I had an interesting therapy session recently. I’m not sure if it was the delivery of the message or if I was just more ready to receive it, but my viewpoint of “Self-Care” was transformed in this short space of time. The concept of “Self-Care” had suddenly become more defined, palpable, and even attainable. I had always approached taking care of myself as somewhat of a chore, as if these are the things that I need to do over time that might someday, in the far off distant future, have some elusive benefit. I saw self care as the mundane activities of life: like exercising, brushing my teeth/flossing, maintaining adequate sleep, etc. Many more times than not, I failed to practice self care consistently because the benefit wasn’t immediately available to me. Routines and consistency are difficult for me as I am wired a bit differently. I was diagnosed as ADHD in 1976, years ago, and have always struggled to maintain order in my life.
However, this time, what I heard, prompted me to pause and rethink the concept of Self Care. My therapist noticed that I am often “burning the candle at both ends”. I don’t give my system the space and time to be still and at rest. Yet, it was what he said next that transformed this concept further for me. He said in short, do what makes you feel good and relaxed. It was a simple message. One I had probably heard in variations a million times before, but this time, when it hit my ears, it registered and it stirred my imagination. It actually hit me rather deeply.
I knew instinctually that the reasons for being constantly keyed up and unable to relax was the result of the hardwired hyper-vigilance that resulted from years of trauma in my childhood. Although, I have completely forgiven the adults in my life and acknowledge that there was no real intention of doing harm in their behavior, I was still left with the task of healing from it. Letting go and relaxing initially has always felt scary and even dangerous. What if I let down my guard and something happens to me? As an adult, I realize these are irrational fears. They still come.
I have spent years “running” and essentially distracting myself from relaxing because it never felt safe to do so.
What immediately washes over me is sadness. Grief.
Relaxing and being still always initially brings up the loss of time that I spent avoiding the feeling that I wasn’t worthy enough to be protected from some of the things I endured growing up.
I was only a little girl and what I needed was to be held more, encouraged to express a wide arrange of emotions, and given the opportunity as a child to master difficult emotions with support. Instead, I was forbidden the expression of anger for fear of retaliation. I didn’t get the space to assert myself. Instead, my emotions were suppressed and turned inward. Speaking up and showing any defiance would have resulted in consequences that I was unwilling and too fearful to endure. And so, I remained hyper-vigilant and on guard, always trying to win love with my good behavior. Even so, there were times I said things wrong or sighed too loudly, which was misinterpreted as defiance. My older sister was the complete opposite of me and would rebel often, and thus, my parents became harder on me as an attempt to avoid a repeat the turbulence.
And so, when my therapist mentioned that I needed to slow down and exercise self care, it brought up a lot of emotions. But, what stirred me the most were his words: “do things that felt good to me”. He acknowledged my grief and pain and encouraged me to slow down, relax, and do the things that elicited feelings of well being. Examples he provided were meditation, taking a relaxing bath, singing, writing, etc.
I thought a lot about this simple advice. He had mentioned in doing these exercises of self care, your brain and body will be rewired to a calmer state and that will in time allow for more motivation for the “self care” that perhaps I considered more “chore related”.
I honestly never thought of self care as having an immediate benefit. I always felt I had to do things consistently and over time and then one day I might reap the rewards of doing so. Reframing this concept in this way has helped me to let go and relax a little more. My focus is now on doing the things that bring me joy, peace, and comfort. I am not seeing self care as a chore and as a result I am starting to feel more excited about practicing self care. This doesn’t mean that I should “leave out” the essentials of self care, like flossing/brushing teeth, bathing, exercise, adequate sleep. It instead places the focus of self care on the things that are immediately gratifying and feel good. Doing so actually makes me more motivated to do the others.
Sometimes, it is the simple concepts that become over-complicated in our minds. It’s so easy to become overwhelmed. Doing any activity that brings a sense of peace and stillness to the self is going to free up energy for the more laborious tasks that are sometimes put off.
Yes, for some of us who are hyper-vigilant and on guard due to past trauma, relaxing can seem scary and daunting at first. I feel it’s best to be realistic, go slow, and do what truly brings comfort and ease. This will allow the adrenal glands to recover and practicing self care in this way, over time, can make a huge difference.
I am actually excited about trying different things now and am a bit more hopeful. I feel it is all about connecting back to the self, acknowledging that I am safe now, and cultivating compassion and love for the self.
I hope this is helpful to someone struggling. It has helped me to shift a little bit and not be so overwhelmed. I am just taking it one step at a time. I know one day in the future I am going to feel a lot better. From this point forward, I will embrace self care as a way to reconnect and commune with myself and do the activities that bring me peace.
I know it’s heaviness. I know how it stings, like the bitter coldness in winter, wondering if you’ll ever feel warmth again.
I know how it drains you physically, lulling you into a deep slumber, leaving you numb, vacuous, empty.
I know the kind of loss that leaves you disillusioned, humbled, and meek.
No, I haven’t “inherited the earth”.
But, perhaps there is something in loss that frees you.
I am no longer distracted or preoccupied with the needless worry of pleasing someone or obtaining something. I am no longer clinging to hope or fortune. I no longer look to others to measure my success or lack there of.
I have acquired my own “space”. The endless space surrounding me that is all mine, with no disruptions, no demands, or “chatter”. There is silence and stillness in this space that I call mine.
My long laundry list of losses redefined me. As my world crumbled around me, I had no other choice but to let go and rebuild.
Like so many others who have experienced loss, I hung on for years, not wanting to leave the ruin and rubble that surrounded me. I desperately avoided the impact of the losses in my life by leaning on old coping mechanisms. This inevitably created more loss and ultimately left me both physically and mentally sick.
It rained. It poured. For years, I sought shelter in fragile spaces with others who were also desperately fleeing. We were running to and from each other, but never truly connecting. It was lonely.
I began to loathe myself and became more entrenched in endeavors that only served to alienate me further from myself and others.
I was hurting so bad that the desire to end the pain became greater than the desire to keep running away from it.
I decided it was time to sit with my pain, to feel it.
I processed a lot. In the space that was mine, I cultivated compassion for myself.
I outgrew my ineffective and old coping mechanisms.
Instead of finding ways to disconnect and distract myself, I found myself intentionally and purposely connecting to myself while sitting in the stillness. My desire to let go of what I could not control and become fully present in my own life began to grow.
And now, I only want peace. I want to feel more alive and connected in the moment.
I have very little as I lost so much: financial security, employment, relationships, health, etc.
And yet, the vulnerability I was left with has lead to personal growth, gratitude, and self love.
Years ago, I prayed for two things, humility and healing. I can honestly say that I got exactly what I prayed for.
In losing so much, I can clearly see what is mine to hold. I can look back and see what I released and “let go” of.
I honestly haven’t written in a long while. I’ve missed doing so, but my energy was being taken up by the consuming process of shedding my cocoon. I was releasing a lot and, and, at times, I was shrouded in darkness.
I am ready to reclaim my life, spread my wings, and take flight. I want to add color and light back into my life.
I accept all things that have made me whole. As hard as it was to lose so much for so long, I have gained invaluable life lessons and love.
Love and light everyone! I know for so many, these are difficult days. Please hang on through them. Cultivate your own garden and spend time lingering there to feel the warmth on your skin and breathe in the scent of honeysuckle. You alone are enough and you alone are love.
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.
I surrender to the disease that has taken so much from me and my family. Although I have not personally been affected by using a substance, your dominion and control over those I love has caused me immense pain, suffering, and grief.
I do, at times, question if it was you alone who caused this level of epic annihilation of family relationships and bonds. I now wonder if ASPD (anti-social personality disorder) also played a role in the ultimate deterioration of my loved ones’ health, causing some to be permanently disabled. This diagnosis has formed in my mouth, many times, as I became more disillusioned at the complete disregard for human life displayed, coupled with the unwillingness to seek help, even when at “rock bottom”.
I realize that manipulation and dishonesty are a part of your control and hold on someone. Their world becomes very small with you in their presence. Access to you consumes their daily thought processes, and you are prioritized above a child’s welfare, a safe home environment, and the health of all involved.
Your power and hold is so strong that you nearly killed my loved one. Yet, they still went crawling back to you. You’ve stripped away their dignity. I have felt completely bewildered by the orchestrated chaos during times of active use, and have been enraged at the willful denial of those unable or unwilling to step into full awareness of the devastation caused by this disease. I have struggled to accept the lies that continue to disempower the young adults who have been given so little and have lost so much as a result of their chaotic and neglectful upbringing.
The dysfunction caused by you, and possibly a personality disorder, has left me isolated and without a family. I no longer feel safe around those I love. I feel my sense of “home” has been stripped of me.
I am ready to let go now and no longer breathe any more oxygen into a space that only leaves me winded, exhausted, and in despair. I know it is time. There is a growing part of me that is excited to walk through the open door and enter into a world that I have built for myself. One that is peaceful and full of people who value me. One where the sand isn’t constantly shifting.
Addiction, you may have taken my family from me, but I am restoring my peace and creating stronger boundaries. You have helped me in ways, in your display of epic dysfunction, realize that I was and am not to blame for the lack of love and commitment denied to me. This loss had very little to do with me in the end. You have reigned supreme for decades, wreaking havoc in the lives of those I loved. I chose to believe that I was to blame. Shouldering the blame made me feel more in control, giving me the false impression that I could behave in ways that would help facilitate change.
I stand corrected. I lay down my sword and walk away from the war that has left me drained and exhausted. I now am fully aware that I can only change myself.
I hate you, addiction.
But, even more than that, I hate the unresolved shame and pain that enables one to use. It’s hard work to heal from the trauma of the past. So many self-soothe in a variety of ways that not only is harmful to themselves, but prevents them from the true intimacy they deserve.
Addiction, You are a tricky bastard, robbing people from the gem that exists within, a lie that alienates them from themselves and others.
Oh, how I have raged at you. I have lost my dignity in your uncontrolled fire. I have stood at the edge, as you engulfed my family in flames, helpless and embittered. I have lost myself trying to save them from your merciless and murderous ways. I have fought tirelessly, watching loved ones lose their freedom, their potential, and even, their minds. I have wept and winced in pain from the despair and desperation of watching those I love become no longer recognizable. They have become shells of their former selves.
Yes, you are a unrelenting and tortuous disease that continually steals the lives and joy of your victims…And you did so with my family. And it made me very sick… for many years.
But, you will not have a victory over my life. I surrender and admit defeat for this chapter. Two decades of being part of your circus is enough. I will miss the dream of having a closer family. Yet, I am ready to accept the reality of “what is” and protect the budding peace and contentment I am finding within myself as a result of practicing self compassion and forgiveness.
Addiction, you have claimed many lives. But, you will not claim mine. I am moving beyond your grasp.
I will always talk honestly about how incredibly sick this disease has made me over the years. I endured chronic pain, anxiety, depression, angry outbursts, suicidal ideation, an exacerbation of my mood disorder, nightmares, etc. I reactively abused those I loved. I became manipulative, at times, in desperation to be visible and get my own needs met. I lost my dignity and was ashamed of how I responded. I lost employment opportunities. My health greatly deteriorated. I was even diagnosed with PTSD. I SUFFERED, IMMENSELY.
Addiction, our relationship is over. I broke up with you in the past, but this time I am going “no contact”. I am redirecting all my time and energy that has been used up “spinning” with you, and investing it in myself.
I look forward to what the future holds. It might be a bit lonely at first, but it won’t be chaotic or devaluing. I won’t be raging or losing my dignity while screaming alone in the dark.
I hope my writing helps others who are struggling in similar ways to not feel so alone. Those in the family who do not use, also need care and support. Many times addiction can seem like an impossible situation. Don’t be too hard on yourself if you haven’t handled it perfectly. I honestly will tell you I have been a mess the past few years. I was consumed by it and was taking on a responsibility that was not mine. I now have realized the complete lack of control I have and am finally releasing the reign it had on my life. It’s a slow process. But, it is possible.
I choose to “hate” addiction, the disease, NOT the addict. My hope will always be that members of my family who are struggling, fully heal. I am trying to do the same.
I know I am getting there. I know how hard it is and how much time it takes. But, I will continue waling towards freedom and peace. And as a result, I will have more of it in my life. It will continue to grow exponentially, until one day, I will look back and the pain of the past will be a distant memory. The present moment will be full of joy, laughter, and connection to healthy people in my life and to peaceful experiences. Quality of life over quantity is my goal going forward. Peace to all. I’m going to keep walking forward!
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!
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. ❤️ 🦋❤️