Thank you

Thank you to the men along the way that have helped me feel safe and secure. To the ones who never wavered, tested their boundaries and have held space for me to be myself and grow.

After loosing my dad this year and re-connecting with family (my half sisters and brother); I’ve come to realize I am not alone in my own fucked up-ness because of him. More recently, I’ve been more present for what I’ve missed out on. I’ve been watching this TV show with my roommate about a family that lost their dad in high-school, just before graduation. It is called “This is Us”— All the feels. Anyway, the dad in that show comes across as amazing. Needless to say, I cried a lot watching it and was pretty shocked by my own loss and what I never had.

I had been writing this post in a Starbucks on paper, while writing I observed a man and a younger gal talking to each other for a bit. After she had left, he had explained that she was like his daughter to him. He talked about his own daughter and had said how he bragged about her. It sunk in that my own dad would have never bragged about me. I let him know in the moment that “She was very lucky to have him brag about her”.

After having this conversation with him, it brought up all of the men in my life who were actually positive role models for me growing up. At the time because of my own PTSD with older men, I was terrified of them. Now I look back in admiration, appreciation and gratefulness. Slow and steady, I’ve been able to overcome my PTSD through multiple years in therapy.

The men I’m thinking about are my grandpa, Mike, John, and more recently Scott.

I have pictures of myself when I was much younger, like 3 years old, laying on my grandpas chest. He was the only man in my life at the time that never wavered, and he loved me unconditionally. I never doubted him. He was consistent and kind.

John and Mike were church leaders. They were kind, compassionate and amazing men. They listened with open hearts, they were consistent, and strong. They sat through all of my growth, my struggles and grief. They had amazing boundaries and I felt as safe as any other teenage girl would have felt with PTSD in the moment. As I look back on that time, I recognize their support and the impact they had on me when I was younger. It was impressionable and important in my personal growth and journey.

I am not going to write about Scott, but I did tell him to his face my gratefulness for his presence in my life.

I do raise my glass to these men, and many more who have impacted my life in positive ways. Ones who have allowed me to feel safe, who have not wavered outside of their boundaries and who have been instrumental to my growth in my self and overcoming my PTSD with men. You are truly amazing humans on this planet.

I cannot thank you enough.

My power candle.

I don’t even know where I got this idea, but it’s super cheesy so bear with me. I have a power candle for when I work out. I was at Michaels spending money like a good consumer, well for my wedding. I was buying craft supplies. Anyway I came across this candle and I bought it. I also found this notebook that tracked work outs. Both were on sale, and the moment I got home I put on my work out clothes and decided to light this candle and let it be my power candle. I imagined only positive things coming out of it, and turned all of my negative self talking into positive thoughts. I kept repeating over and over.. I’ve got this, keep going, only one more time, I’ve got this. And I felt amazing.

I also made a new painting that said “I’ve got this”. And I can’t help but smile when I look at it. I’ve worked out a few times last week, like 2-3 times, and so far twice this week. It’s not a lot, but it’s a hell of a lot more thanI had been doing before!

Overcoming the Bully

Okay, first of all.. this is not something that has been happening over night. It’s years and years of therapy and changing the way I think about things.

Easier said than done and I’m not 100% healed, but I’m so much better than I was 3 years ago, even months ago, or moments ago.

Remember those I AM paintings I did? Well they started to work.

Side bar: In graduate school I took a tutor class which helped me with my papers and also gave me credit at the same time. But I learned something there that has stuck with me through out the years and has changed my thinking patterns in a way I could never have expected. You wouldn’t know this about me but I’m afraid of writing. I’m laughing as I say that because I have this blog with over 60 posts. But writing at the time was one of the most vulnerable places for me to be, and I was terrified of posting my papers etc. Anyway this writing tutor taught some psychology with her class and she taught about neuro transmitters and pathways. If we live one way, it’s hard for our minds to do something new unless we practice something new consistently. As we move forward in that practice, it creates new neuro pathways and those new ways of doing or thinking becomes easier.

Those paintings I started painting, have been really powerful and pivotal in this mind changing game. When I repeat I am enough, enough times… I’ve started to believe it. I even wrote it on a sticky note at my desk.

My next post will be about my most recent achievement with this and how I’ve been able to overcome the bully as I’ve been consistently working out!

After all this time.

I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.

I’ve talked about these voices (I mean self critic, I’m not hearing voices). Let’s just be clear, it’s my inner voice that I’m talking about. But this self critic who has been holding me back, the one I’ve deemed my dad’s voice, is really myself. And I know that, but I’ve trained myself into being the biggest and worst bully of them all. All of those people who harassed me and made me believe I wasn’t good enough, has really trained me to be my biggest bully. I am my biggest bully. WTF.

More progress:

I’ve written a lot today and I just wanted to end with some additional thoughts and progress. Despite everything that has gone on in the last year… this last fall, I started to feel more free. With my job being the most consistent it’s ever been, and my living situation being concrete, I am the most consistent I’ve ever been.

These concrete things has alleviated so much anxiety from my life. Having these things be consistent, has allowed more space for more positive things in my life. It has allowed me to be myself more than ever, and safely. In a safe judgmental free environment.

When Jacob and I were separated, I was struggling with a lot. I think I mentioned the fleas, but my new home was infested. I was so overwhelmed with trying to heal and kill fleas at the same time. I couldn’t really take care of myself. One night I was so upset and was on the verge of a panic attack. My environment had changed so much. I was laying on my bed, and in the midst of all of the tears I was looking at my laundry basket at the end of my bed (with all of the flea shit, I had been doing a lot of laundry trying to kill them). I suddenly realized how long I have had that laundry basket. It has the word Sweetheart on it, which was my camp name from when I worked at summer camp during the summers of like 2004-2006… I’ve had it for a long time.

All though this was one weird realization, it inspired me to list other consistences I have in my life. It helped calmed me down and realized that I had more consistency than I thought I had. It helped normalize my grief.

Consistency is important, and hard to identify when we are are amongst the chaos of our brains. When we feel like our world is falling apart and we feel abandoned by life around us, identifying the consistent (positive, and random normal) things helps regulate us back to reality. It helped me disconnect from the mess that I was creating, to get to something real, which helped me seek out the consistent positives that were going on.

—I’m not sure if any of this makes sense? Maybe you can fill in some gaps if you agree?

Timeline:

I know I have dumped a lot today.

I just wanted to give a time line of the last year and a half or so, just so you can see what’s been going on.

A year ago… in September of 2016 I made the decision to move out of the house I was living in with Jacob and move on from that relationship. A friend also passed away at this time.I thought I was going to live by myself and to do that I needed to make more money, so I applied for new jobs and went to several interviews over the next year.

In the Spring time of 2017 I found out that my dad had gone into a home. I was told by one of my sisters, and at the time I didn’t know what to do.

At the time with the breaking up with Jacob (took me almost a year to leave), I decided to do nothing about my dad.

I started looking for a place in June to move in with roommates. I found a place and moved out in August.

In October I moved back into Jacob’s house and we were engaged and started planning a wedding.

In late December of 2017 I received a call from my brother stating dad was in the hospital. I visited him in January of 2018, the day after he got out of the hospital…. And he passed early March 7th.

—All of these things were hard, and I made it through at my own pace.

Recent Lessons

In my last post I talked about the voices in my brain about self worth being the voice of my father. Thinking about it in that perspective has been a game changer.

My partner and I were arguing about something and I was able to talk myself out of self talk from this new perspective. I was brushing my teeth, walked away and was spiraling fast into some negative talk that was bad. —I don’t even remember what I had said to myself, it really doesn’t matter. Mid brushing, I stopped and said Whhhattt. Like what just happened there, and realized that it was my dad’s voice that was plaguing me. It wasn’t me, it wasn’t my voice. It was his. Okay, not his directly, but it became clear that it was another entity other than myself. —Mind you I thought about this the day before I found out he was back in the hospital.

————-As a disclaimer, I have felt this a lot in the past. I have felt that this other piece of me was a different person. Now that I’ve identified that it was “his voice” and not mine, it seems more clear than ever. It was easy to change the perspective of it not really being me.————-

Sunday my partner and I were digging out our fire-pit. We were trying to decide on how we would do something, and we both had ideas about how to do it. In the process I also was unable to help in the way that I wanted to. I got really mad and snotty with him and then just ended up keeping my mouth shut. Suddenly I got really tense and mad about the situation. I started spiraling in my brain… and what I started to do was separate myself from those thoughts and feelings to why I felt them. I realized that I felt those things because I felt criticized and un-empowered to help. With criticism, comes the self doubt of I’m not doing a good enough job.

Separating my thoughts from his thoughts and words… really this other being that I’ve been fighting for so long has helped me move forward from a lot of bullshit. I’m looking forward to growing  more from this new perspective and seeing what happens.

It’s suddenly spring again.

Grief hit me yesterday as I was driving home from some shopping. It was a beautiful day and as I was driving I noticed the cherry blossoms had started to bloom. It hit me like a ton of bricks, Dad would never see spring again and I nearly had to pull over because of the tears.

The more that I’ve been thinking about it, the more I realize that he stopped seeing spring a few years ago. As he aged he developed Alzheimers, and lost all control of his mind. It’s kind of ironic, because he spent most of his life fighting to gain control over situations and people. —At least that was my perception.

I found out last Monday that he was back in the hospital and it would be a few days before he passed as they were not treating him. I found out while at work, and was in shock. I went home and I yelled. I was so mad at him. I was mad because of his claws that he’s had in me since I was a child. It’s the voices of “You are not good enough” “your voice doesn’t matter’— From my bed, under the sheets, I sat up crying and yelled “You’ve stripped me of my self worth” Because he did. Those voices in my head, the ones that have haunted me for so long were his voices.

Grief is such a weird thing. It comes when it wants and leaves as if nothing every happened. I haven’t told many people, other than those at work and a few close friends. It’s a really hard thing to say out loud. Most of the time I’m okay, and then out of the blue I get whiff of sadness and I don’t even know what triggered it or what to do. I do know that I’m going to be okay. –I’ve learned some things, which I will write in another post.

 

 

 

Last week:

I’ve been on the verge of a binge.

I have felt it coming on for a few days now.

I have a lot going on in my personal life and some second hand trauma from work that is really weighing me down. I wasn’t sure who to reach out to, to prevent myself from actually binging.

This was me last week.

I was alone in the office when I wrote it. A lot was building up, and at the time my coworker walked by and luckily we have a relationship where he let me vent.

I hadn’t slept well, and I was really just on the verge of loosing it.

I did not go into a full on binge. I did drink, but not too much.

I feel okay… I feel okay right now.

I FORGOT ABOUT FOOD

I forgot there was a bag of chips in the cupboard.

As someone who has been so obsessed in the past, and would know everything that was in the cupboard at all times. —I can’t believe how much I’ve recovered and how much I’ve changed.

I remember living with my friend who had food in her house, so much so it was overwhelming. She would forget what she had and would buy more. So much so that she would have several unopened and opened bags of chocolate chips in her cupboard. But I knew, I was obsessed with food. Always thinking about it, always knowing, always always always.

A few weeks ago, I opened the cupboard, and saw a bag of chips in there. I had forgotten I had them. It was a pivotal moment in my life. It was suddenly as if the gates opened and the light shined through. It was a moment to celebrate!