Category: Uncategorized

NOTE: This may be a difficult post to read. If you are struggling, please call or text 988 for help.

In the news, the alarm is sounding about the rise in suicides, addiction and overdoses. Over 49,000 took their lives last year according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. There is a struggle to understand the whys and how comes these tragedies happen. This is one perspective from personal experience and what I have learned.

As someone who has struggled with chemical dependency/addiction and still struggles with suicide ideation having made several attempts, it is not an easy place to climb out of. In my experiences, it is an accumulation of events that led me here.

It began in early childhood. I learned, and it was constantly reinforced, that I was the source of great unhappiness for my mother. She would, due to her own childhood pain, project her guilt and shame onto me, and this then turned into hatred. I believe she tired of feeling that shame and guilt and hated me as I was a constant reminder of her traumatic childhood events and the indiscretion that resulted in her getting pregnant with me that was not her husband. She lived her life in a state of numbness and rage in order to cope. The rage would build then blow up. Her reactions resulted in doing and saying horrifying things to me, with the fall out onto my siblings.

Every day, she told me how it was my fault her life was awful; she wished I hadn’t been born; she wished I was dead. Her daily life was miserable. My father’s childhood was also difficult. His way of coping was to act out his rage and violence toward me and others in the family. It was the foundation for feeling worthless, disposable and unlovable.

Growing up I often wondered why I was even in that house. For years I believed there had been a huge mistake. I didn’t belong there. I waited for my real parents to come get me. Dissociation became my way to survive. It was a very lonely existence. Even my younger siblings were shaped into treating me poorly as part of their survival. School and riding the school bus resulted in daily bullying, taunts and putdowns. It was another reinforcement and confirmation that I was not wanted and did not belong.

The two things that affected me most growing up were being sentenced to silence and to comply or die. I was told that I could never tell anyone what was going on as it would destroy our family. That it was my ultimate responsibility to hold the image of a functioning family even though it was in grave dysfunction, powerlessness and manipulation. I was the poster child of being the problem. My parents made sure they pointed to me when things were shaky. If I balked at being raped or hit, I had two choices, comply or die. There was a part of me who wanted to live, so I reluctantly chose to comply to appease those who had power over me.

When I was 15, I had reached the end of my coping abilities and attempted suicide. It put the house into a real tizzy, wondering how they would explain this situation. It turned further into hopelessness of the crushing responsibility of keeping those deep, dark secrets when the doctor believed them that I was the big problem.

Damage can come from many sources: family, neighbors, relatives, school, babysitters, foster care, bullies, condemnation from some denominations, physical assaults, child sexual abuse, emotional abuse, financial abuse and poverty to name a few. It accumulates until it becomes so overwhelming, and as children, we do not have a fully developed adult brain to develop safe coping strategies to align with adult situations. Instead, we do what we have to do to survive. We use addiction, mental illness, self-harm, insomnia, dissociation, cutting, alcohol, pills, video games, television, sleeping, ruminating, eating, not eating, running away, all to keep us buried in a state of numbness and some semblance of retaining what little control we have in our life to shelter from pain. Our bodies and minds are hyper-vigilant and on high-alert which affects our central nervous system as we’re always on alert for the next attack. Anticipating and watching for the “tells” as we brace ourselves for the next trauma, the next betrayal.

So let us pull back the curtains of what is likely underneath all of this. As I mentioned earlier, it is not just one thing, one event, one snide and nasty remark. It is an accumulation of barbs, taunts, degrading and disparaging words, physical jabs and hits, sexual assaults, constantly being emotionally beat up and the bullying that digs deeper and deeper into our psyche, thus reinforcing how worthless and undesirable we are. All to get rid of us, with the goal of carving us out of the social fabric and into isolation.

Most of us internalize all of this pain while some choose to act out, pushing back against bullies and innocent people, using violence to be heard for their pain. Yet most of us suffer in silence, pulling further inward, punishing ourselves. When the pain and grief reach a threshold we can no longer tolerate, we seek out other ways to cope and self-medicate. We do or use whatever it takes to move back into a numb place so we can operate with little to no emotions. We may even have a vacant look—no one home.

When the pain continues to burrow deeper and wider, people can choose to up their intake of chemicals (or other distractions) to get deeper to that numb place, that false sense of controlling the overwhelm, pain and grief. This occurs especially when it turns into phantom-like pains that go everywhere. Imagine shaking a two-liter bottle of soda, how much that pressure expands and eventually blows. We try to keep it all stuffed down not wanting to blow into rage or tears. Suicide can become an appealing option when we can no longer stop the pain and deep ache of loneliness. We are exhausted from the inner turmoil of fighting the inside war of anger, rage and deep grief. We feel we have reached the end of options where exiting looks like the only way to stop this incredible pain and futility.

We look for comfort in the turmoil but there does not seem to be much to be found. It becomes a daily hell. We still get up to go to work, participate when we can, do what we can, hibernate, isolate, collapse inward. There are some who may not recall what happened to them, (buried memories), that know something is off and choose to use self-medication to contain phantom problems.

Isolation seems like a better choice rather than trying to put on a happy face. It can be easier than sharing the struggles and frankly, we believe our friends and family get tired of hearing about our daily challenges or that we are in another downward spiral. They give up on us, too. We learn not to bother them or they will walk away. Or they don’t understand then point back to comment how we are living in the past. There obviously is something so wrong with us which continues that internal shame.

Often, when we try to share what is going on with friends and family, we can end up being dismissed which creates more isolation and loneliness. Just. Shut. Up! I learned not to bother anyone. To just keep to myself. I don’t matter anyway so what.

The ultimate stab of pain, adding shame and blame occurs when someone who hears about our traumas chooses to glibly inform us that we must have done something terrible in our past lives to warrant this abuse and therefore deserve it. God is punishing us or we wouldn’t have to go through the extreme painships. We were dreadful children. More character assassination. “Have you tried forgiveness? You have to forgive them. Why are you hanging on to all of that? Just forgive and forget.” It adds more shame and blame resulting in deeper isolation and loneliness. Likely, it also creates uncomfortableness talking about this painful stuff for both.

We who struggle with being marginalized, lonely, isolated, unworthy, different, ugly, unwanted and unaccepted, grasp for a way to cope with the pain and brokenness inside. PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder) results. The longer it stays stuffed, the greater the hold it has on us and shatters our internal view of who we are and takes longer for recovery. On the outside, we can look okay, productive, engaged, functional. Inside, the damage has been done. We feel hopeless and helpless. We get to the stage where our coping strategies no longer work. The addiction ramps up in order to deal with the anxiety, stress, out-of-control circumstances, being weary and exhausted which often can result in greater use of drugs/alcohol/other choices to push down the fear, rage and grief. We can get to a desperate state, take too much and overdose and/or end life as either an accident or suicide as we so desperately want the grip of pain and futility to end.

After I stopped self-medication and became sober (pills 38 years and alcohol 37 years), I still struggled with the pain and poor self-esteem. I reached out for a variety of therapy, groups and worked inch by inch to find meaning. I added spirituality to my life. When I kept busy, I would go and go until I was too exhausted to feel, then drop into bed using other coping strategies. It is a weary way to live.

Three years ago, I was in a very dark place and contemplated giving up. I had a plan but no date. I know people said they cared about me. I also knew that even if they were sad when I was gone, they would be able to move on with their lives and I’d be a blip on their radar. It couldn’t be the reason for me to stay. I finally came out of it. No one reason, just time passing and me postponing it one more day, then one more day until finally the dark lifted. No one knew I was in that place, as I chose not “to bother” anyone of course.

Later, in a casual conversation with my son, I mentioned I came through “the dark night of the soul”. His face looked pained. He told me he had been through enough people dying by suicide in his life. He could not take any more. He begged me to not ever do it. I realized that while others would move on with their lives, he would not and be devastated. It was a reality check and wake-up call. I knew with certainty that I could never do that to him. What a challenge it is to decide to bear your own pain so as not to contribute to another’s. One ends, the other begins. One begins and the other ends.

I also knew a number of people who chose suicide. When I think about a friend who died that way, I often wondered what if she had waited one more day. Went to bed to try again tomorrow. Chose to see life from the light of another day.  Begin to focus on the healing process. We have been placating other people’s comfort at the expense of ourselves. Family loyalty that comes at your expense is not love; it is control. This way, they can continue to make you their excuse and continue their damaging behaviors, which are often generational. When I was able to let go of that misplaced responsibility, I felt the weight of what I carried for others begin to lift and lighten.

Loneliness can make things worse. Hopefully there is a kind person who can stand by you as you go through this. Someone who says let’s go do something like grab coffee, mini-golf, movie, gaming or simply immerse yourselves in nature. Nature is our peaceful friend. My friend has a tree she talks to. I have also found that pets are wonderful, if that is an option for you. They can offer safety, comfort and affection, an opportunity to care for someone and is there with you.

I also make to do lists so I can choose what I am up for, allowing me to get things done no matter how small. I choose to do something to get outside myself and this helps me feel like I am moving forward out of the darkness.

As I grew, I moved through relationships to find other things to talk about, share, do adventures and travel in order to connect with others and not let the past totally consume or define me. Releasing unsupportive/uncaring people and family from my circle has added greater peace in my life. I have replaced them with others who have become my family. It has shaped my life. It is not about getting over the past; it is learning to move through and get on to something better instead of bitter. After years, I have begun to let my heart crack open and let the love and light in.

I have accepted my limitations. This is what I can do today. I have lived in fear that if I stop the “doing” (i.e., make the bed, do dishes, clean), I would end up catatonic. We can begin to reclaim parts of ourselves a piece at a time from all that was taken, shattered and split off. Find just one reason, even if it is a small one, that can grow into the choice to stay here.

Any day you take a step forward and bravely reach out for help is the day healing and peace can begin. Please seek out a therapist who will understand in a non-judgmental way and walk with you through this difficult trek to peace and freedom. Someone who can encourage you to celebrate the little victories. Don’t give up until you find that connection. Initially it can feel overwhelming. Piece by piece one wobbly step at a time.

No matter how I feel, dark nights and slivers of light, I will continue to try to carry on with grace. I know I can be imperfectly perfect, sober and accept that I am loved, worthy, wanted and important–even when some days it is hard to believe. Remember, we shouldn’t have to die to find peace. We are stronger than we think we are. If we made it through the trauma, we can learn to live in the now, minute by minute. We don’t need to be fully healed to deserve love and good things in life.

REMEMBER: Call or text 988 to reach out for help for your own mental health.  

For more information, go to http://www.ivegotamessage.com

The past two years have pushed us into re-evaluating our lives. What worked, what didn’t, what changed, we changed, the others changed or even stayed the same. How have we changed and adapted? We have many opportunities presented to us for these changes in our course. We have hung in there, maybe hung on and finally decided to let go.  Maybe it is time for direction correction.

A job, a relationship, a friendship. When we begin, there can be hope, excitement, a place where we can grow. We think of ways we can fit in, have more income, belong, be appreciated, a connection. It can be either short or long-term. Change happens even if we wish it didn’t.

If you have experienced childhood trauma, the experience of hanging in and hanging on is met with us hoping we can gain appreciation, acceptance and approval, that we are worthy and worthwhile. With this pattern, it sets the stage for how we react and respond to others in relationships whether work, friendship or intimate partners.

A few years ago, I took a job I thought would work for me. Good hours, nice pay. I did my work and as time went on, I saw warning signs that some co-workers and managers were not really who they presented themselves to be. It’s like dating. When we start to go out, we present our best sides. Dress up, put on our best features, skills and behaviors. The hiring side also does pretty much the same thing. We see each other as potential good connection. They want someone to fill a role and we need a job. As we move on day to day, we naturally relax back into who we are. If we continue trying to be like that first date, it becomes harder to keep that façade up.

As I did my job and then some, I began to experience challenges in this work environment that were difficult for me. I decided to hang in there hoping for change. Then it moved into the stage of hanging on. I felt leaving would be seen as failure on my part, casting me again as a loser who could not make it work out.  Another hit to my self-esteem. Plus, job hunting is an ugh to me. My old belief is there must be something wrong with me if I cannot just suck it up no matter the environment. No matter how toxic it gets. There are cues when we are highly stressed for long periods of time, feel like crying after we leave for home, feeling dread about going to work day after day.

The Universe sees the bigger picture and I believe it works on our behalf when we have hung on far too long to help us let go (or be pushed out). Sometimes our “suck it up” attitude cannot do that anymore. We can learn to let go and recover. We can take the opportunity to find out more about ourselves, our assets and limitations. It is part of being a healing human.

A blessing occurs when a friend comes into our life. Someone who gets us, who can relate to events that have occurred or are happening currently in our lives. Someone who helps us navigate to the next intersection, a lamp unto our feet to see just where our next step can land. Support to help us through a crisis.

In tenth grade, I made a friend who came into my life when I was in one of my darkest periods. We stayed connected off and on for nearly 40 years. About ten years ago, I noticed that the scales of friendship began tipping more towards the giving area from my side and was not reciprocated. This person knew my family and high school. That was a touchstone. We continued to grow apart going in different directions. After a time, I knew it was the end of this relationship. I hung in there then began to hang on. Because I had a dearth of friendships, I held on for loyalty. I felt sadness having invested so much time and energy, yet letting go freed us up for the next stages. Now, I am blessed with the best group of friends. I learned a lot through this experience so I can be open and more vulnerable to connect with belonging (to this group of friends) and accepted for my authentic self.

When I met my first husband, I felt this connection and was sure he was the one. I could hardly believe someone would even want me. Shortly after, I allowed myself to see some of the cracks in our relationship, yet I was determined to make it work. I invested lots of time, energy, money, compassion, understanding and even gave up what was important to me. I began changing and healing even though he wasn’t at that stage in his life. Still, I hung in there then began to hang on. After all this investment, I believed if I stayed long enough, did enough, was enough that I would be enough. But I wasn’t. Again, that failure message was present and very loud. I did not want to fail at marriage. I also hoped to get a return on investment in this relationship. So, I hung on hoping it would pay off.

Yet, we both were fractured people trying to fix each other. Women get married hoping men change; men get married hoping women don’t. That is what this marriage foundation was, a very shaky and unstable one. As I got more help, I began to change and face some of those demons. I think he was afraid to face his demons and challenges. I began moving further away emotionally and decided I needed to get on with my life no matter what. Yes, it was a painful, sad time and I cried a lot. It was the loss of the dream I formulated in my head and my heart. When I saw that I was putting in way more time and energy, which was draining me. When the final blow up happened, it was over. He was where he chose and I was going where I chose. We could not go on together.

Time to time, we may choose to go back to revisit that person, thinking we might have been hasty in our decision to let go. Generally, it turns out it was the best decision to end the relationship. Confirmation we made the right decision. A freeing one.

There are people in our lives who are very draining, who would prefer you do their work for them. We can get caught up in fixing what is uncomfortable while feeling responsibility for helping them out of their dilemma. When we expend that amount of energy, we can feel anger when the other person is not appreciating our offers of help (based from our own lens of what works for us, we would want and do about the situation). It is okay to take a step back or even ten steps back. Recalculate and reassess. There are questions to ask of the other person when you notice you are doing the heavy lifting: ask them what they want/need then ask how you can best help them.

What I have discovered is there are people who come through for us. It can be those who we would not have thought would show up. But like angels, the universe sends who we need. I have learned to ASK the universe for the divine assistance I need at this moment and throughout this challenge. Letting go of expectations and the seemingly safety of the familiar, grieving, can open greater doors for something better. Sometimes, we only need to get to the next intersection. Then, we can figure out what is next.

I took a lot of the things I have learned and repatterned what matters. It helped me gain clarity for future endeavors and opportunities. Through my son (he knew better than me apparently), I met my now husband. We have changed, healed and grown together. I am blessed and grateful for those learning opportunities which were ultimately gifts. We hang in there for each other (married 21 years). The difference is he is also putting commitment and investment into our relationship so hanging in works. We continue to be better together.

Years ago, my cousin sent me the Reason, Season and a Lifetime. All those times I fretted about what did I do for a relationship to blow up and just end or even fizzle? This gave me an explanation that was balm for my soul and gave me inner peace. It is just time to open the doors for the next best thing instead of beating me up for the things and events I cannot control. When you notice that the relationship/job is taking so much energy and you are feeling drained, ask yourself if it is time for a direction correction.

Reason, Season and a Lifetime

By: Brian A. “Drew” Chalker

People always come into your life for a reason, a season and a lifetime. When you figure out which it is, you know exactly what to do.

When someone is in your life for a REASON, it is usually to meet a need you have expressed outwardly or inwardly. They have come to assist you through a difficulty or to provide you with guidance and support, to aid you physically, emotionally, or even spiritually. They may seem like a godsend to you, and they are. They are there for a reason you need them to be. Then, without any wrong doing on your part or at an inconvenient time, this person will say or do something to bring the relationship to an end. Sometimes they die. Sometimes they just walk away. Sometimes they act up or out and force you to take a stand. What we must realize is that our need has been met, our desire fulfilled. Their work is done. The prayer you sent up has been answered and it is now time to move on.

When people come into your life for a SEASON, it is because your turn has come to share, grow, or learn. They may bring you an experience of peace or make you laugh. They may teach you something you have never done. They usually give you an unbelievable amount of joy. Believe it! It is real! But, only for a season. And like Spring turns to Summer and Summer to Fall, the season eventually ends.

LIFETIME relationships teach you a lifetime of lessons; those things you must build upon in order to have a solid emotional foundation. Your job is to accept the lesson, love the person/people (anyway), and put what you have learned to use in all other relationships and areas in your life. It is said that love is blind but friendship is clairvoyant. Thank you for being part of my life.

Check my book 10 workplace strategies for adult survivors of child sexual abuse available on Lulu.com.

We are entering the time of year when kindness and gratitude are the hallmark of the season. We almost made it through another year. Because we have been struggling for the past couple years with the pandemic, there are been lots of Facebook posts and t-shirts that proclaim to be kind. However, with the pandemic among other things, it has tested not only our patience, it has stretched our ability to be kind. Hello: looking for toilet paper.

When we watch disasters on the news and social media, we can be quick to donate out of kindness. Winter is approaching so we go through our closet to find gently used coats, hats and mittens. We go through the cupboards for food donations. Our humanity shows when we can lift others up, particularly with random acts of kindness.

There are many posts about giving a smile. Holding the door open, the small courtesies right here at home. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t, then I wonder why I even bother.

As I was pondering about kindness and its importance for civility and humanity, I see how my kindness toward others can be measured depending who I share my resources, time and energy with.

We keep track of our donations for tax purposes. But, do we keep track of our “donations” to people we know? It is a hopeful banking tool. We do for them hoping at some point we can redeem our good deeds. Since I took someone to the airport a few times, when it is time for me to go, I have the hopefuls they will remember what I did and readily agree to return in kind. Sometimes we can get lucky and reciprocity will occur. Using the “accounts receivable” scorecard method has serious shortcomings.

Even when I have helped out with cash, I have had to change my view of it being a loan to it just being a gift. I decide how much I can afford to gift then hand it over. It is frustrating that even after I said it would be a gift, the receiver/taker says they will pay it back and person does not. It becomes a strain on the relationship adding resentments with those kinds of expectations. The person can avoid us because of the money repayment, ending a friendship.

There are some people we continually help out. Maybe out of kindness, maybe out of pity, maybe out of obligation, maybe out of habit. Then we can decide to stop for a multitude of reasons, drop out. Would that person who became accustomed to being helped become resentful even though the relationship is quite uneven and draining? Hostile dependency. Maybe we need to turn back to our own self-care so we take a break or quit. Our personal circumstances change so we can adjust. When our time, energy and money bank accounts are depleted, it is time to re-evaluate. There are the takers and there are the receivers. That makes a difference, too.

Givers can feel guilty or have guilt heaped up on them when they pull away, stop doing for others, especially when growing up with guilt and saying “no” was met with shame and a wooden spoon or metal spatula. We can do it so we feel okay about being liked. Especially, we don’t want to be viewed as selfish. In order not to seen that way, does that mean we have to give up everything for them? I would rather receive something from the heart and not something given to meet an obligation.

I am embracing using the random act of kindness with people, even those I know in a measured way.  Hopefully, I will eventually put away or burn the accounts receivable scorecard.

One of the lessons I learned from getting turned down for help from those I had counted on is by lifting my hands up to the sky and asking the Universe/God to send me the best person to help me. One example is when I needed a new radiator put in my car. I had the radiator but not the funds to pay a car shop to install it. I lifted my hands up. My next-door neighbor said he would do it for $35. I was stunned that this can work and I was grateful.

Years back, I was going through a very dark and desperate time. My son met Janet at church, grabbed her hand and said you have to meet my mom. God sent me an angel who helped me walk through that dismal valley, helping me navigate to the light again. She still is a very bright light in our lives.

August, 2020, my husband came home from major surgery then two days later I had a stroke and could not walk. After the ER visit, I came home, struggling to walk. There was going to be a bridal shower at our house and I talked with my neighbor as she checked in on us. She offered to clean our house so we can host. I was quite touched. When I ask the Universe for help (without putting expectations and narrow parameters), I am surprised and humbled with who is sent as angelic help.

As we go through the season of giving, step back and decide if you can give freely. Search your own limitations. We have them. We are human. We are told to give with joy. Sometimes we give to get the party to quit asking, begging and whining. When we give in, is it contributing to their lives? Is it enabling? It can take time to take back our lives and the use of “no.” Other useful phrases such as “that will not work for me.” “No, thank you.” “We are looking at our budget.” “Hmm, I will have to get back to you.” If someone does not accept the limitation and presses, still say a form of no. If the guilt nags at you, please get support from a supportive person who will affirm it is okay. Ultimately, it is still our decision on what, who, how and when we give.

The holidays are here. Budgets are stretched, patience is stretched. Expectations are stretched. Take a few breaths. Have a few go to kindness moves. Try to smile (to yourself) through the unpleasant encounters. There are a number of things we cannot control like lack of items in stores, long lines in the store with a shortage of cashiers, inattentive and aggressive drivers. I know it is important I don’t add to the angst of other people which adds to my own angst. Number two rule: don’t make things worse.

Keeping score can eat up a lot of resources from our lives. I can think of a lot of other things to use my time, energy and money for while gifting, practicing random acts of kindness and senseless acts of beauty which can be beneficial for both.

When someone offers you a kindness, the response is “thank you.” However, there is one thing I will pay attention to. When I offer a kindness/gift, if the person receiving/taking it says I shouldn’t have, I will consider taking them at their word then retrieve it. Thanks for letting me know.

Remember, it is perfectly fine to offer gifts to yourself, too.

Blessings for the rest of the year and Happy Thanksgiving.

Having a remote discussion with Frances (mother figure), she said she was only responsible for her actions toward me, not the consequences of what happened. Initially, I was aghast about that. How can she say that pushing me down the steps when I was a toddler was her responsibility, not the consequences of what happened after as I tumbled down the flight?

People’s actions, regardless if intentional or through a hijacked mind have lifelong repercussions and consequences for the one on the receiving end. It becomes even more challenging when a variety of actions reinforce the consequences that change the trajectory of our lives. One rape or over 200 (or many more). One beating versus 75 (or many more) spread throughout our childhood. One emotional berating or many more)? Whether parents are in a rage or whatever (alcohol/drugs) fuels it and we are at the receiving end, the consequences can leave a very deep imprint. So how can we not turn the blame back to those who deeply wounded us, not have them take responsibility beyond the initial action creating chain reactions that follow through our lives?

As the consequences of my parents’ actions piled up, I felt so burdened. There were times I would act out from it but mostly I turned it back on me, victimizing myself. With the ongoing inflicted pain, I believed I was an awful, evil person who “deserved” these ongoing assaults (was led to believe that). It not only took a toll on my physical body, there were emotional, mental, spiritual, social and financial repercussions that would gather more distortions that open the doors to bullying throughout school.

Who is to say I wouldn’t have experienced the deep wounds if my parents had loved me and demonstrated my worthiness? So many what ifs. Instead, my parents paid forward their family historical pain; everyday, it came out in painful ways. At the time, I could not fight back when you take into account how little I was when it started (16 months old). The size differential and age disparity created the credo to “comply or die” which became imprinted and ingrained. It became my prison of fear.

As I grew, I tried to find ways to divert the pain that was still directed at me. I would be hyper vigilant watching for cues so I would anticipate my next steps to avoid more painful attacks. I self-medicated the pain by becoming chemically dependent. When it was inevitable, I would only surrender and leave my body so the blows didn’t feel so intense. Dissociation can be a great coping skill. It kept me alive. I was angry, resentful, miserable and blaming toward my parents and the ongoing bullying I experienced throughout school and became stuck in that.

After high school, I was hopeful, more like wishful thinking, if I just did a geographical change, magical thinking would leave all that painful baggage behind. Well, it didn’t. I spent many years in therapy including a stint in a mental health halfway house and outpatient drug rehab. I was trying to cope the best way I could using what I learned from growing up. It was so difficult to get past the victim parts of my life. I was punishing me while hoping Dwayne and Frances (parent figures) would see how they wrecked my life. If they saw that, then they would see the damage they had done and finally apologize to me. I was believing that an apology would be the magic potion to erase that history to be freed.

Then one night, I had a lucid dream about Dwayne. He was in his kitchen making coffee. I saw him spoon his instant coffee into a cup, add boiling water from the tea kettle, stir it and reach into the refrigerator for milk to add to his coffee. Stirring, he went into the living room. There was NO acknowledgement of my pain, the damage. I made a new decision that I had to get on with my life no matter what. There is no getting over it. It is ridiculous to say that to anyone going through this. Move through and on.

I struggled with moving forward as it was three steps forward and two steps back. Sometimes it was back five steps forward and eight steps back. Each step afforded me greater wisdom. Then reminded me if I keep staying stuck in that pain and the consequences, then my parents would win and I still am under their control, their spell. It is a good carrot to move through it.  

I did seek help through healing stages with a variety of therapeutic and mental health modalities. Developing healthy relationships was also very important as I finally find a place where I was accepted. However, the consequences were still there as I learned to take the edge off as I worked through them one by one and two by two.

The truth about consequences is we are stuck with them, the whole mountain range. Someone else’s painful actions become our burden, especially when we reach adulthood. And really, as much as I wished for them to take responsibility for their actions, that apology that I believed would be a magic wand did not take anything away. It did not happen. As I trekked through that history, I would become angry and resentful, not only at having to address each thing, but the financial burden, time and clawing back to obtain a quality of life. I would rail at the universe, “Why me? Why me? Why?”

One of the first things I figured it out was to sort out what parts I took on as my parents’ responsibility as taught (and believed) that it was all my fault. They dumped their historical pain onto me so I thought I owned it. As long as they piled it on, they kept shedding more and got off the hook for their part and responsibilities because I was still carrying it.

I began to sort the perceived responsibilities into piles: own, donate, throw away if not mine or give them back symbolically. It greatly reduced the onerous pile so I can better address and manage these consequences. As long as I held onto all of it, I was still feeling responsible for what happened to me, not them. It is a long road to become free.  Along with way, forgiveness of self is very important along with someone who is willing to help you get to the next intersection, hopefully shedding the heavy baggage along the way.

It can be easy to just hang onto it all. I have done that and felt so burdened and constricted with those chains, keeping me stuck. This also affected my physical health. However, when we do that, we become and wear that story of pain, resentment and anger. What if we do let go? Then does that mean the hurters still get off the hook and we won’t be able to keep score? No. Not at all. As long as I believed holding on to all of that becomes my job to keep the score because if I don’t, then who will? Once I was sick and tired of being sick and tired, I turned over that to the One who can relieve me of that burden, asking for the best help. It takes courage, damn the torpedoes, to get free. Takes those steps to release.

Another part of letting go of the story of our pain is once we release it and have empty spaces to fill, then what will our story be? Who are we without that story? I needed to turn outward from the inner turmoil to redefine who I am now. I am so much more than my history. It still has some definition of my framework. I found out I am strong, tenacious, clever, sturdy, loving and kind. I found wisdom as I traveled along to find out who I am while removing the lies that were slapped on me.

What will your new story be? What are your strengths and what wisdom has come about? I am learning more everyday how those painful situations become blessings. How about you? One step is momentum.

Jealousy is such a loaded concept. How often do we acknowledge that we are envious of others? It could of their lifestyle, what they purchased, their home, vehicle, body, romantic partner? Could be endless.

It took me a long time to move away from that as I saw it as wasted energy that I could be using for something more productive. On occasion, I will get some pangs then work through it to be free from it. It is time theft. On the other side, it is a form of judgment when we keep sitting with it. How can we know the other person’s back story about it? How do we know how much it really cost beyond the monetary aspect? Is it a dismissal of how they had a goal and worked for it? When we do get it, what is our satisfaction level? Did I discover that the money/time/energy I put into getting it was not worth it and end up donating it or throwing it away anyway? Each segment is such a personal road of discovery.

Are there other aspects of jealousy that we can learn from? What can we learn about ourselves? Do we see from our side that that person has it made; how easy it is for them to attain anything with ease? Are we entering their story toward the middle of the book and see what we see or do we see when someone has a setback, how they struggle, how far down the dark? As I said, so many aspects. I think it is a wonderful opportunity to learn more about ourselves.

Recently, someone bought a new(er) vehicle. My mind went to wow, I wish I could do that. My car is over 20 years old, rusting some and is inching up towards 250,000 miles. What was the envy about? Sitting with that image for a while, I thought it isn’t about that vehicle. I am happy with my “go-cart.” We have a good working relationship. My butt and the car seat fit perfectly. I thought it was about the freedom of having money to spend as I wanted instead of being thrifty. (Remember, we all give up things to have things.) A new vehicle would not solve my current issues. Believing that having something that someone has will solve my problems turns out it is often not the case.

What mattered was me tracing it back to childhood experiences. We grew up very poor. My relationship with money is a difficult learning experience. Maybe it impacted me more because I was the oldest and experienced more of the deprivation. I believed if I had anything, it would be taken away anyway so why have something important. I learned to navigate the narrow openings of survival. Even today when an unexpected bill comes in (car or home repair?), I slip into that old fear.

I have come close to homelessness, little food, empty gas tank and plenty of fear. When I had no money, someone who I had helped out a lot offered me $5. I had created in my mind a program where I would bank my generosity for when I would need it. Only I felt crushed and betrayed when the “banked favors” were literally empty for me to draw on by the people I had helped.  

When offered a handout, I would recoil, suspicious of motive. Yet, I would feel jealousy. How come it looks like other people have it much easier than me when I struggle so? How fair is that? As the years rolled along, I have come to learn about my own strengths and discernment of wants and needs. I realize getting a hand up ultimately helped me more than a hand out. I remember the church sending me a check for Christmas when my son was four. I felt offended like I could not provide for my son. Feelings are a mixed bag. I did need help. It was difficult to feel gratitude and blessed as I was trying to keep my head above water while feeling like I was continually drowning.

I was struggling. I was stuck, filled with self-hatred, feeling jealous, life is unfair, wishing I would be rescued from this horrible life or just leave it altogether. I would do things to try to show my father how he destroyed my life by doing self-destructive things like drinking and cutting. I had magical thinking that if he saw how terrible I was doing, he would own up to his contribution toward this destruction. One night at 22 years old, I had a lucid dream. I saw my father in his kitchen making his instant coffee, spooning in the crystals, pouring the boiling water, stirring the cup. Reaching into the refrigerator to get the milk for his coffee. Sipping it as he walked into the living room. It was such a wake-up for me to see he did not care about me, what happened and what was happening. I felt crushed at the lack of empathy. It was then I made the decision that I was going to get on with my life no matter what. The wisdom learned was taking back the power I continually gave away to others to save me from myself. I needed to save myself from them.

Looking backwards, I saw I did get help. Just not exactly how I wanted it. Each time I hoped the one person would help me; it generally wasn’t the case. It was someone I wasn’t expecting to show up. Gifts. When I began to ask and trust the universe to bring me the best person to help me, it took the burden off my generosity bank of expectations.

What wisdom can we learn to get where we would like to go? To create a life worth living based on our own wants and needs, not looking out the fishbowl into someone else’s world? To me, everyone is our role model, who we’d like to emulate and those whose traits go against our values. It offers clarity to define our own life, not living out someone else’s dreams. We can come to authenticity, not a carbon copy and if onlys, then I could.

When inventors have an idea of what to create, there are many prototypes and what we could see as failures, setbacks. It could be easy to just give up. Yet there is a passion to keep going to find the combination of what works. We have to start somewhere. A germ of an idea. A thought. A trait or a personality quirk. Something.

Instead of looking at it as a setback, it would be more helpful to look at it as a step-back. We can step back and reassess. What worked, what didn’t and what can I do that different to move forward. Today, I made a pie crust. No matter how I did it, rolled it, folded it, it just did not work. Frustrated, I scooped it up and did a basketball dunk in the garbage with it. I started over, even if it was a patchwork. Water helped glue it together. And the quiche turned out.

Instead of jealousy, let’s find our inner ability, our inner talents, our tenacity and bravery step by step to move toward our authentic life. We can use a hand out; we can use a hand up even more. Even though I still struggle from history, I can see it has led to greater wisdom and a more open heart to receive. Most choices are up to me, each creating more learning opportunities.

If we let history be our definition, then how can we move forward and move away from jealousy. Being and staying stuck can keep us on the hamster wheel of shame, self-hate, defeatism and blame.

I am rooting for you to take the next step and use step backs to find the next way forward.  

Anxiety and fear have been part of the make-up of me for all my life. I didn’t know the depth of their origins. It was the familiar. There was this disconnection I had with myself. As a youngster, I would see me looking at me six feet away above my head. Connected yet not connected. Far enough away to not feel the pain yet close enough to make sure I did not get lost. As I aged into my teen years, I began to gain weight. I also noticed the intensity of anxiety, fear, depression and low energy as I yet felt removed from my body.  I began to feel like a vacant house with broken windows. The stones hurled was sad to see yet being disconnected lessened the intensity of the pain.

As I moved onto the next stages of my life, I felt anxiety about living in places. It was a struggle to feel I could entirely unpack and hang pictures on the walls. I did not feel like I was home and was ready to flee at a moment’s sign. No amount of lock would help me feel safe.

I have been therapy from ongoing traumas growing up. Each was a step to getting to the next intersection. Sometimes forward, sometimes backward, sometimes detours to get around those potholes I kept falling in. Decisions were mostly made with fear as my guide. I also prayed for help and guidance. I looked for miracles to catch a break. I also was somewhat suspicious of that help, wondering how high that price would be if I accepted. I was not a gracious receiver.

I have struggled with weight and addiction issues. Even though treatment helped, I still had many challenges. People were there to help. I took it in couched in fear and anxiety. I still was dissociating. Self-medicating to numb the trauma and dissociation. (I am sober over 30 years now.)

In 2019, I began seeing a naturopath and going to the gym. I felt ready to transform. I was doing well. My weight was going down and my stamina seemed to increase. I already had Dialectical Behavior Therapy, too. I also began Prolonged Exposure therapy to help address the traumas and to reduce its daily impact. I was feeling better.

Then at work during the 2019 holiday shopping season (I am a cashier), I felt so bombarded that my PTSD skyrocketed. All the weight I had dropped came right back on in two months. I felt defeated. I realized an issue I had all along that kept me in that state was that I did not feel safe in my body. I continued to live outside of myself.

I have been told several times I needed to be back in my body. But how do you do that when it is a foreign experience?

A friend asked me if I heard about polyvagal theory. No, I had not. So, I decided to read more about it. It pertains to the vagus nerve which starts in the neck and goes down to your abdomen. It carries an extensive range of signals that affect your digestive and organ system and the brain. The tenth cranial nerve originates in the brainstem through the neck and chest region to the abdomen.

Stephen Porges, PhD, says the body remembers the experiences of trauma and when feeling threatened, we can get stuck in the trauma response mode. When there is no trauma or the trauma has passed, our body can still feel like we are in danger when we aren’t and the defenses stay engaged. For me, I began to notice how many times a minute I breathe. I learned a lot of calming techniques in DBT, but it was not focused on the breathing aspect.

In my spiritual group, we talked about how many breathes to take in a minute. Six. That is calming to me and helping to find safety in my body so I can move back in. As I practice the breathing and continue with my morning Zoom meditation group, I am feeling a lot calmer. The support of the group really helped me get through another holiday shopping season with lessened impact on my PTSD responses. I became more aware when my breathing got shallow. I stopped and inhaled deeply, held my breath and slowly exhaled as many times as I needed until the PSTD symptoms abated.

Moving back into my body can offer me better health by reducing stress levels and other benefits I have yet to experience. Though it is important to be aware of protections from the outside; it is much better when I can feel safe, yet aware and discerning, from the inside out.

I will be exploring more about the polyvagal theory. Breathing is a good place to start.

Do you wonder at times what is the purpose of life? This life? Your life? I have been reading, asking, pondering what is it all about? It is to love and be loved. This is the foundation of our being and growing.

People have one or the other established. The other one, not so much. When we can show and embrace both, we are in balance, peaceful and in harmony. As I delve into my growing up history, I have learned more about my mother’s and father’s self-hate which was passed down to me. Their hate was so encompassing, I never knew or believed I was a lovable human being. Just a product of disdain. So, in a way, I inherited self-hate as a being who felt worthless, unlovable, pained, someone who takes away resources from others and more. Feeling like this, we wear this look for the world to see even when we try to smile through that pain. How can I feel love for me when I wasn’t shown love?

Abuse challenges us to find the love for ourselves. When people say, “just learn to love yourself,” that is not the panacea. Self-esteem is really about loving ourselves. How many times has someone implied that when we love ourselves, or are trying to, we are met with resistance? Or brushed off as self-indulgent?

Grace can help us as we unpack the lies; not only were we told that about ourselves, but to unpack the lies we’ve kept up and reinforced. I participated in a program where I told and retold some stories that happened to me that I felt ashamed, embarrassed and wounded. She was non-judgmental which was a big help along with refraining from having “tells” (facial tics) as I shared those stories. Each time I told the story, I gleaned more information about what happened to me and what the wider implications were that I struggled with and could finally name. One of the things that was helpful was putting these stories and feelings into perspective and sorting out what belonged to who. This lifted me further out of believing I was the sole source of blame and fault for all the things that went wrong in our house growing up. I began to see I was a child who had parents who were unable to parent and let their emotions and whims be in charge resulting in a chaotic life.

What gets skewed is in the ideal world, parents would be showing us love so we can learn to love ourselves and others. Throw in trust issues, too. If we aren’t shown that, how would we know? How would we know as we grow what love really is and feeling safe in that? Remember how we asked how we would know when we are in love? What love is? They would reply that we would just know. I learned early that “love” hurts. A lot. After digging into my parents’ early lives, love hurt for them, too. Doesn’t make it right. Just perpetuating false actions. Loving hurt for me as I was a young adult. My first marriage was abusive. No matter how I tried to make it better, fix it, anticipate what would keep the peace, I couldn’t. My own self-hate sabotaged me.
Underneath it all, few people learn about our histories. The back stories. When we look at most everything through our filters, we see things with our own experiences and put them in our own shoes. We are judged and we judge the judgers as well as ourselves.

So along the way, we can learn to give ourselves more grace. It’s not a perfect straight line to get to love and trust, both directions. We stumble, we get back up, we try again. We look more closely at what works and what doesn’t. Tenacity is a wonderful asset to have. From abuse, we can plug along, trying to find our way toward living instead of existing, some days barely, and making progress. Whatever that progress is. Early on, I felt successful when I made the bed and did the dishes. Little victories.
When we have something positive occur, what side do the people in your life take? “Yay! You go. I am so happy for you.” Or, “It must be nice (sad panda). How come I don’t get any breaks?” Something positive that happens to people doesn’t take away your opportunities and doesn’t diminish you. Oftentimes, we do not see the work that goes into creating the opportunities that come our way. Sometimes a bit of luck, mostly planting seeds. Positive reinforcement helps us learn a new way of living and loving.

As a child, I tried to “manage” the chaos with my toddler brain. I learned to cope based on my baby mind. As I grew, I learned to not ask for help and still processed how to keep alive based on limited skills. My emotional quotient was also stunted.
Vowing to not ask anyone for assistance was my hallmark decision. Historically, I would ask and I would be hit, denied, dismissed, belittled and hurt or it would cost me. It helped me in some ways to become staunchly independent. When help would be offered, I would dismiss it and there were times I felt betrayed. As an adult, I would get help when I needed something repaired. However, I tried to make sure I paid money for it so I wouldn’t owe anyone anything. A struggle was getting offers of help and discovering how high that price was or not trusting it was an altruistic gesture.
Therapy helped me a lot. I forged healthier friend relationships. Trial, error, corrections and a bruised heart, a healing heart. Being brave to change the outcome and asking for help. It is not a do-it-yourself job here on earth.

I practiced asking for help. If it came with strings, I passed on it. It was one way for me to love myself. It has taken many years and I am much better and more confident about asking for help. I would help others when asked. That was my way of loving others.

Sometimes, the challenge was to discern if I or another person when asking is a rescue or actually help with their participation. It is a joint working together for a resolution. I have been a fixer for a long time. I am much, much better because I ask more pointed questions like what is it you are wanting help with or how can I be of best help? Clarity is an important aspect to get more of what you prefer. The important part of loving yourself is spend time figuring out what you truly do want and to ask for what you want and need. It takes practice to trust yourself to know. Asking for help is also a way of loving yourself.

A book that helped me was The 5 Love Languages by Gary Chapman. I thought the way I wanted to be shown love was what he wanted. After taking the test, I discovered one of the ways of love for him is when I do a chore he usually does. I feel loved when he does acts of service for me. We both like affection like holding hands.

Even though I am still guarded, I have been blessed with wonderful friendships of friends who love me and share that with me and I with them. My husband tells me he loves me, every day. My son tells me how important I am to him and that he loves me, too. It has taken time, asking for help and unwavering commitment for me to heal more and let that seep through the cracks in my heart. More and more, I am finding comfort in that. May you take the steps for loving people to love you, too.

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Most of my life, I have been tired. I have gone to the doctors to figure out what is wrong, why my energy level lagged. I was tired when I went to bed and almost as tired when I got up. My blood tests showed normal (whatever their normal is). More often, they would not know or attribute it to depression. I would try the different medications to no avail. I was still tired. I felt frustrated dragging through the day, everyday. I felt mentally spent.

On the way to work a month ago, I sighed, expressing how tired I was. I heard a voice ask me, “What are you tired of?” My body and mind was telling me all along. I kept ignoring it. The concern I had was the feeling of overwhelm. I rattled off a number of things. So as I was listing what I am tired of, foremost the pandemic, I tied it back to the challenges of my childhood. What I am tired of amounts to many filled train cars and I am the engine that chugs along, hauling history, past and present.

Growing up in an abusive family, there is plenty of baggage that comes along, including many generations of past abuses, passed on to me. I ended up carrying that cross of generational pain. We were told to carry those burdens silently. Later on in life, I was told it was my cross to bear. But is it? How did it become my responsibility to carry generations, both maternal and paternal, of painful history? It looks like it became a rite of passage, to carry it, relieving those burdens (to some degree) of the others.

For the list: are you tired of the pandemic; waiting to see what happens before planning a wedding or funeral; birthday celebrations; meeting friends and getting hugs? Stuff going on at work? Relationships that bear little to no fruit? Jealousy of others? Struggling with finances? Ongoing health issues of yourself or partner/family member? Depression and anxiety? Keeping up with housework and laundry? Traffic? Pain from the past? Resentments and bitterness from past relationships or disappointment in family interactions? People being rude and uncaring? People snapping at you and being short-tempered? Political commercials? Feeling just giving all you have to just keep up while running on fumes? Loss of purpose and direction? Losing yourself in the mire?

With the pandemic and quarantine, we have had to look at our lives differently. Some still went to work Thank you to all. Some ended up either working from home or furloughed and stayed at home. It became an opportunity to catch up on household projects. I got my spring cleaning done and cleared out some nooks and crannies. More busy work. I also noticed how exhausted I was. Running from one place to the next, keeping up, even while supposedly taking rest breaks. The guilt (and shame) of being “unproductive” ate at me. And the daily question, “what’s for dinner?” Yikes!!

It also became an opportunity to see how our relationships are working, or not. The distractions of doing, going, parenting, working kept people enough apart to go along, focusing on things to get done. This quarantine can show the cracks in many parts of our lives that we have postponed. Emotionally reconnecting. Being a better helpmate. Rearranging the chore list for more equitable distribution of time. Even with our friends, that emotional connection is an important lifeline.

What I figured out is not that I am tired; I am weary. To me, being weary is feeling bone and soul tired. The relentless feeling of being overwhelmed. I think on some days, I cannot take one more thing. My plate is stacked so high trying not to spill anything. Figuring out which thing I can take off my plate and resolve which results in increased anxiety. Yes, I even make lists.

I know, I know. People can be glib when they tell me to let it all go; just forget it. It is conditioning of living in chaos. Been in therapy for years, working through the complex nuttiness and fear. Telling the stories of shameful events has been freeing, especially since I was able to without judgment. That is a good place to start. Sharing these stories can put into context whose responsibility it is doing the abuse. Being taught at a very early age it was my fault, I am able to sort out my part and their part and release/return it to the rightful owner or release it to the ethers. We do not always know that there are the parts that do not belong to us or it is our responsibility to carry that burden for the lineage. Addressing these issues can make space for the inner peace.

A couple of weeks ago, I could not stand. I was at the dump, another chore on the list. I got out of my son’s truck and when I stooped, I could not get up no matter how much I tried. One man in a vehicle in front of me saw I was on the pavement and struggling to get up. He came to help me and my legs would not hold me up. Then another guy from behind me came and both lifted me up to no avail. After the second try, the one guy phoned 911. As I waited, the dump supervisor came and moved my son’s truck so it would not be towed. The two paramedics were very kind. I went by ambulance to the hospital. The emergency room could not find anything and I still struggled to walk let alone stand. I was sent home. Slowly I got just enough strength to get up the stairs into the house and used a chair to hold me up to get around. It was quite scary. In two days, using a cane, I was able to walk; even went back to work.

What I saw were people stepping up to help me. Our neighbors, my friends. I was very touched about the kindness and the outpouring of love. (This happened a few days after my husband had major surgery.) Turned out I had a mini-stroke likely brought on by stress. High stress can contribute to health issues, too. It can be linked to not allowing or asking for help.

There are two areas we are to learn: how to love and how to be loved. I am learning how to be loved. Sometimes the universe has a way to get your attention to release to train cars so we can learn how to be loved by others.

One of the things I am doing for me now is a daily Zoom meditation practice that connects me with spirituality and loving supportive people. That has begun to make a difference. I am also trying to ask for something from people twice a day and learn to be okay with it.

As I begin the process of lightening the load, releasing the piles and piles of history, breaking off the pieces of the cross, I can regain inner peace. I am learning to release how much I care, discerning how much I can actually do about the situation and which are other people’s issues that I took on. I believed if I could not fix it or hold things/relationships together, I am a failure. That is magical thinking and relieves others from (perceived) responsibility to figure it out. I learned it is not good for me to be more invested in them than they are of themselves.

Just naming the parts of your life that are tiring is a place to start. We can sort them out, one by one, to see what we can do about it versus the things we cannot then try to let it go. Hand it over. The pandemic is something we cannot control, just the things that impact our daily lives. Give grace to allow for change and growth. We cannot solve perfectly, just good enough. And some days, we need to feel being good enough is enough.

When I was 19 years old, my father and step-mother began the process to have me committed to the state hospital. I have lived in fear growing up, trying to avoid, and then wait and anticipate the next traumatic event to occur. If I was angry, sad or happy, I had to go to my room until I learned to behave. The only two emotions I could exhibit at home were numb and terror.

As I was experiencing an emotional crisis wrapped in intense ongoing fear at 19, I heard what they were planning. My mind raced around frantically. I knew that going into that place would likely not end well for me. The other factor I considered was this: if I do not want someone else to control me as was my growing up experience, I will HAVE to be in charge of me. Pull it together and look as functional as I could. Stuff and numb. Comply or die. Fear controlled my choices and decisions. The agitation inside was non-stop. I learned how to be stoic on the outside even though the swirling churning stuff leaked out.

Since I felt so worthless, I tried to be good enough, soon enough, fast enough, be more than enough, get it right enough and continue as a human doing. I believed when I did twice as much at half the price, I would be accepted and valued. This belief fueled my daily and work life. I wanted to fit in, be accepted, feel okay and worthy so I tried harder to overcompensate for my perceived shortcomings. One job, I ended up doing four people’s positions (other employees left or went on medical leave). They postponed hiring others as a way to save money. I kept up the workloads and I finally started to crumble under the stress. I believed that if I could not keep up the pace of the job, they would get someone else who would do it better and cheaper. Again, there was that fear of not being or doing enough. The intertwining of fear and stress wore me out and I was exhausted nearly all of the time. It is a lot of history to carry inside my body and mind.

My life ran around that system whether I was working, raising my son, keeping up with the house, going to school, volunteering and more. After my son was born, a person told me that if she saw anything she deemed I did “wrong,” she would have my son taken away. That fear rose up again so I remained in “numb” and “fear” functioning mode while aiming for perfection out of fear. Even though being in therapy helped, this concurrent operating system was not addressed. I would do more and more and be so exhausted with this underlying operating system, I would drop off to sleep so tired to stay numb so I would not feel. When I fell short or my boss would say something to me, I would emotionally beat myself up for not doing enough. I learned to become more invisible while I did my work as a way of avoidance.

Running and running away from fear as fast as I could add to greater stress. I believed my worthiness depended on being a human doing. If I touched on the edges on my humanity of being, fear would drive me even harder to find that elusive “enough.” It became further and further away.

In a class, I read the book, Healing the Shame that Binds You,” by John Bradshaw. One thing I read that clicked was that as humans, we have limitations. Huh. It felt like a relief valve that granted me breathing room. On the outside, I was a bit calmer. I went on with my life, filling it with doing things. I felt guilty for not getting as much done. That list I created never is cleared off. I was still running, measuring my worth and moving forward by how many projects, tasks and errands done. Each item crossed off meant I had provided value today. It reminds me of the Dom in Cologne, Germany. If the work on that cathedral stopped, the world would end and it has been under repairs since 1285. If I stopped, I feared I would become catatonic and sink into darkness.

I was sharing this with Melanie the other day and she pointed out how I am still running on fear. It still is going on as a background program. Some people may see me as unfriendly, shut down and unavailable when it is overload, fear and disconnection, a default of that program. Trust is a factor along with fear. Growing up in turmoil and pain, learning about how to trust and know the nuances of who to trust and who not to trust is so skewed and jumbled. Having people tell me to “just trust me” has proven to be false pretenses at times. I would be upset with me as I felt so stupid because I believed and played a fool. I cast a bit of suspicion, just waiting it out to see how it goes.

I realize now with that background operating system of fear, it interferes with happiness and joy. When this came into my awareness, it is something I am working on to replace. Fear is a powerful control factor as well as a deterrent to moving forward.

It has taken time and grace to move along to trust me first to make decisions on what I want and need. I am still measured in my asking with most people as I don’t want to bother anyone. Just knowing what my needs and wants is a big step forward then putting them into words to ask. I am grateful that now I have friends and family in my life that is solid and gives me room to make my way through while still learning what works and what no longer serves me.

There is no easy path navigating this maze or easy answers. We turn and bump into another wall. We try, it does not work. We try again.

 

The Lost and the Found: Who saved who

Every once in awhile, we are blessed when someone comes into our life, offering us a lifeline. It was another dark period in my life (one of many). My son and I lived in our house for a few years and an opportunity arose to adopt a cat. Since my son was allergic to most cats, it had to be the right cat. He did not react to this one, so we were able to bring him home.

The story of Chat Botte (CB) touched my heart. He was kept in a small basement room for creating kittens. At eight years old, he “aged out” from the cattery and was put up for adoption. When we brought him home, he was terrified. The house space was so large; he did not get to look outside windows before, bask in the sun or was able to sleep on the sofa and he certainly wasn’t used to being loved and wanted for being himself.

As time went on, he slowly became accustomed to being a cat. Because CB was older, we were blessed to adopt a kitten for my son who became the love of his life. It was endearing when this kitten was a bit rambunctious and how CB took care of him to help him grow up with some sort of manners. Just seeing the quiet nurturing CB offered to Doo was heartwarming, how kind he was to let this kitty into his heart.

As we progressed in trust and patience, we filled a void in our lives, offering the comfort and snuggling that meant so much for both of us. I have had other pets before and loved them. CB, he was so different and special. Maybe it was the space I was in, our stories, the deep despondent type of loneliness that my most sweet, sweet lovable boy filled for me and me for him. He became the patriarch with the others. We had our bedtime ritual, too. He knew my routine and refused to participate when I was on my right side in bed. He waited until I turned over on my left side, I lifted up the covers. He traveled down to my knee, turned around and went right into the crook of my arm. We scooched together and fell asleep snuggling.

I am blessed to have had him for nine years. To me, nine years was not enough. When you have that one special one, the pet that can love us unconditionally who knows when we need that little extra attention and acknowledgement to fill those empty spaces. It seems like when we rescue a pet, they can rescue us.

CB really filled a lot of those spaces. When he passed, I cried and cried for weeks. I cried more for the loss of my beloved cat than I did for people when they passed. My heart felt so broken and I wondered how I can feel whole again.

He has been gone for 15 years and my heart is healing. I still miss him every day. I catch a glimpse of him and occasionally feel him rub up against my leg. Because of him, my heart has softened and I have allowed me to be open to others I have learned to trust enough to let some inside. Like CB allowed his trust and love to unfold, so have I. I think a big part of being able to marry again was because of his impact on my life.

Pets seem much safer to open our hearts up as there is that unconditional love and kindness whereas people can be more hurtful and demanding. Of course, cats have their demands. Dogs have owners; cats have servants. Yet, our pet relationships can feel like a safer option than people.

I was lost; he was lost. We found each other and were blessed by gaining healing love. We both took that chance.