of joy now that I have released some of the pain that I was carrying for so long.
I do have many regrets. I wish I had departed years earlier. I wish I had not tried so hard. I wish I had not moved my life, losing money and resources, to try and support relationships and help loved ones who did not value me. I regret the times I lashed out in anger, but more so regret the effort and energy I expended trying to help those struggling that went unnoticed and unappreciated. It’s not that I needed that much from them, but I sacrificed a lot for so little. And ultimately, all I truly wanted was connection in the end.
There are things I do not regret saying or doing.
I will never regret the times I stood up for the vulnerable children and the disabled adults living in the home. I won’t regret the lessons I’ve learned. I’ve learned to value and love myself and have gained a greater appreciation for my capacity to love and to forgive.
I will never regret confronting the dishonesty, gaslighting, emotional abuse, discarding, and stonewalling that I endured. I realize now that I stayed too long and continued to “rage”. I even grew embittered and jaded for awhile. At times, I admit that I became abusive myself. I do not excuse or justify my own mistakes or abuse. I take full accountability for them and wish I would have done better. I was learning how to let go while still holding on and fighting for those I loved. I knew I was losing the fight as nothing changed in the end. I know it got messy and even ugly, at times. I wish I could have just let people go without raging. Still, I do not regret the times I was able to retain my dignity and stand up for myself.
I am still not the greatest at getting my needs met in relationships. I have always gravitated towards those that use me or who are unhealthy. I can see now looking back how sick I was and that much of how I coped was ineffective. That being said, so many of my relationships have been hopeless. I was drawn to those unwilling to connect and I can see this more than likely developed from a lifetime of always longing, but never being satiated, full, or feeling safe when it came to intimacy and connection. I spent my entire life desiring visibility and connection, only to continue demanding it from those who were unwilling to provide it in the way I needed. There were always excuses and justifications as to why connection wasn’t realized. Often, I was blamed for wanting too much. This caused a lot of self loathing, anxiety, and insecurity. It took time for me to believe that I actually wasn’t getting my needs met and it wasn’t my fault. I was not asking for too much, nor was I ever “too much”. It took years of analyzing the behavior of my loved ones to garner the proof I needed to finally understand that those around me were truly struggling and sick in their own way. I spent years trying to convince them to get help to no avail.
The most difficult lesson in all of this was realizing that I had to let go of the dream of ever having a family that was close-knit. I don’t feel a part of my family. They don’t know who I am anymore and they often deny my pain and struggle related to the dysfunction, neglect, and abuse. It has become too hard for our two very different perceptions of the past and present to sit in the same space. I have tried for too many years and I am exhausted, sad, and even in chronic pain from the continual conflict and grief. I know what I have to do and I am taking the steps to do it.
I honestly think I am at the apex of acceptance. I can see looking back that I was unwilling to fully accept the reality that I wasn’t going to have what I wanted in this lifetime.
I wanted a close-knit family.
Because, I was unable to have children, I wanted to be a part of my sister’s grandchildren’s lives.
I wanted my nieces and nephews to heal from their upbringing and be healthy.
I wanted my marriage to work out. When it didn’t, I wanted my second significant relationship to work out.
I wanted to completely recover from the mental health struggles I live with, and instead, I now have additional diagnoses and am living on disability.
I wanted to date again and find true love. I simply want to love someone and be loved in return.
I wanted to have success in my career. I became to sick a few years ago and had to get onto disability so that I could take the time to recover as well as have a continuity of care. I am still struggling to get all my medical needs met (particularly with the pandemic).
I wanted to have a home one day and financial stability. This looks unlikely, but who knows?
And so, some of the above may not ever be realized. I am determined to start small.
Forgive myself. Forgive others.
Live in the present.
Enjoy what simple pleasures the day offers.
Stretch and sing more.
Do more of what makes me happy and joyful.
Set realistic goals and celebrate achieving them.
I am no longer in a race against others, nor will I compare myself to their successes or struggles.
I am me. I am ok. I am enough. And, most importantly, I am healing.
It is hard work. It is a process. And, the journey along the way is more precious and profound than any destination point a long the way.
I’ll be posting from time to time these moments of JOY. That is what I want my focus to be on in the end.
I accept what I have lost, but will do my best to no longer dwell on it, losing more precious time.
The following are pics from a little trip I took to Boulder City, NV and Hoover Dam. This area, along with a few others, are places I am considering moving to in time. Life is taking another turn. This time, I want my eyes to be wide open and my heart less heavy!
The following video is one I created using an older blog post and stock images from Storyblocks.com. I am new to this process, but decided to go ahead and share. I am hoping to develop my skills in creating videos and then post them to YouTube, as well as my blog.
This post is about letting go and forgiving both the self and others after surviving trauma. I have lived through the childhood trauma of being molested at the tender age of 4 by a next-door neighbor. In my adult life, I have lived through two abusive relationships, one with someone I had planned to marry and another with my nuclear family. The video below takes a post that I wrote a few years back, and uses the imagery of a snowstorm as a metaphor of letting go and forgiving, thus becoming “lighter in life”. Snow always covers up the rougher edges of life and instills calm and peace. I hope you enjoy!
Looking back at the last few years, I wonder, how I even survived it all. Watching helplessly as my family was annihilated by addiction and sociopathy while at the same time, being devalued, discarded, and invalidated by my own mother. Constantly signaling alarm, seeing the writing on the wall, and forecasting the devastation with surprising accuracy… but doing so alone and alienated. And doing so while being gaslighted, shift-blamed, stone-walled, and discredited. It has been really hard. And it has hurt me, both physically and emotionally.
The times I’ve dropped to the floor wincing in pain, sobbing loudly. Or the times, I’ve had to take a muscle relaxer or two and an Ativan to be able to breathe, because I am holding the tension and my breathe so tightly that I become fearful that I might soon find myself in the ER. Submerging my body into the hot bath water I poured with Epsom salts, trying my best to regain balance and bring myself back to baseline. This is Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (C-PTSD). And this is what it causes for me.
I have lost my ability to work for now and am doing my best to rebound after relapsing and becoming severely depressed. I even have experienced difficultly swallowing for nearly a year (still struggle somewhat) and lost 80 pounds in a short 6 months. And the last year, as the Coronavirus raged on, so did my rage with my family as it became more evident that my sister’s wrath towards me was intentional and my Mother’s complacency more visible than ever. I was told by my sister that I was hated, no longer part of the family, and denied the joyous occasion of the birth of my great nephew. I reacted to the abuse, at times, poorly, I admit. And yet, it dawned on me this year that I was in a losing battle. Nothing I could say or do would prevent my sister’s manifesto to character smear me and destroy any familial bonds I had left. My pleas for her to get help for her addiction fell on deaf ears, while she continued to deny and lie her way through losing custody of her grandchild and him testing positive for ingesting Meth. Even my own mother lied to cover up that my great nephew, a 3 year old, tested positive for ingesting meth. These lies, among other abusive tactics made to equate my reactions to the abuse to the ACTUAL abuse that was occurring, further alienated me from my family during a time the whole world was dealing with the alienation surrounding a “global pandemic”. When commercials on TV boasted of “staying home” and how family was so important, mine was becoming blown apart at the seems.
There were weeks that I was wrapped up, consumed, and lost in the grief of losing an entire family, knowing instinctively, and through years of observation, that it wasn’t just an addiction, but sociopathy that wreaked havoc on every member of my family. And while doing so, my Mom turned a blind eye to the pain and devastation that kept mounting for all of us. My step-Dad was never present, nor was he a part of any endeavor to protect us. And so, now what is left, is an epic mess of a broken and disordered family system that is too fractured to reconcile. It would take a miracle of sorts to fix what has been broken. Two family members are now severely mentally disabled due to the drug use and the deep neglect and enabling they endured when they took the same road as their mother. One is quickly speeding towards disability as we speak. Another has lost custody of her two children and is in rehab, but this situation remains tenuous and fragile, especially if she goes back to the same environment where she was using. And as for me, there does come a point where you have to walk away and say ENOUGH is ENOUGH. I do realize that so much of the devastation is being perpetuated by historical cycles of abuse and the negative coping mechanisms resulting from having endured it. My mother, sister, and step-father all have their own personal struggles and I do feel they often are completely unaware and divorced from their own negative ways of coping that are hurtful to me. Some of what they do that is hurtful is not intentional, but it does not dismiss the complacency that often follows and the lack of action that occurs after an apology. My attempts to have equal power and influence in the family, whereby my needs are met, are often ignored and not acted on and it just ends up a very negative and damaging cycle. When I attempt to get my needs met with my sister, it is often met with disdain and abuse and I am belittled and quickly discarded and ignored.
I deserve a safe, loving, kind family. One that cares to call and check in on me and ask about my life.
And so, I am writing this today as I wish to again ACCEPT the devastation and MOVE FORWARD. Writing about the pain might help others reading know that they are not alone. Some pain, especially involving “family hurts”, truly runs deep.
Some days, I go back and massage the hurts and again, feel the depth of what I lost. I still feel in many ways, perhaps, at least with my sister, that I haven’t had much of an amenable, reciprocal relationship for decades now. Putting the words down on paper, visibly, helps to provide the distance needed to heal.
It allows me to validate my own inner experience while simultaneously having hope that someone out there is reading this and relating and feels less lonely in their struggle.
It is hard sometimes. But, we survive the hard days when accepting the truth. I am surviving them by also expressing my truth. I do so, anymore, unapologetically. I do so now without self-loathing. In time, I will be past the pain and will be in a different spot altogether. Until then, this is how I am moving forward and surviving the loss.
My life has the potential to be peaceful and fulfilling. I am slowly releasing the grip history has had on me. I am writing my own script and practicing compassion and forgiveness.
And I am releasing and distancing from any and all expectations I have from my “family”.
I realize every individual in my family has their own struggle, their own pain, and their own ways of coping…. be it positive or negative. I will not return to the negative ways of coping. There is a new dawn and I will not fear flying solo when I’ve learned over time that I have already been doing so… just with so much weight on my wings.
I am OK and I am ENOUGH.
In ways this global pandemic has overshadowed and paralleled my own personal struggles and fears. It has forced me to look inward, while at the same time, providing a bird’s eye view of both the tragedy and miracle of life. It has given me pause to appreciate what I have taken for granted, while affording the time to accept “what is” and work to create the space and distance needed to provide peace.
I feel we are living in extraordinarily spiritual times. And my road has lead me down a path of solitude for now. I may get a little lost at times, but I am on the path towards forgiveness and compassion.
The words above, which were “stamped” on a sidewalk in the Miracle Mile District of Los Angeles where I live, captured my attention and imagination enough for me to stop for a moment and take a photograph. Although I have no idea who placed them there, the words resonated with me, stirring a sense of comfort and peace. While at the same time, admittedly, I had to acknowledge that I wasn’t feeling all that “loved” lately. Fights with my family and the culture of hate on social media, had left me, at times, feeling “less than worthy”, and often disillusioned. I felt isolated and alone, a lot.
And then, suddenly, out of the depth of despair and years of suffering, I was granted a miracle of sorts. A true gift of light and hope that was as unexpected, as it was simple and serene. It was if all the years of hard work of separation, self-reflection, and creating boundaries, had finally “paid off”. I had proved, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I loved myself. And yet, in realizing this victory, I quickly gained insight and awareness into a much larger and all-encompassing love. I feel I have reached another summit, and although I feel free from what caged me, I feel a deeper sense of responsibility to embody the essence of what I had missed in my life.
A seed was planted within my daily practice of meditation that has shifted my perspective and purpose. Because my past trauma had left me feeling fearful and unsafe, I set out to cultivate a sense of “home” within myself. So much of my time in the past was spent in desperate efforts to fill the a painful void that only perpetuated the cycle of feeling devalued, unseen, and unsafe. I relentlessly pursued the elusive high that was always fleeting and unattainable. I found this temporary pulse of life in romantic interests and in gambling, but both of these often left me feeling more empty and disillusioned in the end. Over time, it became evident that the old and ineffective ways of coping had only served to make me a servant of suffering.
It took time to unravel the jumbled up and knotted yarn of my life. In the beginning, the prospect of sorting out what my mine to hold and what was mine to “let go” seemed overwhelming and daunting. I would start and stop this process many times over, sometimes wondering if I made any progress at all. The messy ball of yarn, heaped on the floor, sat untouched, for months at a time, especially when preoccupation took the place of processing pain. Inevitably, however, my suffering always lead me back to unraveling a few more knots. As time passed, I grew more compassionate and patient with myself. Healing became a “way of life” and my expectation to reach a destination became less of the focus. The knots became easier to untangle when I was less frustrated with myself and when I decided to no longer judge the process or the duration of it. I became more gentle with myself and mindful of the emotional weight lifted when I accepted that I was alone, but was “ok”.
It was during these times alone with myself, meditating, that I discovered my purest voice. There was a growing presence within me that was becoming louder and more confident. I felt on an instinctual level that if I sat long enough in the stillness, I would know how to heal myself. I was using a meditation app on my phone and would listen to music that I found not only soothing, but spiritual. It was in these times when I was most alone, that I felt most connected. I began to chant phrases that ultimately were transformative. I did so on an instinctual level as doing so just made sense to me at the time.
Some of the phrases I chanted were as follows:
I am peace.
I am light.
I am forgiveness.
I am joy.
I am love.
I am resiliency.
I am relaxation.
I am stillness.
In chanting these simple statements, a sense of serenity flooded me. Not only did I feel “connected”, I felt that I could more readily embody each “state”. Different words had their own effect and yet each one felt universal and brought me a sense of community and acceptance. By chanting these simple statements, my perspective shifted and I began to soften and trust myself and the universe a bit more. It was nearly like I was “bending towards the sunshine” and separating from that which had “caged” my little song bird, rendering her silent all these years. The wall of brick and mortar began to crumble and light was flooding in, bringing warmth. I don’t feel this would have occurred had I not set stronger boundaries to facilitate the safe space that I was cultivating for myself.
I had spent years defining parameters and doing the hard work of separating myself from people and situations that were unhealthy. In the beginning, like the knotted up yarn, this seemed nearly futile, I gave up a lot. I wanted immediate gratification and was often impatient and desperate, willing to accept the crumbs, instead of the cake. I didn’t believe I was worthy and I accepted too much and demanded very little. And so, I grew bitter at what life had handed me.
Then there were the years I spent angry and raging, demanding the love I felt I deserved from others in my life: those who had abandoned me or perhaps, looking back now, where never truly there to begin with. These were the hardest years of my life. I lost a person whom I called “the love of my life”. I separated from my family, all who were struggling in their own ways and not capable of compromise. I spent an inordinate amount of time trying to be visible to those I loved, but it was to no avail. It had become so unhealthy for me that I knew I had to “let go”, separate, and recreate myself in a new space. In many ways, I felt I had lost “home”. The process of separating was extremely difficult and exhausting. Partially, because I kept “going back”, dragging my feet, and putting off the inevitable.
And now, after years of persistence and the commitment to myself to “heal”, I nearly feel like I have went through a true metamorphosis. Much of the weight I was carrying has been released. The space I am cultivating around me is safe and peaceful, it feels like “home”. My daily meditations often come with the gifts of hearing more of the music and feeling more connected to others. There appears to be an endless amount of self love and connection to others when awake in the present moment. My mind is less preoccupied with the unattainable goal of “changing others” and “winning their acceptance” and more focused on cultivating a sense of “home” within myself and around me. And oddly enough, even with the isolation of the coronavirus, I am participating more in support groups and feeling more connected to my environment and to myself. Music and meditation brings me peace and “company” as I can often “pick up” separate instruments and voices within the songs and it makes me feel connected and grounded to others. I have begun to truly appreciate the human contribution of “art” and “comfort” that exists in my life and all around me as my mind is less preoccupied on the “hopeless” and more awakened to the “hopeful”.
And to this I am grateful.
Life isn’t perfect by any stretch of the imagination. And there are still times I slip, returning briefly to the suffering. I am, however, more quick to address the pain, sit with it and process it, instead of being paralyzed or consumed by it. I also am a lot more patient with myself when this occurs.
The most surprising revelation I’ve had during the process of healing is how we truly are not “alone”. Even if some of us choose spending more time with ourselves, pets, nature, etc. than others, one only has to look around or play some music to be filled with all the gifts and comforts that are created by humanity. I have found a lot of peace from living in the moment, with eyes and ears open, enjoying the beauty in life that surrounds me. It is a true gift. Love and light on your journey towards wholeness!
As I was sharing my recent heartache and experiences with my therapist the other day, he stopped me to explain his role as a mandatory reporter. Therapists, as well as other medical providers, teachers, etc. are trained to recognize the abuse and or neglect of children or vulnerable individuals and report the occurrence to the authorities so that it can be investigated. Individuals trained in this manner are called “mandatory” reporters because, by law, they are required to report any alleged incidents of abuse or neglect of a vulnerable individual. Both my mother and I are “mandatory reporters” because we both have worked in the healthcare system and have received the training that now requires us to report. This isn’t the first time a therapist has stopped a session to explain that he or she may need to report the abuse or neglect that has occurred in my sister’s home. In fact, it has happened with nearly every therapist I have seen. I haven’t had any therapist tell me that they have followed through with a call, but it is likely they have.
This has got me to thinking about a few things. For one, I have made a few calls to both Child Protective Services (CPS) and to Adult Protective Services (APS) over the past few years. To my knowledge, my mother has never called CPS or APS to file a concern regarding the well being of her great-grandchild or her disabled, adult grandchildren. Although, we both have been trained to report incidents of abuse and neglect, I find it odd that my mother has never done so. Often, my mother and I disagree over the extent of the abuse and I feel she not only downplays it, but doesn’t want to acknowledge it or even discuss it. This has left the responsibility up to me to report and has often left me feeling like “I’m the bad guy” for “telling on the family”. The lack of adults who have knowledge of the abuse, but who have not reported it, have left the grand baby and disabled adults vulnerable to potential danger. Because of my willingness to confront the abuse head on and even report it a time or two, I’ve endured shame, scapegoating, gaslighting, and abandonment.
Meanwhile, continued episodes of abuse and neglect occur with no real consequences that could possibly change things for the better while providing protection to those who are vulnerable there. Instead, over time, I have had to grieve and let go, walking away with pangs of guilt for “abandoning” those I know to be struggling there. The system (CPS) simply doesn’t have “enough” information or resources to investigate and move forward on the claims I’ve made. And, my Mom and sister downplay the chaos and drama that continually enfolds there, calling me “overly dramatic” and/or “controlling”. I have left because after years of confronting and fighting for respect and visibility in my family, I have been dismissed as difficult, abusive, and disrespectful. Granted, I have become very ugly with my Mom for not “taking my side” when I’ve confronted the addiction that I feel has substantially ruined 5 lives already. I have brought up the SAME concerns to my mother that I have to therapists only to be ignored, discarded, or dismissed by her. This struggle has lead to feelings of despair and alienation, and ultimately has lead to me feeling I have to “walk away” for my own health and sanity. I do not feel my mom dismisses me knowingly and intentionally. Instead, I believe her responses to be a result of her own ineffective ways of dealing with trauma that were formed early in her life.
It was in this LAST therapy session that it truly dawned on me how ALONE I have been in this fight against the addiction that has caused so much hurt and annihilation in my family. I “took note” this time when my therapist noted the severity of the situation as I casually discussed the violence and drug abuse that continually erupts in and around my sister’s house. It wasn’t until a day or two later that the therapist’s response began to weigh heavily on my mind. The information that I had relayed to the therapist was the same information that my mother has received on multiple occasions, but had neglected to question it and report it so that it could be investigated. Often, my mother would decline following up or reporting, using the mantra that “no one really knows what’s going on” anyway. As long as she could claim some level of ignorance on things, she would do so.
And yet, as time moved forward there has been more episodes of violence, incidents of drug use, and crime. Not to mention no adults (there are 6 of them) who reside in my sister’s home work. Two are disabled as a result of their drug use and I question their ability to work. The other two, I assume actively use, as they both were supposed to be in rehab recently, but one left treatment, the other might still be on a waiting list. Both of them only decided to consider rehab after getting in trouble to avoid certain consequences. Again, evidence that consequences actually can cause an individual to receive help. I acknowledge that is just the first step. But, often our family has “failed” at getting people to the first step because they have enabled them and thus they do not experience the consequences that might provide them with an opportunity to seek treatment.
Over time, I’ve learned that it is not only addiction, but Narcissistic Personality Disorder, that has caused so much pain and devastation to me and my family. My sister, simply put, continues to cause damage while my mother enables her behavior. And thus, everyone outside of that codependent relationship is actually quite sick. Either they are using substances and are in the throes of “active addiction”, or they are permanently disabled due to severe and persistent mental illness. They have not been well enough to manage their lives and heal from the significant trauma of being raised by two people who struggled with chronic addiction issues. And the parents never really invested in their future by providing them with a basic education and the tools needed to be independent. Instead, my nieces and nephews essentially “raised themselves” in their adolescent years with little to no oversight. The neglect was extreme and they were not protected from chaos that was continually brought in by the constant traffic of individuals struggling with significant addiction issues. In fact, the family endured the death of a three year old that my sister often baby-sat that resulted from a caretaker beating her to death because she knocked that individual’s “fix” off the table. After the traumatic death of this child, I tried again to get my sister help for her addiction and urged my sister to surround herself AND her kids with healthier adults. My pleas fell on deaf ears, the drug use continued, and not more than two years later my sister’s kids experienced the traumatic near death of their mother due to needle use.
Even so, no one would stand with me and confront my sister’s drug use and she went back to using after healing enough to do so. I’m not sure if she used needles after the incident, but she definitely was using again on and off. Although I urged my mother many times to join me in confronting the addiction, my mom dug in deep and continued to dismiss my concerns. There were times she “agreed that there was a problem”, but it never seemed to her, severe enough to join my efforts in confronting it. I stood alone in the storm and over time this has completely eroded the relationship between my mother and me. To me, it has felt like a refusal to acknowledge the depth of the addiction and the neglect it caused. I predicted long ago when my sister began using very heavily that my bonds between my family and me would nearly be destroyed. More than a decade later, after years of screaming into dead space, I am walking away from the trauma that caged me. It has been traumatic for me to watch my nieces and nephews all struggle with addiction issues, many times leading to arrests, incarceration, abusive relationships, and near overdoses. The struggle with my sister was hard enough, but it has been multiplied times 5 over the past decade as I watched one by one my nieces and nephews surrender to the throes of addiction. I watched as no one walked across their high school stage to receive a diploma and each of them became more engaged in drugs and criminal activity. At one point, I even watched as my niece went back to her abusive husband who was reported to have assaulted my niece’s father and had even held her hostage at gunpoint. I continued to confront and fight for my niece for a whole year while hearing that her husband was “drugging” her and controlling communication. As an individual with a diagnosis of C-PTSD and a history of childhood trauma it took a lot of time for me to “let go”. It was made even harder because no one else in my family wanted to join me in the endeavor of confronting my sister’s kids and getting them help. I often felt I was the only one seeing and acknowledging the devastation. Things continued to be normalized and I became the “problem” of my family.
Over this past year, I acknowledged I was powerless in this fight. I was not only being stonewalled and character smeared by my sister, but my mother also continually dismissed my concerns and often either rationalized away things or defended my sister. Stuck in this spiral of never feeling heard, I surrendered to the reality that I was completely ineffective in “reaching” those in my family struggling with addiction. As a result, I have slowly and painfully given up “the fight”. It was destroying my health and I decided to “cut ties”, heal, and wait to reconnect in distant ways after I grieve the loss. So, in the midst of a global pandemic when many are reconnecting and becoming closer, I have “let go” and have become more isolated. It’s difficult, but it is what it is.
So, when my current therapist stopped me during our session to share his role in mandatory reporting, it struck me AGAIN that it wasn’t only me who found the behavior of my sister and her adult kids concerning for the child who is being raised in the home. In ways, my therapist’s response was validating to a certain extent.
I believe one of the most difficult things in dealing with a dysfunctional family, besides feeling alienated and often invisible, is the shame that society places on “airing dirty laundry”. We are told to hold the secrets inside because there is great shame and stigma associated with revealing the dysfunction in our families. This further compounds the issues of isolation and can lead an individual to go “over the edge”. And often, this leads to an individual feeling as if they cannot “relate” to others. I want to “break the silence” and the “mold” that is telling those who suffer, to do so silently. The silent epidemic of sheltering and hiding dysfunction is deadly, for some.
Ultimately, I would love to one day work with and write about the trauma and pain associated with the forced shroud of silence surrounding family abuse and neglect. We heal when bring things into the light, which can lead us from confusion to clarity. We heal when we can separate our story from the historical cycles of shame and guilt. Although it can be a brutally messy process, light and truth is required to separate ourselves from the ancient chatter that binds us to the darkness of our past. The darkness that people want to ignore, to burry, and to even deny, is what must be bravely examined in the light so that separation can occur. We must go on a journey of self discovery, and “shed” the skin we were sealed in as a result of cyclic shame and loss. It is in this space, where we are increasingly becoming aware of our loss of attachment to our past, that we begin to sense freedom from it. This is the space where separation results in accountability and ownership, and ultimately the empowerment to “take flight”. It is in this same space, where we are able to cultivate compassion for our past mistakes and willingly forgive ourselves and others. We begin to open our conscious to the collective suffering of humanity and, despite it all, we become curious about our infinite potential to create and sustain our own peace and stillness. Standing in the light, recognizing the shadows that have been laid to rest on the ground beside us, allows us to fix our vision and gaze on the vast horizon ahead. I’d like to think this space is where the “magic” happens and the “mystery” of life is renewed. We once again view the world with childlike excitement, but with the strength and resolve of an adult. It’s a rebirth where separation occurs, boundaries are drawn, and mastery is refined.
The curtain where the “wizard” was pulling the strings has been drawn. Light is flooding in and, in the beginning, this causes disappointment, disbelief, anger, and even pain. But, what comes to pass is that we realize, much like Dorothy did in The Wizard of Oz, that “home” was within our grasp all along. We can take ourselves where we like. The light that floods in reveals we’ve always had a “heart, a brain, and courage”.
With the curtain pulled back on my life, I can easily see what is mine and what is theirs. There is now full transparency and although, initially painful, I realize that it is up to me to go forward, separating myself from the shame and suffering that caged me.
I feel a sense of stability in this newly formed space that I have begun to cultivate all on my own. And I’m proud that I am no longer part of the “status quo”. I’m moving forward, even if a bit isolated and alone. I trust that I will bring people, love, and light into my life while protecting myself from needless noise and chaos. Land, undefined, is finally gaining definition and taking form. Finding myself in this space is freeing, while, at the same time I feel more anchored and resolved. This is my life. It is messy and imperfect, but it is also full of forgiveness and love. And this is just the beginning. I’m shedding the cocoon to flutter, fully in the light, with less cares and worry. Life is lighter. And the space around me is finally mine. ❤️ 🦋❤️
I feel as if I am here on borrowed time, having slipped in to someone else’s skin, never quite feeling as if things are familiar. I have but one foot on the ground.
I’m not sure if I have ever felt truly safe. The kind of safe that just feels good all over where the body can just let go and melt into the surroundings, feeling no separation from it. I feel restless and uncomfortable here. I seem to get so close to what I want, only to realize I’m too far away to reach it, that I’ll never truly know what it’s like to feel satiated or secure. I blame no one for this strained and rushed reality, where my dreams are constantly interrupted by fitful nights of waking, disoriented and fearful.
And yet, I do feel an unraveling of sorts. And, I feel a renewed sense of accountability which can be very empowering. When I find that I am again clinging to old habits, desires, and distorted thinking; I am able to quickly identify that I am doing so. There is a lot of shame that is bound to engaging in the old and ineffective coping mechanisms that I have employed for years. I’ve learned that my thoughts and behaviors are not so easy to change. Thoughts will come and go, if allowed to do so, but some are so heavy and sticky for me, that I get stuck there for awhile, becoming stubborn and unwilling to move. There have been so many times I have had the intention in my heart to “let go” and just live more freely, in the moment. And yet, my system seems to be hardwired to recognize the existential threat of being “abandoned” or left alone and I clamp down harder, unable to release. I become easily swept away in the turmoil of what was left after someone I loved repeatedly left me or abandoned me on an emotional level. I’m now somewhere in the midst of releasing the tight grip I have had on my expectations of others and moving more towards accepting the responsibility of independently constructing my own security and stillness. This is challenging for me. I have to remind myself to cultivate self compassion, not only in thought, but in action. It is ridiculously easy for me to backslide into the oblivion of rage, depression, and fear. When I do so, however, I am more likely now to forgive myself and acknowledge that the pain and trauma of the past is blocking my progress.
I am trying very hard to be honest with myself. There are times I wonder if I am allowing my pain to go on “too long”. If I so desperately want out of this, then why then do I keep going back to massage the broken glass that continues to cut me so deeply? Isn’t it time to stop revisiting the past? Aren’t I ready to do so? In some ways, doing so terrifies me. Sometimes I feel the pain and rage is all I have left of the connection that has been so devastatingly lost. I realize going back again and again only keeps me trapped and tied to it, but it is so hard to walk away from the pulse of life and love that has now dissipated like the vapors of fog on a sunny day. I could go bask in the warmth of the sun, but instead I continue to look back, a bit lost, struggling to accept that the people I love are no longer with me. I remind myself that I have no other choice, but to go forward. Staying in this space is actually stagnating me, it is suffocating. And I recognize, that only I can pull myself away from the wreckage and move forward. I guess it truly is time to do so.
I have allowed my world to become very small. I have based a lot of my decisions to “shut down” and “turn off” on past relationships and the trust that was destroyed. Multiple incidents of betrayed trust in my personal life, along with enduring toxic work environments where I was discriminated against, lead to my complete resignation and unwillingness to try anymore. I gave up. This was reinforced by examples both large and small of hate and depravity that I could see playing out through stories enfolding on the news and in the ways people treated one another on social media. I didn’t want to be part of a world that I felt I could never trust again. I am still very much on the fence when it comes to trusting others. Still yet, I sometimes feel I am unable to trust myself and my own reactions, especially when swept away in fear and sadness. Often, this is masked in rage. I recognize it would be in my best interest to “soften”. I step back a few feet and I can see much evidence that so many of us are struggling in these ways. It is why we continually “miss one another”. The experiences of my past are often clouding my judgment and I form opinions of people and situations without having even actually experienced them in an open and accepting way. It is so easy to let the past dictate present reality, not truly ever being present. This is why I believe trauma robs us of so much, not only in our past, but in our daily lives. Especially if we don’t recognize what is occurring and neglect to work to open up again, experiencing the present moment non-judgmentally, as it enfolds.
I realize that I have a choice to make. My health, both physically and mentally, is unable to withstand staying “on the fence”. I either have to become resolute in my decision to heal completely, or settle with staying locked in the space where I continue sifting through the wreckage. There is nothing left there and I realize it is time to move on, even if doing so seems difficult. I have to find a way not only to forgive myself for “going back” again and again, but for the time it has taken from me in doing so. And I must aggressively forge ahead . I must leave the ship wreck on the shore and blaze a new trail of adventures for myself. And, I must do so with intention and purpose. My greatest challenge going forward will be to remain engaged in the present moment, not allowing the past to color every interaction and relationship I pursue. If I can do this, I will feel liberated. I cannot remain chained to what the past held when I am creating a new life for myself. It is time to truly leave the nest. I am ready. I must leave with the intention of flying with my eyes wide open, non-judgmentally, seeing the world AS IT IS, clinging to nothing. That is how you fly! And in time, without fully realizing what you have accomplished, you will be spreading your wings, soaring, and landing in a spot where you are alone in your stillness, but deeply at peace.
This place of serenity and stillness is one of feeling connected, but not clingy. It is one of openness, not fear. It is a place where you feel grounded by the efforts and actions of the self-care that you routinely took to get you here. I believe it is a space, once truly found and appreciated, that you protect and guard, not out of fear, but out of the desire to maintain and enjoy. Once perched on a tall branch, resting from flight, there is little desire to return to a space where you were once caged, stagnating. I believe this to be true, and I am so ready. I am trusting that everything I have went through and learned has prepared me for flight. I often want to “hurry up” the process, but I trust what I am learning from my struggles to do so is purposeful. Perhaps, I will one day be able to help others feel less so alone, because they too struggled “leaving their nest”.
I am setting boundaries that will enable me to refocus and fly. I am not entirely happy with how I have raged and have lost dignity, at times, with those that I have struggled to leave. There are certain relationships in my life that have to be completely put to rest as they continue to be damaging and entrapping. Admittedly, I am the one that keeps going back seeking connection and then realizing I am unable to stay when things are so dysfunctional and unhealthy. I also am potentially harmful to their healing process as we are on separate trajectories. I actually do hope those in my life struggling with addiction or the enabling of it can heal and move their lives forward. If I could “stay on” and somehow graciously accept their struggle and their current inability to engage in healthier ways, I would. The problem is I fail miserably at this and I become consumed again, losing focus becoming not only ineffective, but angry and hostile. No one wins and the wreckage decays further.
And so, another piece about leaving and “letting go”. Another post where I am readying myself for flight. I sometimes feel I should already by flying, but judging myself for not leaving earlier will only serve to keep me trapped in feelings of shame and low self worth. Instead, I will focus on today and what I can do to enjoy this moment. Because, this moment is all that we truly really have. This moment is all that matters in the end. And if I can wholly embrace the potential in this moment, and live fully embracing the gift within it, then I believe in time that I will feel more “at home” here. After, all we are only here “on borrowed time”. These moments count and no one knows when we will be “slipping out”, into the unknown. We only know that we all made it here, thrust into the light and breathed into, and one day we will leave this space. In the interim, we are on “borrowed time”, and every moment counts.
Enjoy each and every moment of your day. Love and light!
I am in a lot of personal pain that is stemming from the dissolution of my family. I guess I thought, by some stretch of a fantastical imagination and misguided hope, that the threat of a deadly global pandemic might somehow bring my broken family closer. I am reminded daily by “warm and fuzzy” commercials on TV and the professionals on the news, to connect and reach out to family and friends during these difficult times. This only serves to crush me further, because in doing so over the past two weeks, I have only felt more devalued and disillusioned by the continued chaos that continually erupts from my family. The chaos that quickly entraps me in old, ineffective coping mechanism from years of being gaslighted, devalued, and discarded. The chaos that has taken the lives and potential of my young adult nieces and nephews and has left two of them disabled and the other two in the throes of active addiction. The chaos that has lead to the erosion of the relationship with my aging mother whose denial has lead to me feeling muted and silenced.
And yet, I know, that I am the only one that can walk away from the devastation, the confusion, and the unbearable weight which has left my health in a state of deterioration and decay. I have been wasting away, unable to “swallow” the grief and pain of not only losing my family to addiction, but also to the personality disorder I now believe my sister has: Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD). I have hesitated in the past to “label” her negligence and ineffective coping as NPD, but time has provided too many experiences where the “mask” has been stripped, revealing a crystal clear picture of the tactics that narcs commonly employ to erode the confidence and credibility of their victims. This reality has made my decision to leave and “let go” a difficult one as her adult children are suffering greatly. They live in a remote and rural area, are uneducated and live in poverty, and they do not have the skills or resources to leave the situation. They do not have phone service and their access to internet is limited. Because they are also in the throes of addiction, they are even more vulnerable to my sister as they are dependent currently on her for transportation, food, and housing. Her kids grew up in chaos and never acquired an education or the skills to work. I have remained engaged lot longer than I normally would, in attempts to gain support from my mother so that we could together try and help her struggling kids work toward independence. These attempts were often met with deep resistance and denial from my Mom who wants to continue to believe the lies and confusion of the web that my sister spins that make it nearly impossible to break through and have any amount of sustained change. I have tried for years now, only to the detriment of my own health and sanity, while relationships continued to erode and disintegrate.
Weeks ago, before the Coronavirus Outbreak became a daily reality, I was at peace in my decision to “let go” of my family and focus on my time and attention of rebuilding my life in a more balanced and peaceful way. I even set up a volunteer opportunity with NAMI and I chose a local church that I would start attending. Within a week of doing so, the world was turned upside down by the daily reality we now are living: social distancing, staying at home to save lives, and helplessly watching as many are impacted by the deadly virus that is circling the globe.
With uncertainty and fear looming, I made the decision to “reach out” to my family again and to try and remain “connected” during this difficult time and encourage my family to “remain inside”. My initial goal was just to make sure they knew how serious the threat was as my family lives in Tennessee and their state was not taking things that seriously at the time. My good intentions were again thwarted by chaos and confusion when my disabled niece, who became sick with pneumonia, went to the hospital twice, unaccompanied by anyone to advocate for her. Because of her level of incompetence, she ended up leaving the hospital against the medical advice of being admitted (the first visit), and the second time she just “walked out”, leaving our family in a panic to find her. The police were called to locate her and eventually she was brought home. Tension rose as I had strongly encouraged my sister to go with my niece if she had to go to the hospital a second time, because my niece has significant mental health issues and lacks good judgment. When she went missing from the hospital, I became angry, as well as concerned. The situation was made a lot worse over the next couple of days when my niece’s separated husband (who has abused her in the past & has had a recent arrest and drug issues) was allowed to just come up “unannounced” to my sister’s home and take my niece with him. This caused a great deal of friction between my family, as I had hoped while she was still sick she would stay resting at home. Not to mention that my niece’s mental state was compromised as she had not been taking her medication and was still sick showing symptoms of pneumonia. I acknowledged that my sister and mom may have not been able to prevent her from going, but I did not feel they tried hard enough to prevent her from going. I also pointed out that my sister’s “lack of boundaries”, where my niece’s abusive husband feels comfortable dropping by anytime, unannounced, is problematic for my niece who was sick at the time and exercises poor judgment. Avoiding going into anymore details, things deteriorated from there and as a result, I have again felt the need to protect myself by disengaging and “letting go”.
As depressed as this is making me, I felt a responsibility to write publicly about my struggle, because I know there are others in similar situations. I went in with the good intentions of connecting to my family during a time when everyone is encouraging others to connect, to appreciate life and each other, and ,ultimately, I regret doing so. Some of us do not have the supportive structures in our families to gain comfort from them and it can “backfire” and lead to additional stress, anxiety, and depression. For a few days, my mental status was derailed and I was triggered, showing signs of mania and increased rumination. I even felt suicidal, at times, although I knew deep down I did not actually want to die. For me, and maybe for others, reaching out to our families may not be a wise idea. For some of us, our families are chaotic and can cause additional strain and anxiety.
For those of you feeling alone and struggling through this uncertain time without the support from your family or even friends, please know you are valued. I feel this is the perfect opportunity for me to value myself by engaging in healing endeavors, like yoga, meditation, art, music, etc. I acknowledge the past few days, I became swept up again in the disillusionment and depression that interacting with my family causes. I am still raw and “bleeding” and it wasn’t the right time for me to engage, and yet, the media outlets with their “warm and fuzzy” commercials, had me feeling all nostalgic. I lost my compass for a few days on a fantasy of family connection that deep down I knew would be “too good to be true”. Healing takes time and I went back with hope in my heart that was eventually dashed. However, more importantly, I was reminded that I alone am ENOUGH and I intend to spend the next few days cultivating forgiveness and love.
There may be a time in the future where I have acquired the skills to interact with my family without being “pulled in” and becoming ungrounded. Until, that time comes, I will do my best to remain disengaged with my family, while engaging in self-care and compassion, daily. I recognize when I do so, an enormous amount of space is freed up within me, that brings clarity and peace. I just went back “too soon, too early”.
For those of you in similar situation, please know how valuable and worthy you are and that YOU, ALONE, ARE ENOUGH. This troubled and scary time will pass and there will be more concrete ways that we can move forward in our healing processes. It can feel like we are suspended, and it can cause some to lose hope. Please take comfort that I am here, like you, in this same space, feeling somewhat alone and fearful, at times. But, as all things do, it will pass. If we know anything about life, we know that change is the one constant we have. I hope you take comfort in my words and take care of yourself today. Even if you feel you can connect to certain loved ones right now for support and solace, Know you are not alone, and will make it through. Hopefully we will even learn something about ourselves in the process: That we are that strong, resilient, and ENOUGH.