Part Two: Little Grief Kristy is here.

Time is a funny thing, one minute can drag on for what feels like years, and years can pass, in what feels like a minute. It's been a month since I've written, it's been a combination of busy, my therapist was on vacation, and being low on energy and time. She's back now, boy I missed her. And I realized that my year-versaey with her has come and gone and if I think back to that Kristy that walked into her office on that first day, a year feels so quick. But when I think about the days and the hours and all the hard work I did, it's a lot, there's a lot of change that has happened. I've come a long way in a year and I know I've still got more time to go. Sometimes it is a motivator and sometimes it is frustrating. Today. I'm both, because I'm quickly reminded of my worth and strength and truth. But frustrated because Little Grief Kristy and Little Guilt Kristy are triggered pretty frequently and I am still working on how to show them compassion, being present and loving myself instead of beating myself up.

If you have read any of my other posts than you know that I have been working on Little Grief Kristy. I have been wanting to write about a change that happened to me recently. A little background first, I can remember as early as 6 or 7 years old being scared I was going to die in my sleep and basically praying that I wouldn't be taken before I was ready, over and over until I was finally tuckered out and fell asleep. That fear grew and grew and peaked a few years ago when I spent many nights researching till 4 and 5 in the morning about different religions and atheism, so that maybe I could have the comfort that they have in death, and then maybe I could sleep again, That rabbit hole went deeper and deeper and deeper and then I finally sought out help. Which is how I got to Meredith and now brings me to this change that recently, happened, I walked into a funeral home, saw the recently departed and saw the brightest light beam from her. I saw her life. I didn't know her as well as her family did, but I saw her life. In that funeral home, I saw all the love that she had given and experienced, I saw her light, and since I didn't know her all that well, I can't say this to be her truth, but it sure seemed that her light was finally free, to be seen, to be shared and in her death she was her happiest, she was free to shine that light for all to see without pain, and it was there for all of us to share, for eternity. And that was a first to me, I had never seen death that way, I had never seen how someone lives on after they depart this Earth. She lives on inside every single person that she touched, because her light and love were so strong, she influenced people to love and be kind and they were carrying out those acts in name of her. She was still here, still giving love and kindness. And even though her physical body is no longer here, she is actually still here, her ripple is still very much alive. When I went home that evening and thought about what I just felt and tried to absorb it. I thought about my mom and my grief. I thought about how she lives on inside of me, and everyone she touched. And how, I know my Mother, is still rippling out, even though her physical body is no longer here.  It's the hugs and kisses and the physical embrace that I have to grieve. And that part, I am still figuring out, so far, it is with tons and tons of tears. I don't know where this will take me, I don't know if I will ever really be okay without another hug or conversation with her. But I do know that she is here.   

"To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die." -Thomas Campbell 

Part One: Feeling uncomfortable isn't a bad thing, just different and is necessary for progress and healing.

My week off therapy threw me some challenges and without my therapy visit, I was nervous if I would be able to handle them. I swear, the one day I was going to lose it. And I tried so hard to sit with it and find out what little Kristy was coping and show her love, which made me frustrated because she wouldn't show herself, I couldn't become present to meet her. It was finally bedtime and I was hoping the next day would bring me some relief. And, in some ways it did. I sat with a friend and talked about the day before experience and how frustrating it is to want to do the work and just have an inability to reach it.  And how I feel abandonment is apart of everything in my head, and I wonder if it's ever going to go away. And as I was talking, I had a flash back. I was in an empty room without any furniture, white sheer curtains, wood floor, it appeared to be a family room, with the dining room in the next room, the front door on the other side of the living room and steps leading upstairs. I was alone, with a few toys. All alone. I didn't feel scared, I felt normal sitting in that room and playing. And I wondered if I finally connected with the little Kristy that was emotionally responsible for the day before's coping.  So, in therapy we discussed this briefly and since it was two week sessions in one, we couldn't fully cover all the things. But, she asked me to visit with little Kristy and what did she feel like, what did that feel like to me, as an adult, I felt sad for her, she felt being alone felt normal. She asked how old I was in the flash back, I was about 5-6, I would say. Alone felt normal and okay. Those words don't really describe the weight that I feel with them. Because alone feels very scary for me, now. I also feel very uneasy about a flash back, I had to ask my therapist about  what that means. Apparently it's very normal to have flash backs and be flooded with them, it's associated with trauma. But I think the reason why it bothers me is because its happening to me, and I don't feel like it's yet apart of me. And then I think about that and I realize that it's all happened to me. And it's really hard to swallow. People hurt me, adults didn't keep me safe, and that thought, burns, from the inside out, like a brush fire. And I don't know if I want to feel that pain again. But little Kristy didn't do anything to deserve that treatment, and she does deserve my love, and to be loved. I must do that work for her, I must love her, because who else will? And my love is the greatest love for her. I also had to draw my flashback, in hopes of connecting more with this little Kristy, it is the worst drawing I've done thus far and I've looked at it several times over the past 2 days and its depth has changed,  making me very uncomfortable. Which I suppose is a good thing, I suppose it means progress. 

"The one you are looking for is you." - Osho

The hardest goodbye.

This one, is gonna be a hard one, and especially this week. My mother died May 5, 2008. I found out about her death August 2009. My daughter was 8 months old. I came home one day from work and my aunt was there, with the death certificate, it listed her date of death, a name that we didn't know her by, who was there with her when she died and causes of death, cancer and emphysema. I believe I was 8 or 9 years old when she left (the time line is a little foggy but I don't really think those details are too relevant).  I remember she left in a limo. I remember a phone call about a month later where she told me she'd be back at the next holiday, which would have been my birthday. She never came back. She never called. She just disappeared. And that day in August, I learned I'd never see her again. She was gone, my questions would go unanswered, my wish for a hug, a smile, a conversation, to hear her voice, all gone. Because she was, gone. She left me hopeful for 20 years that I would see her again. I was hopeful I would find her or she would find me. I never thought that day when I was a child would be my last day. After learning the news, my family had a get together/memorial for her about a month later and then I guess I was supposed to let her go. But how, how was I supposed to let her go? I held onto hope for so long, I got used to that feeling. How do you say good bye to someone who has been gone for almost 3 times your life with them, but is actually gone now?

I walked into my therapists office a few days ago feeling like I wasn't sure what I would talk about, I had been having some confidence issues, having feelings about being proud of myself for no longer being triggered by something that was constantly making my heart race and my brain spin and my sleep sparse and then too much. And we talked about how I have this vision of my house (I have had this since the beginning, it was once a dark room where I was scared to come out from under a bed) is now almost 3/4 organized and full of light. That a little pigtailed Kristy was there, the Kristy that lived in Boston was there and present day Kristy was there. This is the first time there were more than one age of Kristy and present day Kristy. I felt like I had actually worked through some trauma and reorganized it and put it in a safe space, I can see, and I can safely feel them now. But there was still a room, a very dark room, without any windows or doors. I am very scared of it. So my therapist asked me to tell her what I thought that room held, and the first thing that came to mind was my mom. My mom was in that room. She asked me if there was another way to get in, I couldn't find one. And of course I couldn't, my mother is dead. There is no fixing that. There is no bringing her back and having a conversation. There's no one last good bye, no more hugs, no more laughing, that my memories of her when I was a child was all I have of her, my hope was gone, when she died. She knew she had cancer, she knew she was gonna die and she still chose to not contact us. That one hurts really deep. My therapist asked me if it would have even mattered what she would have said. No, it wouldn't. It would all be bullshit. I'm just sad and mad that I didn't get one last hug, smile, one last good bye. And my therapist told me that, that room represents grief. That I need to grieve her. How the fuck do I grieve her? I have known her gone far longer than anything, how do I move on from that? And if I grieve her, that means she is really gone. And I am very scared of walking into that room and getting trapped in that. I am scared that even though she has been gone for so long that she will really be gone.

My work now is to see all the Kristy's and let them have their sad/mad grief temper tantrum and hug them and love them. My rational brain knows that by doing this, the light will come into that room. And I will do it, but I am super resistant to it. And I am very scared. But like I said, I will do it. 

 "No one ever told me that grief felt like fear."  - C.S. Lewis

The Greatest Love Of All

The self love I am learning through therapy feels HUGE to me, most days. And other days I feel I am learning things that everyone already knows. It is a very bizarre feeling, to conquer something huge in therapy, and then realize, most of the world has been living like that, knowing that feeling. I say bizarre, but it also makes me feel sad and childish. And then I remember, there are people out there, learning how to keep people at an emotional safe distance, fighting for their self worth, and learning to love themselves. That I am not alone. I am not the only person on the planet that didn't learn these basic self love skills, I am not the only one who grew up with trauma. And knowing that, is bittersweet. Because this is a struggle, it's an every day mindfuck that I wouldn't wish on anyone. But, knowing that there is one (and there are more than one, I know) person out there makes me feel less alone and I am thankful that I am not alone. Because the mountains I have to climb, appear smaller and less rocky. I am not the first to climb them, nor will I be the last. This blog is for me, but it's also for you, yes you, the one out there struggling. You are not alone. I am here too.

I recently realized that this blog is a brain dump for me,  I walked into therapy last year, hoping to find my love for myself. Trusting my therapist when she told me it was time to take the book of my childhood off the high shelf I put it on (where it was barely reachable) and reshelf it within me, in the right compartments. And I know that we aren't through the book, and things haven't been put away properly, but I know that the book is apart of me now. And I can feel it, process it, learn from it, write here and let it go.

In therapy, and in life, you may hear me say, I know but I don't feel it. I know that I am loved, but I don't feel it. For some time, I thought I was broken. I felt I had to stand on my own two feet and never fall because I couldn't be loved if I was less than perfect. And WHOA, that was a particularly hard sentence to write.  Because it hurts to write that truth out. I know some family and friends will think I haven't heard them or seen their love, I do, I have. Like I said, I know they love me, I don't feel it. And it's not their fault, and for a very a long time, I thought it was my fault. My fault that I wasn't lovable unless perfect. That they saw every misstep, every mistake, every imperfection over the good things I possess. And I'd be lying if I said that I didn't still believe that. But, todays win comes in knowing that it's not my fault. And recognizing it. I have my children to thank for that. Because since the day my daughter was born, something inside me changed. And until last week I didn't notice, I couldn't recognize it. They love me, unconditionally and I feel it. Their love for me, is what sparked this change, this need to love myself. I know that once I love myself more, that all the people that have been loving me, I will feel it, I just need time to get there. I have all the faith and hope that I will get there. And perhaps, the reason my favorite song as a child was 'The Greatest Love Of All,' by Whitney Houston, is because there is a self love little Kristy in there.

“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.” ― Lao Tzu

She Ebbs and She Flows

Many around me may not realize how low my self esteem can get. They may doubt that I have low lows, because for the most part, I prefer to fight with my smile and love, that's my superpower. For some this blog may be surprising and they may have negative things to say about it.

And I will admit, it took me by surprise that someone would actually think negative things about this process I'm going though. Something I'm beginning to learn, is many reactions have very little to do with me and a lot to do with that person.

It doesn't mean this didn't set me back. Because it did. It sent me to a place I'm used to being. To my old coping habits. Crying, in a dark room with the door shut (in my head -and in real life), feeling helpless. Unable to move or fight back. See, that was my defense as a child, to hide. I couldn't fight back, I was too helpless. Too weak. Too little. Too young. And for some reason when I am attacked (in any form), A little Kristy pops up and says, "in the past, when we weren't safe, we just hide and stay quiet, so come join me there again, I'll keep you safe." She's an automatic voice, one I hear now, but still follow, my therapist says acknowledging the voice, is progress,  but questioning it is the next step. I spiraled for days, about who I was, what my intentions where, and I questioned my worth. I lost my voice and I stopped listening to my gut. That quickly, a negative remark sent me waaaay back. Luckily, I have some awesome family and friends, who quickly reminded me and my little Kristy's of who I am, and why I'm doing this. This is for me to heal. I deserve to tell my story. I want to share to help someone else at the very least feel less alone. This is my journey and I get to chose how I walk it. Just like every other human on this planet.  I can be grateful for the family and friends that have helped me and have been apart of my successes and failures AND I can share my story to heal without that meaning anything less than that. I don't have to spend my life reminding people of that, either. And I don't have to remind myself of that, as well. I know, I am who I am today because of the people around me, but I also know, I'm here because of me too, because I am a strong willed, smart, loving person, and I am a warrior and a survivor. 

I've learned through this, in the past 2 weeks that hope is an action and a feeling. When I'm in my low, I rely on the words between my therapist and I, the work and the idea of a better day, and to be truthful, I don't always believe there will be a better day, but I do the work anyways (the other option didn't get me very far, so work it is). But for anyone who has been down there before, you know this feeling. Where you're in the ocean and your feet are stuck in the sand and your head is just above water and the waves crash over your head putting you under for just a bit before your head just barely pops up for a breath in between. Anyone who can relate to that. That working through that feeling of barely above water, you're actually doing hope.

Hope the feeling, it's what I have now. I'm on the wave, riding it, seeing the coastline knowing my feet will be on the sand, soon enough. Today, I can enjoy the ride because I've done some really hard work lately, and I know I'll get there. And I should be proud.

"Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise." -Victor Hugo

I know happy because I know sad.

Finding time. We have 24 hours everyday. How is it that I can't find the time. A few sessions ago, I walked into therapy and talked about how I just felt sad. I had no idea why. Just sad and I just wanted to stop feeling sad. I want to be happy. I am happy, I wanted happy back. I yelled at sad, I pushed sad down, I said, "sad you have no place here." Little did I know sad needs a place here. Sad needs to hang around. Sad needs to be felt. Sad will not go away until she is heard. I needed to find time for sad. My therapist told me to schedule it. Find a safe place and just cry. So, Tuesday at 10, sad time. To sit here and tell you that I did it, wouldn't be the whole truth. I tried, it was just uncomfortable. I sat there, I told Sad, that she could be here, that I loved her, but that it wasn't pleasant and that if we could make this visit quick that would be just dandy. I should have known that Sad will be around a while. Her visits would be short but frequent until I got used to her, I guess she understood when I told to make it quick, but she had the last laugh, she said, sure, but I'll be back. And usually at the most inconvenient times. At times that I just don't have the energy to be sad, and I guess those are the times I need her most, because I run on autopilot, tending to all the things and not me. I am trying to see her and love her. It's not easy. She's proving to be a difficult hurdle. I know she's worth it. I know she's here for a reason. Perhaps, she's just sad because despite my ability to see the silver lining, everything I went through, is sad. And maybe, I just need to be sad about it without patting myself on my back and being thankful for surviving and smiling. I am scared, scared of the depths of sad. Scared of what I might see again, what I might have to experience all over again. I am scared that I will lose happy. I am scared that without happy, I won't be worthy. Logically I know that I can't feel happy without sad and sad without happy but Happy, may also be Worry.

"Hello Sad, I see you, I love you."

"Hey, Happy, no worries, you're not going anywhere, you've been my rock since day one and you've never moved, and you never will. You have my word."

"Just as a snake sheds its skin, we must shed our past over and over again." -Buddha

In the event of an emergency, put your oxygen mask on first.

Holy crap. I'm overjoyed, overwhelmed, sad and happy all at the same time. I want to thank everyone that took the time to read my blog and send me a message.

Before posting my blog on social media for all to read. I first sent it to my family.  I'm always worried about my actions and how they affect others. Always. It's an adjustment for me to hear all the worries and to play out all those scenarios in my head and then put myself in equation. Realizing that my feelings are important too. And that I need to consider myself in all those scenarios. Which is very hard for me, because I have this fear that suddenly taking care of myself will cause me to become a narcissist or an asshole. My therapist spends a good deal every session reminding me that it's nearly impossible for me to become a narcissist. Yet, I still worry.

I know that you have to your oxygen mask on first before you can help anyone else. But it's..... HARD. It's hard to spend time doing things for yourself when you know you're one of the more fortunate ones and you just want to spend your time helping others because you're able. Posting my blog to social media was a good practice for me to see how well I can put my mask on first. I want to be in a great head space where I can listen without absorbing all of the feelings. Right now, when I hear someone's trauma story, I just want to swoop in save them. I want to heal their pain. And I'm sure part of that, is my subconscious thinking if I can heal someone else, I can heal me, I can save little Kristy. I know, that this blog and helping people, is just a selfish way of healing myself. But, I also know that Kristy, is and always has been a caretaker. Born and raised to care for people. And all Kristy wants is for people to be happy. And Kristy wants to help those who have trouble achieving that. What's different in my life now is that I realize that I can't help people at the cost of me drowning. Moving forward, I am putting on my life jacket and pushing through the hard and doing the work even though it doesn't feel natural and I am going to trust this process.

I just feel so grateful for all the support and love that has been shown to me. To know that I am not alone, is both comforting and sad. I hope my story, being out there, brings comfort to someone and they feel less alone. Knowing I am just an average "Jill" out there working, healing and trying to be the best me I can be and that means so can you.    

"You have permission to rest. You are not responsible for fixing everything that is broken. You do not have to try and make everyone happy. For now, take time for you. It's time to replenish."

- unknown

Somewhere over the rainbow....

Sometimes I walk into my therapists office all confident, thinking, I have this thing handled, what could I possibly have to talk to her about. I even think about canceling appointments, because, what's the point, I'm feeling good. I am doing the work, I'm handling my shit. This was me this past week, except I wasn't that great. The two days prior I was teary eyed, for no reason that I could find. I thought I was overwhelmed with life. Just being a working mom and all. But I walk into therapy and sit down and tell her about the crying. And she asks me what I did. And what I did is what I always do, which is wait until I have time to deal with my crying. It's frustrating to cry and even worse when you haven't a clue why. And I literally have no time to lose my shit. I don't. So, my therapist told me I need to schedule it. Like Tuesday at 10, I go into the bathtub and cry, for as long as I need. This is going to be the worlds hardest task for me. When she told me, I felt an actual pain in my stomach. I am not someone who isn't sad, or refuses to be sad. I will admit anger, is a scary emotion for me but sad, I am cool with sad. Except, I don't have time for it. And who has time for a sad Kristy. Kristy is brave, Kristy is silver lining, Kristy is happy go lucky and that's who everyone has come to love.  It's really hard for me to let people see the sad. Because it's really dark in there. And it's hard for me for more than one reason, one, I am afraid that I won't be loved for all the things that I am, secondly, I am afraid to darken anyone else's life with my darkness. Another level of why I don't want to be sad or angry is I spent my childhood in darkness, I don't want to spend anymore time there. Everything I have been through, everything I have survived, I shouldn't be sad or angry anymore. I deserve the rest of my life to be meadows.

But, I know this isn't how it works. I know that I have to spend time being sad. I know that by denying myself the ability to cry and be sad, that I am shutting little Kristy down. And I know the more I cut her off the louder she gets. I have to constantly be reminded to allow the feelings and emotions when they come. I know that I can't have the light without the dark, the up without the down and the happy without the sad.  And as I write this I still struggle with the looming cry day. A, "I don't want to... you can't make me," feeling. But ultimately I will, because I want to be happy. I want to have peace. Actually, I will have peace. That's what I deserve and I am willing to work for it.

"To enjoy the rainbow, first enjoy the rain."  -Paulo Coelho

Love and hate can exist on the same plane.

A child is born with a biological attachment to her parents. In order to survive, she loves them. She cries because she is hungry and then her parents hear her and feed her. She relies on them for life. But, sometimes you have shit for parents and you cry for food and they ignore you, or yell at you or don't protect you and since you depend on them for survival, you must still love them. But when, that happens the narrative in your head changes to keep you safe. You then blame yourself for your shitty parents. You think, I must be bad and that's why she yelled at me, or hit me or neglected me or allow people to do bad things to me. And then you can still love your parents even though they are shitty. Because you still need to rely on them to survive. And this keeps you safe.

But what happens when you grow up and are safe? You continue to think that every one's emotions and sadness is your fault. Like you have some kind of control over peoples emotions and actions with your own behavior. 

I will tell you what happens. You spend the rest of your life scared to make the wrong decisions, to show anyone your weaknesses, to allow anyone to know your bad days. You spend all your time and energy making other people happy. Because if they're happy, you're not a bad person. This whole time I have been looking for someone to love me, someone to love the little Kristy's, the ones that thought it was their fault. But now, I know, I need to love them. I need to see them, and tell them I love them, I need to show them compassion, remind them how proud of them I am for carrying me this long, getting me here, fighting for survival. I need to remind them they were brave, strong and loving and they are not bad.

Do you know what this means? That I can no longer blame me for why my parents left, why they neglected me, why they abused me. I have to blame them, which is in conflict for my love for them. And for now, just acknowledging that, IS progress, painful and hard, but still progress.

"Nobody knows, Nobody knows but me, That I sometimes cry." -Pink

Finding a way to love myself on the days I hate myself.

Newton's Law of Gravity: What goes up must come down. And right now, I am up. I am feeling great, feeling my worth. It's not the first time in this process since July that I have had an up. And I know what follows, a down, with anger, sadness and doubt. It's like the game, tug of war. I hope that it leads to a plateau, eventually. So, while I am in this good brain space, my homework is to write myself a love letter of sorts. And even in my good brain space, this is going to hard for me.

Kristy,

I see you. You're so courageous and brave. You are a warrior. You will beat this. No one has ever stolen your smile and hope, and no one ever will. The love you emit is as bright as the sun, everyone can see it, no one can burn it out. Your love is never ending. And remember, you deserve to shine for yourself. Turn that bright love inward. You deserve it. You've left us all in the dark for too long now, we want to feel warm, we want to shine bright with you. I promise, you have an army inside you, always ready to fight with you when you need us. But there are no more bad guys, you are safe now. Love us, heal us. WE all deserve it. YOU deserve it. Your superpower is that you turn shit into sunshine. Challenge those thoughts. Kristy, you're free. Be gentle with yourself. You've come a long way, already, it's pretty incredible.

Love you all the time, Kristy

"Because there is a law such as gravity, the universe can and will create itself from nothing." Hawking and Mlodinow

Warrior: a brave or experienced soldier or fighter

This sucks. This whole process sucks. I shouldn't have to do all this work. I shouldn't be this mentally tired. I shouldn't have to be this brave all the time. Someone should have taken care of me. Someone should have kept me safe. It's not fair and I know life isn't fair but for the love of dog, I could have been given a pass somewhere.

This week, I went into therapy with the things that I had processed over the past week, excited to share with her that I learned that I have control over the boundaries in my life. And then she asked me, "Why am I allowed boundaries?" And I know what she wants me to say, "because I am worth it, I have value." And so, I honestly tell her, "I don't know, I know I what I am supposed to say I am worth it, but I don't feel it."  She reminds me that I need to feel it before I can begin to really heal. Honestly, I don't know if I will, I want to. But it also scares me. It does. Deeply. I am scared to find worth in myself. I am scared of what that will look like. Isn't that sad. I am scared of having value. Up until today, my work in therapy has been related to the verbal and sexual abuse of a man that was my Mom's boyfriend, because his voice is the one I hear most often when I am fighting for me. But when I fight through his voice, and do the things for Kristy, I am greeted with the fear of being mean. My fear of being worthy, is that I will be like my Mother. That I will be so self absorbed that I will neglect everyone. And I sat there telling my therapist this, and I was in tears as she reminded me (like she does every visit) that it's impossible for me to ever be that person. Because I am always thinking about how my actions will hurt someone. And I don't believe that yet either, I really broke down at this visit because I am tired, I am breaking through to heal some of the little Kristy's hurt by that man that sexually and verbally abused me, just to be greeted by more demons. The list of demons feel never ending and the pain feels the same. 

But in true warrior fashion, I will continue to fight. Fighting for myself is what I know how to do more than anything else in my life. I will come out on the other side, I promise you, with my smile intact.

"You're only given a little spark of madness. You mustn't lose it." - Robin Williams

"Normal is an illusion. What is normal for the spider is chaos for the fly." - Morticia Addams

Without my anxiety, I feel I will lose control over my life and I will die. My fear, primarily, is someone taking my life from me versus the death itself. Last night I was scared to fall asleep because when I'm sleeping I'm vulnerable and I can't defend myself. I woke this morning in a panic. As I told myself I was safe and I could let go of some control, I heard a voice. A little Kristy say, "if you're not going to be in control and keep us safe, who will?" 

I've been in charge of keeping myself and others safe for as long as I can remember, my earliest memory is 5 when I hid under my bed while my parents violently faught.

This past week in therapy, I described myself, in a body bag, zipped all the way open, with maggots and bugs eating through me, peoples hands digging inside me. 

I feel like everyone has permission to have a piece of me. Except me. I feel I have no say in me. Because this is what I have been shown my whole life. When I was a little girl, I cared for my siblings, cleaning the house, making food, while my mother was blacked out sleeping off her drugs and alcohol. I would keep my mothers secrets, I would stay up calling jails and bail bondsmen with her. I'd comfort her. And later, I was someone she could be angry with, she could blame. And the men in and out of the house must of thought the same. Using my body and then telling me that I was ungrateful for what she provided for me. Ha! Be grateful for a life of neglect and abuse.

This is what 6-8 year old Kristy learned. She learned that she's here to please others, to care for others, to be someone's sounding board. And that she didn't even do that well. But she did learn how to survive.

Here I am 37 years old. Going back to all my little Kristy's and trying to change the messages. I wonder, often if I am being too selfish. I have to tell myself I am worth it. Because I don't believe I am.  I am just starting to see myself as human, I am not sure who I was before. But I was not human.

But, I am human. And I deserve all the grace and love that I give. And one day, it'll feel like normal. Not this constant chatter. And I look forward to a quieter day. 

 "If one stays too long in his shell he'll wind up nuts. And on that same note Sir, Nanu." -Mork

"I just hope that I can make something beautiful grow from every bit of dirt that has been thrown at me." -Savannah Black

At 6 and 7 and 8, I took care of my 2 brothers and twin sisters while my mother laid passed out from a drug and alcohol filled sleep. Blacked out. Unable to be woken. I prepared baby bottles, the kind where you boiled water (on the stove) and placed the glass bottle in the hot pot of water to warm the milk. I changed diapers, I washed dishes (and even knew to dry a cast iron pan on the stove), I fed myself and babies, I bathed and clothed everyone and then I would sneak the phone (yes, this phone was connected to a cord) into another room to call my grandmother to pick me up for school, "but shhhh, don't tell mom, cause she'll be mad I called you."  I was an adult. I was a house manager of sorts. And then I sit and think about my kids, because this is the age I was. And I think how the fuck did I do it. Bad things have happened to me, unthinkable things. But, other worse things could have. I could have been kidnapped, I could have been hit by a car crossing a street, etc. How did I do these things? How did I learn how to do all these things by age 5 or 6. I couldn't imagine how my children (or many children) would fare.

I often say that I am a caretaker by nature and nurture. This is who I am. But I have spent way too much time caring for others and not for myself. And that is what I have to be working on. Me. Loving me, turning my compassion inward. I just don't know how. Not yet. It's not that I don't want to, I just forget. I haven't been doing it long enough to know what it feels like, long enough for it to be a routine, long enough to undo 36 years of putting everyone before me. This is going to take a lot of practice and missteps. But, I have hope, hope that it will become natural to take care of me. To listen to me. I have to.  I have survived everything else and I owe it to little Kristy. She and I, WE deserve it.

Do you know what it's like to be me? Let me let you in for just a moment. I just sat here for an hour, and typed out several different posts, all relevant to this post. They all didn't lead me here, they didn't seem to form real sentences, but this one did, so I went with it. But I still read through it and it's missing something. Something I am not able to get through. And I think this is what I missed,  I don't love me. I don't think I am deserving of love. Of others love, of my own love. Why? Because the people that were supposed to love and keep me safe, didn't, and then they left. My people left me. They allowed people to hurt me, abuse me, use me, and then they left me. I cleaned, I cooked, I bathed, I allowed my body to be used. I gave my little body to everyone, body, heart and soul, to everyone, and it wasn't enough. That was the first message in my life. The second message was that I wasn't grateful enough for that life. The man who told me that, that man, took from me, took more than anyone else ever has. And my mom let him. And I don't know why, but his voice is the one I hear always. It's constantly with me. Everything I do I hear how I am an ungrateful little bitch. An insignificant man, has the loudest voice. A man, who did bad things, a man who I should never allowed a place in my life. He probably doesn't remember me. Not that I want him to, just a point that I shouldn't give him as much space to it as I do, if any at all. I was just a kid, I was just wanting to be loved. And as an adult, that's what I connect with most. It's all I want. Someone, love me. I love you, please just love me. I have been trying to shut this voice up, but it won't go away. According to my therapist, it won't, if I continue to shut it up, it will only get louder. I have to go to the place, and I have to give little Kristy space and love and compassion. Sounds easy? It's not. I have protected that part of me for a very long time. Probably before I met this man. Probably since conception. I've been guilty my whole life. Guilty for existing. I didn't ask for any of this. Guilt, is my comfort. But it isn't serving me anymore and I must learn to correct the message. So here it is.

 Little Kristy, you are a little brave girl, you were just trying to survive and save everyone around you, doing all that you could to make sure everyone was safe, sacrificing all of yourself to do so. You were the bigger adult, you saved yourself and your family that day, all those days. Even the little girl that was with you, you saved her too. You are strong, and brave and loving.  You did nothing wrong. You did everything in your power to do what was right. And you succeeded in surviving, and keeping your family safe. You are a superhero, a warrior, an angel of sorts. I love you, little Kristy, for surviving, for taking care of me. It's okay now, we are safe now. We can grow, we can love and we are loved, and we will be loved. You can come out. It's safe. I got you.   

"If one stays too long in his shell he'll wind up nuts. And on that same note Sir, Nanu." -Mork

Hula Hoop

Today was a therapy day. I have to decided to write just on those days. Last week was a holiday so the session was skipped. I am going to try and not do that again, two weeks is too long. I am learning. I struggle very much with voices inside me that tell me that I am not enough and not deserving of much. That if I haven't done something for you than I don't deserve your love or kindness. I know why this voice is here, I know who it is (it's actually more than one person), and I am trying so very hard to silence it. But it's hard. It hard to even recognize the voice is even there. But I am getting better at recognizing. Now I just have to remember when I am stuck in the moments where I want to do all the things for people, and thinking I have to expend all my energy for love, I have to stop and ask myself, "How does this serve me?" And if it doesn't than I can chose to  walk away from that relationship/friendship. Because I am worth it. Not because of what I have been through, not because I am special, but because I am human. Because everyone deserves it. Which scares me, it scares me to be so self involved, I am scared I am going to lose who I am, lose the very few qualities that I like about myself. My ability to be relatable, my ability to love. My therapist reminds me constantly, that if I could just turn that love inward I will have an even larger capacity to love. And I totally get that, I do, taking care of me, helps me take care of others and the way I am doing it now isn't healthy. And I need to be healthy. The amount of love I give and don't receive back in return isn't sustainable. My life isn't sustainable. If I don't learn to turn the love inward than I will find myself at the bottom of a very black hole. 

It may not read like this is difficult to write or talk about but I sit here, in tears. One because, if this was anyone I loved, I would be heartbroken for them, two because, it feels so wrong to love myself.  Or as my therapist says, it's not wrong, its different. She also told me today that it is "so painful to watch and listen to me not love myself."  She is always trying to reassure me that I won't become a narcissist. That I am so far on the other side of that spectrum that its probably impossible. And that "my soul is too beautiful," to ever let that happen. Man, why does that hurt so bad. Why does it hurt so bad when someone says something nice? I know why, I know exactly why. And I am scared to go to that Little Kristy, I am scared to see her again. I think I am almost ready. Ready to see her and remember what happened. And hopefully help heal her and make her apart of me again and silence one part of that voice.

But now, I will do my best to remember the imaginary hula hoop around me, as my boundaries. What is in the hula hoop is me and I don't have invite anyone in that area doesn't serve me.

Therapy is hard, change is hard. They say taking that first step is the hardest, I don't think it is. It is the middle steps, because there is no looking back when you've started to see the light. Then, you have to do the work, no matter how hard it is. There is no sitting in the same comfortable place if you are hurting there too. At least in this forward direction there is hope.

"It's not what's in front of you that blocks your way, it's what's inside of you that holds you back" -Mork

"In the waves of change, we find our true directions." - unknown

This week has been the first week in months, or maybe even EVER, that I have noticed a change. A shift. Obviously, I go and do the therapy to change, to grow, to better myself and the world around me. I made a promise to myself when I was very young, to never let anyone take my smile away from me. That it is mine and no one but me can control it. I also go and put forth the effort at therapy because I have a chance to right the wrongs, to stop the cycle. To allow love and smiles win. I will win. But, I  often wonder how it is I got here. Why did I survive? How, at such a young age I was able to fight? I believe everyone has the strength I have. Truly. I think anyone could survive what I have, and still smile everyday and be grateful, like me. My therapist and many others say, no. I don't believe them, because what makes me special? I don't know. But if I do have some life skill, I will share it with my kids and anyone else willing to listen. I will not allow the hate from my life, to infiltrate my smiles or my love.

Back to change, I feel it.  I see it. I actually saw a little Kristy, the other day. While I was at the gym, I closed my eyes while on the stationary bike. I saw her, she saw me, she smiled and waved. It wasn't a good bye or even a hello, it was more of a, "I see you."  This change, in this little Kristy, felt good, but still terribly painful. I know these changes I have been making would be hard but would eventually feel good or like a release. And I feel proud and good but I am also very sad. Maybe I am in a mourning process, maybe it just feels uncomfortable. I don't know. I will let you know when I know. 

I know I must make these changes, I must change the way all the little Kristy's see themselves. I know that staying in the same place that I have been is no good for me. I can't help anyone, if I can't help myself. So, I have begun with me. And I have found that my direction has finally changed, it has been turned inward. And by turning my love and compassion inward, I will have more room for what's around me. And if I have all this space now to love others, imagine the space I will have after I have given myself some. For once, I see this. I actually feel how loving me means room for loving others more.

"I learned that I am okay, I am not as bad as I thought I was. Nanu Nanu" -Mork

Where do I start?

Starting.

I walk into therapy and there really isn't a start. I just spew my week. My thoughts, my feelings, what has happened, what has triggered me, what I did to calm myself down.

Maybe that's how I will start, with word vomit. 

Today I want to physically throw up and sing. My words will be in a place, that people can read and judge me and that frankly makes me want to vomit. I also want to sing (you will soon learn this about me, my emotions are typically the extreme opposite sides), and loudly, because I am finally getting back to my words. I am struggling with my words and my thoughts because I struggle with knowing which person is thinking them. This is probably a good time to introduce you to Little Kristy, my therapist says there are many Little Kristy's living inside me, and I need to reach each one and love her and change her message. Little Kristy's age ranges from 5 to 9 years old. I'm in the midst learning who is control of 36 year old Kristy when triggered and trying to see what it or who it looks like. When I am able to recognize which Little Kristy is controlling me, I need to see her and love her and squeeze her and take her negative sign and change it for her. I have what you call dissociative disorder. During my childhood, I experienced many levels of trauma, abuse and neglect and my brain protected me, by dissociating, because if I was actually present for these events (experiences, I don't know what to call them, experiences and events sound like fun) I wouldn't have survived. But, now, later in life, I am still dissociating, and I didn't know it (until now, THANK YOU to my therapist) and all my Little Kristy's have been dealing and reacting for me. Which is why I must start recognizing not only when it's happening but who is reacting. SOUNDS LIKE FUN, right? Welcome to my world of managing myself. Its like a damn circus in my head.  Some times a tornado. Like the one in Wizard Of Oz, and yes the music is playing. You try and think and be confident though all that chaos. Somehow, I have. But I am tired and exhausted and have lost my worth through it all. This is what this journey is about. Finding my self worth, and hoping that one day I can get my life story out and one person can feel less alone, knowing someone like them (me) is out there and I understand. 

I feel the need to end this with some kind of sign off.  I will work on it. How does this sound?

"I learned that I am okay, I am not as bad as I thought I was. Nanu Nanu" -Mork

And so it begins.....

When I was a teenager, I wrote my heart out. I expressed my pain through writing. I didn't care who read it and I didn't care how horribly written it was. Some where along the way, I lost it, I was ashamed because I was terrible at grammar.  And my outlet was gone.  Today, In trauma therapy, I was asked to find it again. So, I am here to tell you about my process in therapy in hopes of expressing my pain and anger and healing myself.  Welcome to my journey.