What I didn’t do differently,

My parents are/were addicts. Many close to me

are addicts (in recovery and active addiction)

I get asked often, why not you? What did you do differently?

The answer: Nothing.

The long answer: I have other addictive features.

I have OCD and anxiety and it has run my life. I have poor body image, poor treatment of self. I haven’t cared very well for myself. I have been self destructive. I have hurt family and friends. I have done things that I am not proud of and things that aren’t true to myself.

I am not an addict of alcohol or drugs, but I am in recovery.

It wasn’t like I came to a fork in the road and had to make a choice between drugs and obsessing over how to perfect my life and all the poor behavior that comes with that. It’s just the way my life played out for me.

See, the answer is all of us picked poor coping skills. All of us are in need of recovery. All of us are in need of help and healing. And none of us are less than the other for the way we coped.

All of us have experienced unimaginable trauma and weren’t given the tools or space or time to cope. Leaving us to our vices.

I can’t speak for all addicts, but what I know is an addict is just someone who has been hurting for too long. And the only way to truly help them once they’ve gotten sober is to see them, love them and help them build a better tool box of coping skills.

This meme, now that I have fixed it, is much more helpful to all of us than blaming the addict for not having a good perspective.

My parents taught me the kind of love I deserve.

This journey of healing that I am on, I have often wondered if there was ever going to be a moment of rest. Or it being in a constant state of being uncomfortable. Sometimes, I just want to be done, I just want a break from growing. I know, life is all about growing, but this is exhausting. I need a recharge. I need a pause hard stop to catch my breath. I need the changes I started making 3 years ago to show. And in some ways, I know that my life is better. But in other ways I still feel I am fighting BIG demons. Demons that I was born into and demons I created. Healing was always I thought I was doing but until I found a trauma therapist, I was just surviving and reliving my childhood trauma. I realized I was falling into similar relationships that mimicked the relationships with my parents. It’s an odd feeling to know that you actively tried to avoid to repeat patterns. And then learn that you repeated patterns that you weren’t even aware of. It might be obvious to you that when someone withholds affection or money from you that it’s in an unacceptable behavior from a partner. It might be obvious when you meet someone and they don’t want to know your life story that they don’t want to know you. It extends into how you allow your friends, co workers or bosses treat you.

My father wasn’t around growing up and when he was drunk or high which caused him to be angry and jealous. I don’t have a specific memory of him hitting me, but I do have many memories of how he hit my mom, throwing her very pregnant body down steps, yelling and berating her. I remember wanting to build a bomb shelter to protect us. Because often the fighting was so bad and loud I thought bombs were going off. My mother was around for about 9 years of my life. My mother sober was amazing, loving, creative and fun, best mom ever stuff. But my mother drunk and high, she was worst mother ever stuff. Black out drunk, slaps across my face for not keeping the kids quiet or not cleaning up the kitchen after I making and feeding my siblings and I meals. Constant yelling about how I need to grow up, how I am a baby and spoiled brat. She made me lock away her secrets. I was scared to ask for help, scared to make mistakes, scared to want. And when her addiction worsened, we were no longer safe. She left us with strangers that hurt us, bugs that ate at us, and a life that I would compare to pure hell. And then she left. I was cared for collectively by her family. I know they love us. I know they did their best. But, we rarely talked about it. It was our little dirty family secret. My mother and I and my siblings were the dirty messy secret.

What I didn’t know is that even being aware of not repeating the same behaviors, I would in fact invite those behaviors into my life. Even though I “knew” better, it’s still all I knew in my body, in my heart. My parents taught me the kind of love I deserve. After children, the trauma felt unbearable and I had to do something. I have to learn to love myself, the way I deserve to be loved, the way everyone deserves to be loved. And on some days, I love myself enough. But most days those demons win. And I just wish the enough days out weigh the demon days.

"Love yourself unconditionally, just as you love those closest to you despite their faults." -Les Brown

Dear Strong One.

Dear Strong One,

Like you, I am always pretending that everything is fine. Like you, I have to convince myself that I have a complete handle on life and all it is throwing me.  Like you, I know that you say it’s fine because it has to be. Like you, I think if you dare understand how much is being thrown at you, you may actually break down and who knows what or who is on the other side of that break down. Like you, I know that even though you brush it aside all the “I am proud of yous,” you actually really need to hear it. 

I am here to tell you that I am proud of you. Like you, I know that will sound like an expectation. Like you, my brain turns all compliments into some kind of standard. Like you, it feels like a cycle that never ends.  Like you, I need validation and like you, I also need to realize someone being proud of me, is in the moment praise, not another expectation.

Like you, I need to be reminded that you will still be loved when you break. Like you, I need to be reminded that I am lovable for who you are.  Like you, I need to be reminded that you are perfect for being just you. Like you, I am scared because I have been this person always trying to achieve a level of perfection to be loved and I am not sure of the person under of that is one that will be loved or liked.

Like you, I deserve to be loved anyways.

Dear Strong One, I see you. Dear Strong One, you are worthy. Dear Strong One, you deserve love for who you are. Dear Strong One, you weather storms with perfection but that isn’t who you are and it isn’t why you are loved and liked. Dear Strong One, it’s okay to rest. Dear Strong One, I love you, for you.

“To have faith is to trust yourself to the water. When you swim you don't grab hold of the water, because if you do you will sink and drown. Instead you relax, and float.” - Alan Watts

Dear Meredith.

Dear Meredith,

I have been feeling anxious for the past week. I have been searching for some relief, doing my grounding work (and it does help tons) but I always know it means my brain is working on something. I was just waiting for the dream that usually follows the anxiety attacks. And last night I had a dream about my mother. It was clear, like it really happened. I think it’s the first dream I have ever had of her. It was at the house my aunt and uncle lived in 20 years ago. I felt like kid me too. There was a knock at the door and my uncle opened the door and I was at the top of the steps and there she was. Standing at the door with a smile on her face, her brown hair parted down the middle, a white v-neck sweater like shirt tucked into a pair of blue jeans, carrying her keys and a pack of Marlboro reds in her hand. It felt was so real, I was excited to be back with her. That she came back to us. The missing her was over, I was relieved that she didn’t leave us forever. I woke up with some happiness in my heart that I got to be with her once again. But it was quickly met with sadness, my dreams weren’t true. My childhood wasn’t a nightmare, it was real. I am still faced with grieving her and missing her. I still have to get up and do the work. It can feel like she was never here and then here all the time. I see her everywhere. But sometimes I question if I ever knew her. But most of all I miss her, I miss hoping to see her.

And I am sad that I didn’t have a mom like me. I had a mom that was capable of being a mom like me and in some moments she was but in most moments her demons controlled the person and mother that she was. And maybe that’s whats in my head and making me anxious. Maybe it’s just really hard and rewarding to be the mom I wanted and needed.

She is still a prisoner of her childhood; attempting to create a new life, she reencounters the trauma.”  - Judith Lewis Herman

I was looking for a photo to post of her smiling (which was rare) and then I saw this one, her in a white sweater and blues jeans. 

Dear Meredith

My therapist is on maternity until sometime in January and she and I made some plans for me for the weeks she was out to stay grounded. It was to continue using our appointment time for me, to meditate, yoga, read, write and rest. This is the second week, I did 45 minutes of yoga and was going to leave it at that. But something I am really proud of today happened and I really wanted to share my achievement with Meredith, my therapist. So, I am going to try something. Every Thursday while Meredith is on leave, I will make a Dear Meredith blog post.

Dear Meredith,

Today, I advocated all by myself. Today, I felt confidence in my own advocacy.

It’s snowing, schools were delayed the night before and cancelled by 6 am this morning. I don’t usually go into work until 12:30 pm. The forecast called for about 2 inches of snow, with a wintery mix and turn to all rain by 12 pm. I didn’t think anything of it, I’d be fine driving into work. Well, noon comes around and it’s still snowing and we are at about 4 inches and there are cars stuck on the road behind my house. I start questioning my ability to drive into work. I ask the other employees in my office about how it looks there and they agree that the roads look tricky and unsure of what the weather is going to do. Someone calls our boss who lives in another county south of us and typically warmer than us, and her response is “it’s raining here and we told patients you were going to be there, soooooo.” I waited and waited, I grew more and more upset because I can see the roads, I can see people pushing their cars up the street behind my house. Our county government has now called to warn people to stay off the roads, That there are numerous accidents which would delay any help if you so needed it. I didn’t want to risk my safety. I also didn’t want to disappoint anyone. I didn’t want to have to leave my coworkers high and dry. And then finally I decided, it was not worth my safety or anyone else’s to drive to work. And I felt confident that it was the right call and I sent the message, that if we weren’t going to decide to close in the next 10 minutes I was going to make the call for myself that I wasn’t leaving the safety of my home. They ended up closing the office and I never really had to actually call out. If you know me, deciding to do something is just as strong as me doing it. I am stubborn, like it’s my middle name.

I went about my business, thinking about making lunch and what to do with this day off, and BAM it hit me, I ADVOCATED FOR MY SAFETY. And it didn’t matter what anyone thought about it. It didn’t matter if someone was going to think less of me for not wanting to risk my safety. They can call me a coward, call me a wimp, call me whatever you want, but I will be a safe one of those things. This is a big day for me because I have doubted myself for so long. I haven’t trusted my gut. I would be mean to myself about the decisions I have made. But not today. I made a decision for my safety, I advocated for myself and I was confident about it.

There is a marrying of little Kristy and today Kristy happening, and it’s beautiful. I am no longer afraid of what little Kristy’s have to share with me or their emotions. They are the innocent Kristy sharing their wisdom with me. And I have noticed the more welcoming I am to them, the more peaceful I am.

“Never apologize for trusting your intuition – your brain can play tricks, your heart can blind, but your gut is always right.” Rachel Wolchin

“There is a voice that doesn’t use words. Listen.” Anonymous

Love yourself more to hate less.

 "Hate. It has caused a lot of problems in the world, but has not solved one yet." Maya Angelou

When I first went to therapy, Meredith (my therapist) would talk to me about loving and showing compassion to myself. For 2 years I struggled with this, struggled with the thought that I might become a narcissist, that I would get lost in being compassionate to myself that I wouldn't have any for anyone else. Meredith repeatedly reassured me that I would have even more love and compassion than I currently had. About a year ago, I started to really make steps to show myself compassion and love. I allowed myself space to be sad and then space to be angry, which lead to an understanding that my past cannot be changed, AND then I showered myself with confidence that I did everything as best as I could and that was enough. I didn't have to question myself and my actions anymore. And when I realized that, if you can believe it, my compassion and love grew. I felt the hate start to pour out of my body. I felt sad for those I had once been disappointed in, sad for those I once was angry with, I no longer felt hatred for them. I felt a greater sense of love and compassion for them than I had ever had before.

Meredith was right all along, a when I stop hating myself, my hate will disappear. When I show myself compassion, my compassion grew.

My love and compassion has grown larger than I could have ever imagined. My heart has become more open and free than ever before.

With this post, I encourage you, when you are feeling anything other than love and compassion for someone, to look inward and try to find out what needs compassion and/or love inside of you. Loving and showing compassion to yourself is the first step to reducing hate.

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#hatenomore #loveheals #selfloveheals #blogger #momblogger #mentalhealthawareness #love #compassion #selflove #therapy #practicekindness #anxiety #ocd #ptsd

The mocking pile of clothes.

About a month ago I wanted to go through my clothes and donate what I no longer wear or fit in. I had taken a bunch of clothes out of my closet and made a pile to go through. I ran out of time and put the pile in my dresser. And then I traveled. And then school started for the kids and I. The pile has grown and over flowed into 2 buckets. And I just haven’t found the time to put it all away. And at first I felt good about the pile, I had let go of a mess. I was giving up some control. After some time, the pile started to mock me. It said, you’re lazy, you’re a bad mom, you’re dirty,  you’re a horrible house keeper. And it grew in size, it just felt too big to conquer. I believed the pile when it mocked me. It was a daily reminder of how worthless I am. Then, 2 days ago, I walked by the pile and I saw sadness. And I realized that I am depressed. That pile is my depression in visible form. I didn’t think I had depression. I wasn’t having any suicidal thoughts. I wasn’t stuck in my bed all day. I wasn’t sad all the time. I woke up everyday ready to take on the world. I laughed and smiled and I went to work. I went out with friends. I played with my kids and had fun. I ate and I still exercised. I continued to do every day like every other day. I didn’t think I was depressed because my life didn’t look any different. Except my inability to conquer this pile of clothes. Except this pile of clothes mocked me all day long. I looked at that pile of clothes, growing, mocking me and making me less able to conquer anything. I finally saw this pile as the growing and never ending sadness I was feeling inside.

Once I was able to see the pile of clothes as my depression expressed outwardly, it made it feel a little lighter. I felt like I could try and conquer it.  I think just acknowledging it allowed me to have more compassion for myself.

Depression isn’t always what it looks like. Depression isn’t always suicidal, depression isn’t always debilitating, depression isn’t always outward sadness. That doesn’t mean you aren’t depressed. Sometimes it’s an overwhelming feeling that something will never end and that you will never conquer that feeling.

“That is all I want in life: for this pain to seem purposeful.”  - Elizabeth Wurtzel

“When you're lost in those woods, it sometimes takes you a while to realize that you are lost. For the longest time, you can convince yourself that you've just wandered off the path, that you'll find your way back to the trailhead any moment now. Then night falls again and again, and you still have no idea where you are, and it's time to admit that you have bewildered yourself so far off the path that you don't even know from which direction the sun rises anymore.”  - Elizabeth Gilbert

“There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds.” - Laurell K. Hamilton

“That's the thing about depression: A human being can survive almost anything, as long as she sees the end in sight. But depression is so insidious, and it compounds daily, that it's impossible to ever see the end.” -Elizabeth Wurtzel

Love What Matters.

This is a story about my cousin, Gigi. She died tragically last December in a car accident. I miss her everyday. She was one of most beautiful souls I have ever met. She became an aunt a few months before she passed away. The proudest day of her life was the day she became Aunt Gigi. She was a friend to everyone. A sister to anyone who needed or wanted one. She was someone who would surprise people with balloons, coffee, a meal, a card, with one of her amazing hugs. She made sure that you knew you were loved and not alone. She was always excited to celebrate with you. She proudly wore her heart on the outside and there was never a doubt about how lovely she was. Gigi was never afraid to spend her money or her time to help a friend and no one she met was ever a stranger after that. Her cats Leah and Nimbus were her babies. I am lucky to have to have them in my home. They give me her love everyday. They cuddle and kiss and they’re just the most loving beings like her. I would give almost anything to have Gigi back here Earthside. Since her passing our family decided to engage in Gigi-style acts of random kindness. It started a few days before Christmas last year when we gathered at Walmart on Christmas Eve ‘Eve’ for the annual Christmas shopping trip that she would have with her Mom, aunt, sister and cousin all while wearing pajamas. We decided that we should continue the tradition in our own way. This time however we wanted to give random people gift cards or envelopes with money just to honor Gigi’s love and kindness. Then for her birthday in August we secretly bought cakes for families celebrating birthdays that month. As families picked up their cakes and saw the card we designed awareness grew rapidly and people around the country ended buying cakes in Gigi’s honor to keep the Love moving forward. Then it turned into some people buying gifts for others in Target or a months worth of free coffee to anyone who needed it. A few of the recipients of the cakes posted to their facebook page and we got to see Gigi’s kindness and love come around full circle. Her love came back to us. We are making up more Gigi kindness business cards to continue little acts of love and kindness all year round. Gigi’s body may not be here, but her spirit is and will continue to spread love and kindness through us. I couldn’t think of a better legacy to leave.

The scariest night in my adult life.

This week has been really tough on me. Tuesday night my worst nightmare was coming true. If you have read any of my other posts you know that I am petrified of a home invasion. That I have difficulty sleeping and feeling safe. Over the past year, I have been working on it and that I have improved. But Tuesday night I was woken at 12:16 am to what I thought was my window alarm going off. I went right to my ring door bell app to see what may have caused it. I was thinking the worst but in my head I was saying to myself that it was just one of the cats or maybe the dog. Opened up the ring door bell app and there was a man I had never seen before, trying to open my front door and it was my keypad alarm that was going off.  A man was at my door, in the middle of the night trying to break into my home and I was alone with my 2 kids. I yelled into my phone (you can speak to the person through the app) “This is not your home, leave now and I am calling 911.” And he did not leave. He just kept trying to enter a pin number. I called 911 and moved to the front of the house where I could see him at my door from the second floor window. He left my door and went to his car parked in the street. I saw him root around in his car and then return to my door. It was dark and so obviously I couldn’t tell if he had a weapon. I remained on the phone with the 911 dispatcher while I walked all around the second floor of my home looking for something to use to injure the man if he did succeed in entering my home. I grabbed a curling iron first because something in my hand just felt better and then I saw my vacuum cleaner. That was my plan, I’d throw the vacuum cleaner down from the top of the steps onto him if he got in and hope that it knocked him out until the cops got there. My daughter woke up about 15 minutes in and I had to tell her that there was a man at the door trying to get in and that I was on the phone with the cops and to stay put and be quiet. I felt completely frozen, I felt like I wasn’t doing anything to protect my family. I was scared for my life, for my children’s life. I was waiting for the moment when I would hear this mans foot steps in my home and I would have to make another decision for our safety. Luckily I didn’t have to, about 15  minutes after I made the 911 call the police arrived. I was finally able to breathe. They were outside with the man and I could breathe. I could tell my daughter that we were safe. And the tears just came running down my face. I suddenly had to pee, and I was sweating. I was hot. And out of breath. None of the things I noticed before. I still had to stay inside and wait for the police to come to me. About 10 minutes later the cops knocked on my door and reported that the man was drunk. And my next door neighbor was passed out in his car. Apparently my neighbor and the man that was trying to enter my home were out at the bar and the man was driving him home, I suppose he was the lesser drunk of the two since my neighbor was unable to be woken. And he thought that my home was his.  I confirmed that the other man in the car was indeed my neighbor. I asked to police officers if his car was going to be moved because if it was there in the morning I wouldn’t be able to get out to work. They informed me that his wife was on her way. I still in shock trying to calm down asked them if there was anything else I was needed for, they said no and then the man tried to get into his car and move it. They got him out, his wife arrived. I went and locked up the house, put chairs in front of the doors. Set a few more “booby traps” and went to bed to comfort my daughter. I also sat on the phone with a friend until I fell asleep because I just needed to know that I wasn’t alone. My daughter and I were restless and I tried to explain to her (and me) that we were safe. That it was a mistake. That all of our safety precautions in fact worked to keep us safe. I eventually put on our mediation app, Headspace and we finally fell asleep after 3 am. I had nightmares that night about ants invading my home, and killer ants the size of my face living in the piping that connects my ring door bell to my home. We all woke up, my daughter told my son all the things he missed and we talked more about safety. And we went on with our day, school and work. Being sure my kids knew that if they needed to talk about it that they could, with their teacher, counselors, anyone.  We are still all shook up, and I am back to decorating my home in booby traps before bed. The fear I had experienced was devastating. I thought I was going to be sexually assaulted, I thought I was going to have to fight with my whole self to protect me and the kids. I thought we were going to die for 20 minutes. I didn’t know if were going to live. The fear of this is still inside me. I am having a hard time recognizing that all my actions were perfect. All systems worked, all systems protected.

But I just can’t stop thinking that I didn’t my job well. I don’t quite know what that’s all about yet.

I am okay, I am safe. I will be okay. I just need to do more of my coping mechanisms and have very loving and compassionate conversations with myself. Which is not my specialty. I guess I need the practice anyways. 

Writing it out helps me process everything, helps me heal from it and I really appreciate you reading this if you have gotten this far. And I want to say that this event was extremely traumatic to me and my children and I will probably always remember how I felt.  But that it was just a hiccup to those men. That they may not even remember it. And if they did it will be funny that the cops were called because he was at the wrong door. That it was just a mistake to them. A funny drunk story.  But to me, I am forever going to bank this a traumatic moment, a time my safety was breached, a time where I legitimately thought I was going to lose my life, my children’s life. It was a real threat.

 “After a traumatic experience, the human system of self-preservation seems to go onto permanent alert, as if the danger might return at any moment.” ― Judith Lewis Herman

“The strongest oak of the forest is not the one that is protected from the storm and hidden from the sun. It’s the one that stands in the open where it is compelled to struggle for its existence against the winds and rains and the scorching sun.” ―Napoleon Hill

This was what I saw. This is burned into my head. 

Writing prompt day # 1

Today is the first of 4 nights of writing. I’ve started this writing challenge for trauma and it consists of 4 consecutive days of writing for 20 minutes a day about the things that bother you during the day and keep you up at night. Here goes.

Monday night 9/17/18

Death. Being scared of dying. Dying to soon. Not being ready to die. Dying suddenly. Just dying. Missing out on all the amazing things this world still has to offer. Not seeing my kids anymore. Not knowing anymore love. It makes my body warm up, my chest hurt, my stomach turn. It worries me so much. My earliest memory of this fear is when I was 6 or 7, maybe earlier. I was at my grandparents house. On Ralworth Rd, in the front bedroom, which I think at the time was “the boys room.” On the bottom bunk, I think the carpet in that room was blue. I laid there, praying to God, not to take me in my sleep. I would repeat this over and over and over again until I fell asleep. There were so many nights I silently prayed to stay alive. I am sure there have been some nights that my brain didn’t remind me of my mortality. But they are few and far between. There are many times during the day when I am reminded of it. Now, I also think about my children’s mortality. I believe what I feel in my gut is a blessing and a curse. I am forever aware my short presence here on Earth and the chance that I won’t ever be here again and so maybe I won’t even take it for granted, maybe I work a little harder on myself. And care a little more about everything around me just to maintain survival. Just to ensure my safety. Which is what I suppose this massive fear all stems from.  The fact that I am very aware of how NOT safe I am. How anyone at any given time can take that away from me, for their own reasons, whatever they may be. And see, in my life experience, humans aren’t the nicest people. I have had plenty of them hurt me, especially adults hurt me. Me as a child was hurt by the ones that are supposed to love me most. Also hurt by people they didn’t keep away from me. And I guess, my general feeling is that I am not safe. This world isn’t safe. And that I need to be aware, I need to be in control because no one else is going to do it for me. They didn’t before. Humans are flawed and egocentric, why would they care about endangering me, a nobody. How am I ever going to walk this earth, and not be on guard? But how can I spend the rest of my life being on guard. I know it’s not healthy for me. I know that it’ll actually increase my chances of being hurt and my death. I don’t know, I just want to be lighter, I just want to be confident. I just want to live forever. I can’t believe that even after everything I have been through, all the pain I have felt. That I find being alive a far better than being not here.

Parts of me that will make me whole.

Part of me….

knows I am safe

Part of me….

knows I am strong

Part of me….

knows I am loved

BUT

Part of me…

thinks everyone will leave

Part of me…..

thinks I have much suffering left to do

Part of me….

thinks I am stupid

Part of me…

thinks I am mean

Parts of me…

thinks I am too much and not enough at the same time

Part of me…

thinks I am fat and ugly

Part of me…

thinks I am not worthy

Part of me... 

thinks I am always wrong

Part of me…

knows I am going to die

Part of me…

knows what it feels like to starve

Part of me…

knows what it’s like to be abandoned

Part of me…

knows what it’s like to be beaten

Part of me…

knows what it’s like to have your mom beaten by your father

Part of me…

knows what it’s like for your mother to slap you up and scream at you for not having the house clean while she was blacked out

Part of me…

knows what it’s like to have sex forced on me at age 8 by a man and then by another man with another little girl

Part of me…

knows how to keep it all a secret

All of me…

wants to be whole

All of me …

wants to be loved

All of me…

wants peace

I knew pain, heartbreak, trauma, tragedy, and abandonment all by the age of 10.

We are all born with parts of ourselves and through normal childhood development they all come  together to make you, the adult. My parts didn’t get a chance to develop, they were busy keeping me alive. They put up walls, road blocks and warnings.  Over the last year I have been trying to make a new map, take down walls, set up new roads and reduce the warnings. And I will admit that my brain is quieter than ever before. But that doesn’t mean it’s quiet, it doesn’t mean that most of my days aren’t hard and it most certainly doesn’t mean I am done.

Over the past 2 weeks, I have had many, many happy moments, but each one brought a soul crushing doom and gloom devastating feeling in my chest that I was unable to shake. Per my usual, I walk into therapy and tell her that I really think that my brain is so used to pain and trauma that it’s triggered by the uncertainly of happiness or being scared that it’s going to be taken from me. I was eager to get started on letting go of this feeling. But she told me I had to work backwards. We talked about this part of me that’s scared. And that I need to unburden her. I need to sit with her and process the fear. And that is going to be a challenge. Because the best way I can describe this fear is a long, dark well. The one that’s dark, the one where you throw a coin down and it takes so long to hear a noise,  you’re not sure it actually made it to the bottom. She commented that I might be scared to unburden little Kristy because it wasn’t contained. Which is true, it feels like a endless void. But the truth is, that’s what little Kristy felt. Another part of little Kristy, we call her the manager, would come in and tell us that we didn’t have the time to cry, we don’t have time to sulk and be sad. We didn’t have time to play. We only had time to survive. We had no room for anything else. And now that I am safe, now that I am able, it’s time to allow myself to allow myself to feel scared without the manager telling me I am allowed to. Manager Kristy had her time, she did a perfect job keeping us alive. And it’s time for her to go on vacation. And it’s time for scared little Kristy to be unburdened and allowed to feel, to cry and then to go play with the other parts that I have previously unburdened.

I want all my parts to play, I want them all to feel joy and I want them all to know that I am so proud of them for protecting me. And that I do love them. And I want us to be whole.

“Trauma is personal. It does not disappear if it is not validated. When it is ignored or invalidated the silent screams continue internally heard only by the one held captive. When someone enters the pain and hears the screams healing can begin.”  -Danielle Bernock

I didn't know what I didn't know.

This one is going to be hard for me to get through. Up until recently my struggles have been dealing with being abandoned. Dealing with my parents addictions and as a result their inability to keep me safe. I thought that was all to my story. I thought once I started make peace with their addictions and the abandonment that I would be whole again. But for sometime I have been struggling with my appearance. Am I fat? Am I ugly? Trying to find a balance between being happy and being healthy. But always feeling that my worth is somehow tied to my appearance, to my sexual appeal. I want to say I am the kind of person who has confidence in myself, but I don't. I often find myself asking those around me to compare me to other woman and their shapes because I am unsure of mine. I am not sure what I look like. I had a photo taken of me recently, and immediately I hated it. I revisited the photo a few days later and saw it differently.  I didn't love the photo but I liked it much more. It looked different.

This happens often. I just don't know what I look like. I look at myself in the mirror and sometimes I am not sure what or who is looking back at me.

Ever heard the saying, "I didn't know what I didn't know." This sums me up in so many ways. I didn't know people didn't feel this way. I didn't know to mention it because I didn't know that it was important or worth mentioning. I didn't know that people didn't know what they looked like. I don't know when I am hungry until I am starving. I don't know when I am tired until I am exhausted. My systems only alert me when they are in the red and all alarms are going off. I didn't know that this wasn't normal. 

Walking into therapy today, I wanted to address my confidence in my appearance. I never thought that we would talk about how my body was violated. Today my therapist said, "a lot of people who were physically and sexually violated as a child have difficulty seeing themselves." I immediately said, FULL STOP, that wasn't me. But that's not true, I was. That was me. This body I live in was physically and sexually assaulted. This same body. I may have shed some skin, hair and nails, but this body, this body has endured sexual and physical assault. And ignoring that hasn't served me. It's time for me to give my body love and praise for enduring pain. I must try to be aware of my body. Be in my body. And realize that when I am feeling powerless that it is no longer true. I am in my body now. I have all the power over my body. I can run away, I can hit and punch and defend myself now. It may be the same body but I am no longer in danger. And I am in control of this body. 

"Dissociation gets you through a brutal experience, letting your basic survival skills operate unimpeded…Your ability to survive is enhanced as the ability to feel is diminished…All feeling are blocked; you ‘go away.’ You are disconnected from the act, the perpetrator & yourself…Viewing the scene from up above or some other out-of-body perspective is common among sexual abuse survivors.”  - Renee Frederickson

“Girls are genius at getting through sexual abuse. Often the only way to get through is not to feel. And that is exactly what these fantasy worlds allow: They give girls a place to go so they don't have to be present in their violated bodies. Brilliant.”  - Patti Feuerisen
 

Movies are supposed to be entertainment. I know this. Spoiler alert for the movie Like Father.

This weekend I watched Like Father.

I have been avoiding certain movies like, mystery, scary and suspenseful this past year because they all have been triggering. I suppose movies and shows have always been triggering but I just didn't know it. I didn't expect this movie to trigger me but of course, with PTSD you just never know when something will.

Kristen Bell's character is an asshole who is committed to her work, and unable to connect emotionally (or at all really) with her fiancee. He calls off the wedding at the alter because Kristen Bell's character is pretty much married to her work. She then takes her father on her honeymoon after he shows up at the wedding. Her father has been absent from her most of her life. We find out that she was getting married because she doesn't want to die alone like her mother.  

You find out that the Dad ran a successful business but his business partner and best friend died recently from Alzheimer's and he's also afraid of being alone. That's why he shows up at her wedding. They reconnect and have the best time. There are some small little snafu's but generally speaking shes extremely forgiving. And by the end of the movies they show up for each other. Without so much any therapy for themselves or their relationship. Suddenly this cruise is a fix it all for them.

Usually I adore these movies. Feel good movies. But not this time. I am angry. Do you want to know why? Because nothing in life is close to being anything like this. We have gotten entirely too comfortable with happily ever after. The magical fix. The quick forgiveness.  I know no one wants to watch the show/movie where there isn't a happy ending. But I am sick and tired of stories like mine being short sided. Happily ever after takes time. It takes pain, blood, guts and tears and then it takes all those things repeated over and over again. Cruises don't fix abandonment issues or other traumas. Mom's die from cancer, but sometimes it's cause they were addicts and didn't take care of their bodies. And sometimes they don't have all their children or family by their side when they die. Sometimes people die from Alzheimer's, but not within a couple years of the diagnosis but more than 15 years later while their entire family watched and cared for them. AND sometimes your Dad does come to your wedding. And shows up in your life, and you spend years repairing that relationship to find out he's a real user. The kind of guy who always takes and never gives.  The reality of it all, is that there is never a happily ever after without real work. Work that takes more years than it did to create the trauma. And we need that. We need to see that the hero is the person that survives despite all that could have knocked them down. And stands up and makes promises that it stops at them. The person that wakes up every day and puts both their feet down on the floor and works towards being the best they can. Someone who shows up to therapy every week and does the hard work.  Telling their truth to anyone that wants listen. Lending their ear to anyone that needs to tell theirs. Embracing their fears instead of letting them lead them.  Trying to heal their traumas and make the world a better place, for everyone. That's courage, bravery and strength. Not some delightful fun cruise that suddenly reconnects you with the person that abandoned you. Abandonment and trauma aren't healed in a week. And they aren't healed on vacation.  Sometimes a sorry doesn't heal you. Sometimes, and by that I mean, all times, you have to heal you. There is no magical fix, no running from it, no controlling it, no hiding from it. There is only you fixing you.  

"Oh, yes, the past can hurt. But the way I see it you can either run from it or learn from it." - Rafiki

"There's no such thing as happily ever after, it's just a lie we tell ourselves because the truth is so hard," - unknown

"We repeat what we don't repair." - Christine Langley-Obaugh

*For the record, I didn’t hate the movie. I just wish for something more.

#likefather

#ptsd

#anxiety

#trauma

#abandonment

#netflix

Smashing Pumpkins and pee.

Since last Friday there has been a bunch of stuff that has happened and I hope I can arrange it to make sense and you can follow me to the end. 

Friday was a normal day, I had a fabulous workout, did some cleaning and had plans with a friend to have dinner with and see the Smashing Pumpkins. Got through dinner and headed to the concert, great seats, I was feeling good. Smashing Pumpkins come on, and on the wall behind the band are photos of Billy Corgans childhood, with eyes X'd out, the words ASSASSIN written across photos and 666 and various other things written on them, flashing in front of me, while Billy Corgan is singing Disarm and its powerful and triggering. My brain immediately realizes this is apart of his therapy, and is blown away at how I didn't see it before. And then I immediately felt danger. My brain thought how this would be the perfect time for someone (including the band)  just to light the whole place up. Quickly, I think of a plan in my head, I will keep my purse near by, and use the folding chairs in front of me as a barrier, I notice the exits and realize that we are the closest to back as possible. I begin to settle in and enjoy the show, I have my vigilance to keep me aware and my plan if I need it. I get through most of the show. And suddenly I feel wetness on my leg, I ignore it and then I feel it again and I turn around (we were in the back so there wasn't really anyone behind us) and this guys is peeing all over the place and it’s splashing on me bouncing off the chairs. And I quickly turn back around and completely ignore whats happening. I don't tell security or my friend. I just focus on the stage. I look back to see if he was still there and he was gone. Shew, all over. I then turn to my friend and explain what happened, they are disgusted and we both see to the left of us that the security guard removing the man. And the other security guard is disgusted. My friend spent another 5 minutes trying to focus back on the show but decided that we should leave. I agreed. The whole walk back to the car, the whole drive home I started questioning what happened and my response to what happened. Why didn't I respond? Why did I freeze? How do I fix this? Would I freeze forever when needing to keep myself safe? Do I suck at therapy? Am I working hard enough? 

I spent the rest of the weekend exhausted, unmotivated to do anything, workout, clean.... move.  I had just enough energy to eat. I spent the whole weekend trying to force myself out of be to clean,  to workout, pushing myself to leave the house. But also forcing myself to stay comfy in bed because I am supposed to listen to what little Kristy's need and clearly this one needed me to rest.  The kids cane home after those 2 days and I was able to muster enough energy to care for them and the house and get to me to work and them to camp. But by this time I was beginning to be annoyed with people. People that in the past didn't annoy me where starting to make me angry (I’ve finally learned that this is a good sign that I’m not in self). And I was feeling impulsive, I was very "I want what I want and I want it now."  I was fidgety and then it finally hit me, I was in a little Kristy still. And that I had been this whole time. And when I recognized it I felt a twinge better. And I moved onto trying to figure out how to heal her. I questioned my response to the concert and how we could have handled that better. I probed further into my ability use my tools from therapy. I woke up today feeling relief. I felt like I was back, I had a strong desire to clean, to workout and be out and about. I was me again. And off to therapy I went to sort through this past week. And with a sentence I understand what happened. She asked me if my response at the concert kept me safe.  And yes it did. She reminded me that this Kristy is a protector, she knows what to do to keep you safe, she sized up the situation and felt fight and flight weren't safe, but freeze was. There are many times in her 38 years that she has made the decision to freeze and it kept you safe and she saw this as the appropriate response. And I spent the last few days, DAYS, telling her that I didn't trust her response, that I had to change her. I spent days ignoring her requests to stay home because home is where the safety is.  I spent the weekend trying to relax and I did physically but emotionally I beat up on myself. I have to find a way to trust myself. Trust that my reactions, even if they are different than others, are appropriate for me. And when I need to rest and fill my safety meter up again, that I need to do that, wholly. Not in the pretend way. In the acceptance of myself way. All the Kristy's inside me have been with me all this time, and they have been keeping me safe and I need to love them all for that, I need to trust that they will always keep me safe. And that I need to give them space to feel safe again. 

side note: I was in high school when Smashing Pumpkins came out with all their albums, I felt their music was something I could really relate to. This whole time, I had no idea why, I mean lots if music I feel I just connect to and I never questioned why, I just did. I went to the concert for nostalgia. And I realized many artists are no different than me. Expressing their trauma in their way, in hopes they can heal themselves and help someone else feel less alone. A little Kristy wanted to run up to the stage and hug a little Billy Corgan and ask if he wanted to go outside to play. To be innocent kids, full of love and acceptance. And I hope that he's healing his little Billy's. 

Also, I had a great time despite my triggers. Smashing Pumpkins put on a great show, keep on rocking.

“Soul work is not a high road. It’s a deep fall into an unforgiving darkness that won’t let you go until you find the song that sings you home.” - McCall Erickson

Saturn and it’s rings.

Boundary: something that indicates or fixes a limit or extent. 

Ever since I started therapy I have been learning about boundaries. What they are, why I need them and how to apply them.  I needed something concrete to grasp the concept of boundaries and my therapist introduced this idea that I am walking around with a hula hoop and you are either in or out of the hula hoop. Over the past 2 years I have been re-evaluating the people I keep close to me, the people who deserve to be in my hula hoop and people that don't. Initially this frightened me because I was afraid that I would lose everything and everyone. My vision can be very black and white and if you are not in my hoop than you don't exist (which I now know isn't true). And this fed my very primal and extreme fear of abandonment.  Everyone leaves, no one stays and it's all my fault. And I have walked with this feeling every day of my life since my mom left. I thought that the people in my life didn't chose to be in it, they just felt bad for me or were just doing what they thought was the right thing. They were in my life because they're good people, not because they loved or liked me. Now I was being asked to challenge that feeling of losing these people because I was going to put boundaries up. And for the first year I feared becoming a better me, I feared healing little Kristy's because that would mean no one would stay, I would alone. My mother couldn't even stay so why would anyone else. I still struggle with this but with everyday I grow a little more confident in the feeling that I want people to respect my boundaries and if they can't than I don't want them around.  
In the past, I was letting everyone in, I was letting everyone's feelings and judgement's effect what I was feeling more than my own.

I am growing stronger in the fact that people don't leave me because of me. That in the heart of hearts and truths of truths that my Mother missed me greatly, every second of her life, that she loved me so greatly and it tortured her to have abandoned me. That I could been anyone, anywhere and it still wouldn't have been enough to bring her back. Because the truth is, she abandoned me and that had zero to do with me and everything to do with whatever she was haunted by. She wasn't running from me, she was running from herself. And I don't get to hold that burden for her anymore. It's hers to carry, it should have never been mine. Knowing that truth makes the boundaries a little easier to put down and little easier for me to respect.  

I also learned that boundaries are not permanent, they move and change. Sometimes the people don't even know that you are keeping them at a distance. Because you can still support, love and respect people and still keep them at a distance safe for your well being. You get to say who is allowed inside your hoop.  Now that I have a better understanding of boundaries, I have changed my hula hoop analogy to Saturn and it's rings, it better represents the gray and changing matter of boundaries. I am Saturn and my boundary levels are the rings and depending on how you treat me (or others) depends on how close or far you are from me. How much strength your words and feelings effect me and that can change at any time. 

Applying this to my life has made a huge difference in my confidence. I gave everyone the power to leave me and it was always hanging over my head. That with one wrong decision or comment that they could leave me forever. Hurt me like my Mother. I have been giving everyone that power for as long as I can remember when no one deserved it, it was always mine to keep. I've learned that boundaries keep me safe, they let me love myself. And isn't that what matters the most? 

"We put so much effort into fearing abandonment that we fail to notice the multitude of ways that we're abandoning ourselves. When we give us the love, care, trust and respect we need and have always deserved, we will not accept less than what we can already be and do for ourselves." - Natalie Lue

There is a warrior little Kristy!

The past year I have been working on healing lots of hurt little Kristy's. I was abandoned, I was physically, sexually, emotionally and verbally abused. I was neglected. I talk about all the little Kristy's hurt by my childhood trauma. I always leave one out. I never talk about her, I neglect her often, mainly because I don't even think about her. I refuse to give her any credit or love. And today, I was overcome with pride and sadness for her. She's the Kristy that persisted. She is the warrior. She the driving force that has brought me to this very moment and I haven't celebrated her, I haven't been proud of her, I haven't thanked her and I haven't loved her. And she's incredible. She has seen hell, and walked right through it and came out hopeful and it made her stronger but softer and with more compassion. She carried her siblings with her. She had hoped to bring her mother through it too. And she beats herself up daily about how she couldn't save her too. She has regrets. She wonders very often if there was anything else she could of done. Called the police, ran away, she even wonders if she should have done less. She would have done anything to save her mother, to save her siblings, to save herself. Her family was everything to her. She feels like a failure. She lost her mom forever. She wishes her family didn't also carry the same fears and burden as her. I am here giving her a voice, she deserves to be heard, she deserves to have someone else carry that burden, someone else to reassure her that she is a survivor, a warrior, the very definition of a badass. It's my job to tell her. She looked at everything that could hurt her and did everything she could to fight for her life, her Mothers life, her siblings life. She would call her grandparents when her dad was over and they were fighting so that her dad would be removed from home and no longer hurt anyone. She would secretly call her family to bring groceries when her mother was blacked out from drugs and alcohol because she didn't have anything to eat or feed her siblings. She let men touch her body and didn't make a big deal about it cause she didn't want to get hurt even more. She woke up every single morning and persisted despite having almost everything taken from her.  And she continued to grow. She has never let any of that stop her fight, her will to live and to be happy. She showed an immeasurable amount of love in the most hateful and horrible time of her life. She deserves a break and I am here, I am finally here to tell her she can. I am here to tell her that I am doing my very best to let her play. To let her know that I am here to keep her safe, I am here to love her. To give her love that she wants and needs. And that her break is coming soon. I see her and I love her and I am grateful for everything she sacrificed and everything she endured to bring me here. And that I will continue to be the warm arms wrapping her with all my love.

"The warrior woman is fully awakened and is taking a stand, taking the problems by the horns with her own hands and will conquer all that is there and all who comes as they dare."  unknown

Alzheimer's and Abandonment

Here it is, Mother's day, and I thought my mothers death anniversary was going to be difficult.  Today, I realize that every day is littered with my trauma.

Today,  it's loud and clear.  I am a Mother celebrating her own motherhood. A day that I feel so lucky to celebrate. My children are the greatest thing I have ever done and I will continue to celebrate that.

Today is a reminder of many things that are painful. It's a reminder of the woman that raised me after my mom abandoned me. My grandmother, Margee has Alzheimer's. She has lost her memories. She remembers me, she remembers us, those who love her, those who she loves. But she has lost the ability to know us, to share her memories with us. And on days like today, she doesn't know shes a mother.  And I desperately want to talk to her about my mother, about parts of my life I was too young to remember. Like how old I was when I walked, or my first words, or my favorite foods, etc. I miss her so very much. She is still here on love alone, the love of her children and grandchildren. That is one thing Alzheimer's has not ripped from her. Her ability to love us and for her to feel our love.  

And my mom, my mom that I love and I hate. She was this amazing woman. She was smart and creative. She threw the best parties and always knew how to have a good time. This amazing woman was always chasing love. And it’s  something I can relate to. I am always looking for love to be loved. See, the people that are supposed to love me, unconditionally, they hurt me, they left me. And it's really hard for me to know what love looks like, what it feels like and how to accept it. And I don't think my mom knew that the love that she was searching for was first, within herself and second right in front of her. The love of her children, all 7 of us, the love of her own mother and father and the love of her siblings. She had them all too, they all adored her. And truth, I have them too. It's not always fair that I feel like they love me because they have to. But I suppose if they loved her with her flaws, I can say they love me the same way. I have felt like a burden for most of my life. Actually for as long as I can remember, I have felt unwanted. So, maybe I understand my mom a little more than I thought. And that never feels any better. That just makes me sadder for her. 

Today is always conflicting for me. I love being a mother, it’s best thing I've ever done.

I love that I had the best mothers in my family, that a girl whose mom left her could everhave.

And I love my mom, I am everything good thing she ever was.

But it is also a reminder of how quickly someone can fade.

It's a reminder of all that I hate about my mom.

"What the heart has once known, it shall never forget." - unknown

Learning to love yourself.

My favorite song since the first time I heard it is The Greatest Love Of All by Whitney Houston. And it's been a long time since I have last listened to it. Two days ago I heard it and I took me right back to when I first felt it. And I cried so hard. I remember what it meant to me, I remember how it empowered me. I remember how it made me feel. And it made me so proud of little 9 year old Kristy. And everything she knew about life up until that point. Life was raw, it was painful, it was never being in the same place for too long. Life was being unsure of who was in her home or going to touch her body. Life was seeing her mom passed out cold drunk or angry hungover, tired and being beaten and used.  Life was knowing and trying to advocate for her Dad's wellness, looking for stashed drugs. Her life was looking for food to feed herself and her siblings. Her life was making sure her siblings survived too. Her life was itchy from bug bites and lice. Her life was trying to figure out who were her advocates and who were her enemies. But 9 year old Kristy knew something I have forgotten. She knew she matter. She fought every day of her 9 years for her life, and for the life around. Her life was a daily battle ground but she knew it was a fight worth fighting. I don't thank her enough for making it here, tomtoday. I really don't. I suppose that's mostly what my therapy is all about. Thanking and loving my little Kristy's and learning how to be present. I have spent a lot of time being upset at them for the way they control the way I see things now. I push them down and try to bury them. But after listening to that song, I get it. They are the reason I am here. They were hell bent to live and love. And I owe them all the love and compassion. They're badasses, probably some of the strongest people I'll ever know. And I am going to try my hardest to give them my love and compassion so they can go play, like they should have been able to do. Instead of looking over me. I have to show them I can handle this. That they're free.

I will stop here and post the lyrics to The Greatest Love Of All, my anthem, my tribute to them. And you can see how a 9 year old really absorbed this meaning of this song and made herself her own hero. And she did that at 9 years old. I will learn from her and love myself better.

The Greatest Love Of All

Whitney Houston                                                                                                                    Songwriters: Linda Creed / Michael Masser

I believe the children are our are future
Teach them well and let them lead the way
Show them all the beauty they possess inside
Give them a sense of pride to make it easier
Let the children's laughter remind us how we used to be
Everybody searching for a hero
People need someone to look up to
I never found anyone who fulfill my needs
A lonely place to be
And so I learned to depend on me

I decided long ago
Never to walk in anyone's shadows
If I fail, if I succeed
At least I'll live as I believe
No matter what they take from me
They can't take away my dignity

Because the greatest
Love of all is happening to me
I found the greatest
Love of all inside of me
The greatest love of all
Is easy to achieve
Learning to love yourself
It is the greatest love of all

I believe the children are our future
Teach them well and let them lead the way
Show them all the beauty they possess inside
Give them a sense of pride to make it easier
Let the children's laughter remind us how we used to be

I decided long ago
Never to walk in anyone's shadows
If I fail, if I succeed
At least I'll live as I believe
No matter what they take from me
They can't take away my dignity

Because the greatest
Love of all is happening to me
I found the greatest
Love of all inside of me
The greatest love of all
Is easy to achieve
Learning to love yourself
It is the greatest love of all

And if, by chance, that special place
That you've been dreaming of
Leads you to a lonely place
Find your strength in love

Anxiety and OCD are besties and they like to gang up on me.

Last night I had a panic attack. Today, I feel exhausted and sad. I don't know how to describe the day after a panic attack but it’s like being hungover. Your head feels heavy, you are tired, your eyes hurt and you spend time trying to piece together the night before. You have some amnesia. You remember how you felt, you remember the obsessive thoughts, but you don't quite remember the things that surrounded it. You also look back and feel silly. Because with the new day, you are fresh with the tools to understand your anxiety. When I am in a panic attack, I do know I am being irrational. That my brain is lying to me. But at the same time I feel that the anxiety I am feeling is making me safe. My anxiety lies to me. It makes me fear losing it. I want to clutch to it like a security blanket. My anxiety and OCD are my security blankets and without them I feel unsafe. I feel out of control of the things around me.  When anxiety and OCD team up on me, they convince me that I need them. The anxiety tells me I need OCD to feel prepared and the OCD tells me this is how to make the anxiety go away. Except they never go away. I have tools that I am supposed to use to help me when I am in a panic attack. I am supposed to move around. I am supposed to look around me and touch something, smell something, hear something, taste something, and see something and continually repeat that until I am able to be calm. But anxiety is relentless, it convinces you that those things are just things to distract you from being vigilant, from solving the problems at that moment. I feel cut in half, one side completely understanding that this is a panic attack, that I have to use my tools and I will calm and rest. The other side that feels like a rational thought to an irrational need. 

Yesterday, I woke up, had a wonderful day, rested most of the day, then went to a diner in the city with a friend in the afternoon. I was feeling great. Wonderful, actually. I entered the city and immediately start to feel dread, a sense of dispair washed over me. Then I saw the projects and the feeling just dug deeper. My heart was burning for the people who lost their lives, the lives that have been forever changed. I arrived at the diner and tried by very best to focus on the decor, conversations and delicious food. I tried to ignore it in hopes of it passing without incident. I finished my meal, drove home. Got home, and cozy and put on a show. And everything continued to pile up. I watched Lemony Snicket’s and a scene with anesethia made me sick to my stomach and the the next episode was about freaks at a carnival and then I felt so shamed. And before I knew it my heart was racing and I was having difficulty cathching my breath. I was frustrated because at this point it was bedtime but my brain was alive and was causing my body to burn. My brain reminded me that sometimes people don't get to live their best life before dying. And when I was able to dimiss that thought, my brain reminded that life is unpredictable and people die in car crashes and accidents and then I’ll I was able to dismiss that. Then my brain said try and dimiss this, at any moment a bomb could go off in the middle of the night and you could die in your sleep. My brain then reminded me that the world can hostile and I have absolutley no control over it but that I must figure out a way to control it. There must be a safe place. And my anxiety tells my OCD to keep repeating these horrors until I do soemthing about it. Until I figure out how to keep me and my family safe.  I can't figure it out and I know that this isn't real, that I am not in any immediate danger and that my brain is playing tricks on me.  And I just have to get to sleep and wake up the next day and all will be well again. But before I had to courage to walk to bed and force myself to sleep. I paced and cried in my kitchen. I even tried eating some carvel ice cream cake. Trying so hard relieve this pain. This burden. I went to bed and watched a comedy show which finally put me to sleep.  I didn't sleep well, I had bizarre dreams. I tossed and turned. And then I woke with a panic attack hangover.  I spent my day trying to figure out why I was set off and how I could be better in the future. The next day is never easy, I feel confused. I feel sad and exhausted and I feel even closer than the day before to another panic attack. And I realize that I wasn't happy I fell asleep, just happy I woke up.  

“OCD is like having a bully stuck inside your head and nobody else can see it.”  - Krissy McDermott

.“Imagine all your worst thoughts as a soundtrack running through your mind 24/7, day after day.” -Adam Walker Cleveland

 “For me, it’s an ever-present nagging feeling that something is just ‘not right.’ I can never really, truly ‘make it right.’ I have to learn to live with the all-consuming feeling of mental discomfort.”     - Laura McCarthy

“It’s like you have two brains — a rational brain and an irrational brain. And they’re constantly fighting.” -Emile Ford

Epic love lost.

Here's the thing, I don't know what I don't know. Makes total sense right? I've been struggling with this feeling that anyone that helps me deserves something in return from me. My heart has to be full of grattitude and I have to show it to the person. I can't just accept help and say thanks and move on. That love that is given to me is conditional or that the love given to me will run out. There is a part of me that isn't sure that someone will love me forever. Love me on my worst days, love me when I am being an ugly human. Some that know me might say, " I've seen you be an ugly human and I still love you,"  and that is probaly true. But at the time that I was this ugly human, I probably was still trying to be perfect. I put a ton of effort into appearing perfect. It's not that I am not who I am, it's just I try hard to please everyone. It's because I am afraid that people will leave me, if they don't like something about me. I have felt that people are in my life out of condition or feeling bad for me. I don't have a Mom and Dad that will love me no matter. I don't have a Mom or Dad that think me and my siblings are important. I challenge these thoughts all the time. I challenge that people do decide they like me and want to be in my life. And somehow that feels like a lie when I tell myself that.  I have this voice that says, you can't be that special, any accomplioshment is met with that. It’s almost like I have a little Kristy inside me gaslighting me constantly. Telling me what I see isn't real, telling me how I feel isn't right, belittling me whenever it wants, like anything I do well is a fluke.

I often wonder if this lack of confidence is from not having parents. Not having a Mom, or from having a Mom that left me. I could never leave my kids. I would just get better so I could be with my kids. That's it. I just couldn't imagine a world without my kids. Just typing that makes my heart burn: They are my favorite people, ever. I guess that's what it is. I know all the love I have for them. All the love I could have had from my Mom. I guess that’s what it is, what makes all this hard for me. Maybe there is very hurt little Kristy, who knows the love of her Mom, and she is completely heartbroken that she will never have it again. That her Mom, took it, ran away, promised to come back with it and never did. Her Mom, I mean My Mom, died with the love she was supposed to give me. She died without telling me she loved me one more time, she died without telling me how important or proud I was to her. I guess I haven't connected fully with that little Kristy because I don't feel I was important, and I still don't feel important to anyone. I suppose that little Kristy is still so wounded by it. I feel like there is a part of her that says these things to me because she doesn't want to get hurt again. She doesn’t want to experience that epic loss of love. Maybe little Kristy is trying to protect me from more heartache. My guess is that I knew the love of my Mom and it was just for a short while and I was always waiting for it comeback. Or maybe she's just incredibly hurt and heartbroken that she'll never know if it was real or not. Maybe it’s all of that.

"Parents are the ultimate role models for children. Every word, movement and action has an effect. No other person or outside force has a greater influence on a child than the parent." Bob Keeshan