Eleven Years Later...

There have been so many good posts, sayings, and such floating around in my Facebook newsfeed lately. I'm going to share a few that especially resonated with me:

When I was going through the PFA process and had hoped for my family's support--primarily my dad's support--I was turned away.  I finally told my dad on April 10, 2010 that until he can actually, TRULY, see me, hear me, and know me for who I am, he can't be in my life (*spoiler--getting to know who I am was apparently too much to ask).  That conversation was also before he did and said some very horrible things that ensured he would never be in my life again--tomorrow is the 11 year anniversary of that trauma and leaving my paternal family behind (there is no maternal family--so in truth, I lost all of my family with that event).  My paternal family didn't truly know me in my youth or as a teen--yet I was so often the scapegoat for the entire family (not just my brothers, but my cousins, too) and they STILL, to this day, believe I am the person that they decided I was 30+ years ago.  The wretched thing? I was never that person then, either.  It's seemingly always been what best fits their narrative of who they want me to be and what works to make them look better as people. A couple of examples--when I lived with my father, the middle brother would frequently do things like staying out all night--I would get grounded, not him.  The reason? I was the oldest and set the bad example.  He would stay out all night, no consequences--but I would get grounded for a week because of what he did--not once, not twice--regularly.  In 2001, a family member left her husband for another man.  Somehow the family turned it into me getting her into drugs and that was why she left her husband--not that she and her husband had marital problems--my family managed to even make things like that MY fault. The funny thing? She didn't do drugs then and neither did I, but somehow it was all still my fault.  This has been my reality for 47 years, so obviously--they should all have less issues with me removed, right? At least that seems logical to me... If I am the problem, and I am removed from the equation, they should all have lovely pleasant lives now.  Even though I have removed myself these past eleven years--it still gets back to me the nasty things said and apparently I am still to blame.  Why would anyone want to go back into that type of relationship?

April 22, 2010 was when I discovered that the family's negative perception of me was all much deeper, much worse than I could have ever guessed--honestly, the pain of knowing what they deeply believed about me was all was too much.  Even with 36 years of pain and hurt from them prior to that day--that was the grand finale of what I could handle.  2010 is when it all finally reached a head and I put my foot down and said "no more"--but that's also when my own healing started... Eleven years now, I have been without a "family".  But I am so much better off without the emotional damages keeping them in my life brought.  It's extremely damaging to have a family and parent that make you out to be a villain and the root of all family evils--that has been my role since birth and to this day, I have no idea why.  But I am grateful that I was finally able to walk away.  Obviously, deep scars still remain and probably always will, but my life is much more peaceful now and their absence from my life feels more natural and less painful these days--that's a blessing, too. I missed them terribly in the beginning; I begged them to see things from my perspective--apparently, that wasn't an option and I did finally give up trying.  My entire life had been spent trying to gain their approval, their love, their understanding--simply for them to see me, hear me, and to know me for who I am--not the narrative that they had created.  It's amazing how difficult (and sometimes impossible) it can be to change those family dynamics--especially when you are the only one that seems to want the dynamics to change.

The truth is, there are so many people that will hurt us deeply throughout our life--partners, friends, coworkers, even random strangers--but nothing compares to the pain that our family can cripple us with.  We see other folks with loving, supportive families and we wonder why we can't have that, too.  The unconditional support and love of a family is what we hear about all of our lives--but not all of us have been shown that support and love. As children especially, we internalize it and think that it is because we aren't lovable. So we try harder, we adopt hobbies that they enjoy thinking maybe they will spend time with us, we go out of our way to be the best human we can be, because at some point they may love us, accept us, or even be proud of us.  Many of us become overachievers because just one more accomplishment may be what makes that love and support finally happen--but the flip side is that we can't be happy with any of our own accomplishments when we are doing them for someone else and they don't even care.  It all feels hollow--we are left feeling empty--there becomes a void within us that we struggle to fill with anything (food, sex, material possessions, anything to either help us feel momentarily "full" or to blank out the emptiness and make it hurt less).  This cycle can go on forever and for some folks it goes on until their dying breath.  At what point is it acceptable for us to have had enough?  At what point does the rest of the world understand when we finally say "enough" and walk away? At what point does the world understand that we cannot continue to function with that level of pain?

It's funny, when I was with the PFA-partner, those relationship patterns and dynamics were still playing out on another level.  I gave him everything and tried so hard to make him happy--for him to love me and be happy with me.  He took and took, giving out abuse in return--in my eyes, if I just tried harder it would get better--he would quit hurting me and would love me as much as I loved him.  But it wasn't until he destroyed every shred of my self-esteem, my love for him, and my sanity that I walked away--and just like that, as I was leaving--he suddenly decided I had worth, he suddenly saw me as "his soulmate", he wanted me in his life more than anything--but it was too late.  So very too late.  Too much damage had been done and I had nothing left to give him.  Sadly, I only had value in his eyes after I became unattainable.  But it is funny, how similar those overall dynamics were to the dynamics within my family.  I was enemy number one while I was present and in the relationship with the PFA-ex--after leaving, something was missed about me--I think it was having me as a whipping post; having something/someone to hurt was what he missed most.  The love-blasting only lasted with him as long as he thought there was a chance that I would move back in with him and he would have his "cash cow" back--when he realized that the love-blasting wasn't working, I wasn't coming back, it got even uglier and that's when the PFA process was forced to begin.  

With my family, there was no "love-blasting" after I left--they took it as confirmation that I was all the bad things that they had believed all along with me.  "See? See how horrible she is? Look at what she is doing to her own family!"  It was actually my youngest brother that started with me not existing within the family.  For the next year, my youngest brother withheld my nephews from me, but he did invite my PFA-ex to family events instead. If I was present, my youngest brother actually pretended that I wasn't there--if I spoke, he ignored me--if I looked at him, he looked elsewhere--as far as he was concerned, I did not exist.  He also said and did some pretty terrible things during that time that cut me to the bone.  As for my father, he refused to talk to me about what had happened--he refused to hear how any of it felt for me--he chose to tell me instead that he was the hero of the story and it's too bad I couldn't see that, too.  What choice did they leave me? A person can only try for so long.  It's pretty simple: 

My father says that I am bitter, vindictive, and other lovely things--those are the reasons that he seems to believe that I stay away.  They still don't see how the years of hurts, harsh words, and false accusations were too much. They can't see how the events and the way that they treated me through 2010 and 2011 were the "enough" that I needed to finally walk away from the pain.  Again, they can't see me, hear me, or know me for who I am.  My absence is the only sane option that I can see at this point--it's a matter of self-preservation.  There is no accountability on their end--just me being "too sensitive", "bullshit" being the answer when I have tried to explain how and why I was hurt, or other reasons why my feelings were invalid or wrong.  Throughout my life, attempts to explain my feelings or show them who I am have been met with such resistance that it's really surprising that I even tried for the 36 years that I did.  People don't get to hurt you and then also tell you that you aren't allowed to be hurt by what they did--what reality does that come from?  When they hurt you and then try to tell you that you shouldn't be hurt, it adds another layer of pain--after so long, the layers become too deep and the only choice is to walk away from them and the pain they repeatedly cause you.  I understand that we all need to be the hero in the story, but when we destroy other people to become that hero, we can't be upset when they leave us without looking back.

But this is all another reason that I am so grateful for the others like me out there, the ones that share their story, too--the ones that share the quotes in this post.  Knowing that I am not alone and that there are others out there that "get it" and don't treat me poorly for walking away from my family are a huge blessing.  It gets so exhausting when well-meaning people say "But they are your family, they love you, you have to forgive them, you have to spend time with them..." Those folks haven't walked in my shoes, they have no idea what any of this has felt like from my perspective, they just don't know.  They weren't around for the tears, the heartbreak, they don't hear or see me, either.  To me, the friends that understand and support me in what I had to do are invaluable.  I may not have been able to find the love and support I needed in my birth family, but I have found it in other folks like myself.  And I walk so many of my clients and friends through similar challenges--I have always tried to use my own hurts to help others--it's the only way to turn darkness into light.  I hope they are able to eventually find inner-peace and love, too.  And these days, my accomplishments are for me--nobody else and I no longer keep people that hurt me, no matter who they are. Until then, I have a new goal, myself:

My family doesn't define who or what I am.  Only I can do that.  They can say they know me, they can think they know me--but they don't. They never have.  It isn't that I did not invite them into my life--I did over and over and over--it was all that I ever wanted for so much of my lifetime. It is that they chose not to be here.  These days I am okay with that.  It still sucks on many levels, but overall--I see where I am better off now.  It's not unlike when I finally gained freedom from the PFA-ex and there was nothing in this world that would make me want to go back to that pain and abuse--it is better here where their attempts to hurt me are less like swords and knives, but are more like pin pricks and papercuts...

My youngest brother and I do speak now, but it is still rare.  I think we have mostly moved beyond the events from 2010-2011, but I am not sure that we can ever return to where we were before that.  He was my best friend and I looked at him more like my own child than a brother and his children were my world--now? We still have some good conversations; I think he sees those events more clearly now--he has even apologized on some levels for his parts in it, but he also still struggles with feeling stuck in the middle of the family rift.  These days he lives 1000 miles away, so chances to repair the relationship are much more difficult, as well. I have never even met his 4 1/2 year old daughter; I haven't seen my nephews since January 2014--we have all grown, changed, and are separated on most levels.

As for my dad, he has four kids and four grandchildren, these days.  I live twenty miles away, but it could be on the other side of the planet, at this point.  He did send me a Christmas card in 2020 that was nicer--no lectures, no nastiness--just a simple "Merry Christmas"--I do see that as progress on his part.  He has a son with three grandchildren 1000 miles away; another son 600+ miles away; plus another daughter 350 miles away, but he didn't even acknowledge her when she lived 10 miles away from him--so their nonexistent relationship now is no surprise. He still sees two of us as an extension of himself, but he does seem to be proud of them now; as for the other two of us, one doesn't exist in his eyes at all and I gave up trying eleven years ago.  Again, what were the other options? He stated so many times while we were growing up that if we were fish he would flush us down the toilet, so I guess it is no surprise that we are all so far away physically, emotionally, and in most manners.  While I accept that he may have tried his best to be a father--he reminded us repeatedly that he would have preferred to not try at all.  Maybe sometimes those types of wishes do get answered...  

Of Trees, Statues, and 70th Birthdays

Friday (March 6th) would have been my mom's 70th birthday--that's just a weird concept when she never even made it to 43.  I have outlived my mother by several years now (I will be 47 in July), which is also strange to contemplate.  I did mostly okay with her birthday this year, some struggles yesterday and today--but overall, it was one of her "easier" birthdays.  It's been 27 years--several lifetimes since I had a mom.  This year her birthday was noted, but I was mostly okay.

Honestly, I am surprised that I did so well with her birthday this year--it was a big one.  Her 50th and 60th saw me as an absolute mess.  Plus on March 3rd, I got notice that true to form, my letter did NOT matter--her murderer will still get another hearing soon.  They did not give me a date for the hearing, but more letters will be needed from friends and family to help keep him behind bars.  I knew this was coming, so I was mostly able to handle this news with acceptance.  I anticipate the hearing will be around Mother's Day as this is when his hearings typically seem to fall.

I'm sharing another piece of my week.  Thursday night, March 5th, I made the mistake of finally looking to see to what extent my neighbor had killed the trees surrounding my home.  I struggled greatly as the loggers occupied the woods behind and around my house January 20-23, but it took me until Thursday to be able to go fully see what they had done.  In addition to discovering that the deer had definitely killed my smoke bush (I doubt that it will be able to come back from their destruction) and my cottonwood tree, I discovered that the loggers also destroyed the statues and stump at the heart of my pet cemetery.  I am, quite honestly, appalled.

The St Francis statue was given to me by a dear friend that became a mother-figure to me.  She died unexpectedly December 20, 2018--I was the last person to see her alive.  I miss her beyond belief and still struggle greatly with losing her.  The angel was also given to me by another dear friend--again, not replaceable.  The cemetery marker is actually my mom's--I could not afford a headstone, so for many years, that was the only marker for her grave.  I was finally able to obtain a headstone around a decade after her death, due to a wonderful stone carver that permitted me to make payments and thanks to a handful of loved ones that also chipped in to help make that happen.  I added her original marker here so that I would have a place to be close to her at home.

I'm not going to lie--despite making it through her 70th birthday, despite my response to the hearing notice--I am super raw.  Or perhaps because of those things, I am raw--I'm not sure.  As a result, I began crying as soon as I saw the damage done to my pet cemetery and my smoke bush (the smoke bush is also the grave site/marker for one of my very special ferrets--so that was a hard blow, too).  But walking along the woodline and seeing the trees the loggers took out, the destruction they caused, they mess they thought nothing of leaving behind, I am heartbroken.  It's hard to love humans (and deer) when one is surrounded by the damage that they cause.  I know to some they are just trees and just statues, but honestly, I am crushed--there's no two ways about it. 

My pet cemetery is obviously a sacred space to me. And those that know me well know that trees are not just "a part of outside" to me.  To me they are living beings, they are friends, I talk to them, I greet them, I apologize to them when humans cause them harm or disfigure them.  My mom told me when I was little that she suspected I may have been a druid in a past life due to my unusual bond with trees, plants, and other vegetation. I have always loved trees--they bring me peace--they are part of my healing.  Granted, they were my neighbor's trees--I have no say in his actions--but I still hate it. I struggle with sharing these deep parts of my soul, but writing is my therapy.  I am working on healing the best ways that I know how.  Quite frankly, losing these trees and statues just compounded my grief and sense of loss over the past week.  I don't really expect others to understand, I just needed to release the sorrow somewhere safe...

27 Years... Another Letter

Tomorrow is the 27th anniversary of my mom being murdered. I was so proud of myself--I thought this year I would make it through mostly okay. And then I stopped by the post office today on my way home from work...  

First, I pulled out a notice from Guidepost that my gift subscription expired. My Grandma got a gift subscription to Guidepost every year, faithfully, for each of her grandchildren (and probably for everyone on her Christmas list). It didn't matter if we read them or not--it didn't matter what our spiritual inclinations might be--she held onto hope. More than anything, she wanted everyone in her life to "find Jesus" and follow the path of Christianity. I remember how hard she prayed for Grandpa to eventually find that path and how much that meant to her. It meant the same to her for all of her loved ones to be saved as she had. It was a hard reminder that she is gone. It hasn't even been a month yet since she died.

I am sure Guidepost will send these notices for the remainder of my life in hopes that I will send them money. This weekend, I shall be writing to them and asking them to please stop--I do not need regular reminders that my Grandmother is no longer here and that's what this sort of mail becomes. A trigger. A reminder that your loved one is gone and that everything is different now. Notices from Guidepost will just be random hurts that I wish to avoid.

The only other piece of mail addressed to me? CALIFORNIA DEPARTMENT OF CORRECTIONS AND REHABILITATION Board of Parole Hearings... I hate to say it, but I prayed it would be a notice that he is deceased.  I always have them opened before I even make it back to my vehicle--I am just grateful I picked up the mail after work today, instead of before.  Instant hysterical sobs and a complete break-down in the post office parking lot.  I screamed repeatedly on my drive home, trying to navigate through the school dismissal and rush hour traffic while sobbing uncontrollably.  Maybe it would have been safer to stay in the post office parking lot, but I was too embarrassed--ugly crying at home is bad enough.  In public, during daylight hours?  No thanks.   I had a hard enough time driving home--going to work and functioning after opening that piece of mail would have been more than a bit problematic. The days in this week already weigh heavily on me and challenge my functioning. I do not need threats of him being released added to the fun, yet here we are. Again.

Mother's Day 2018 (May 13, 2018). The 26th anniversary of her death--January 10, 2019. And now again, January 10, 2020--the 27th anniversary of her death. I sit and write letters to keep her murderer in jail. Each year, the hardest days--those are the ones they choose to do this. Does he choose these dates? Is it someone in their office? Every year... That's when we are forced to write our letters to keep him behind bars--Mother's Day?  The anniversary of her death?  Seriously--that is so messed up. I just want it to stop... When will our rights finally supersede her murderer's rights?

Healing From Trauma

Earlier this week, I read an article that I didn't love, but it did have some very key points that have stuck with me over the past days.  Read it at your leisure, take from it what you will, I am sharing the parts that stuck with me and why.  Trauma Is Not Your Fault, But Healing Is Your Responsibility

"Healing is our responsibility because if it isn’t, an unfair circumstance becomes an unlived life."  I have struggled greatly with processing the events that occurred nearly a decade ago.  People that I could not view a life without, and that I loved deeply, intentionally hurt me and were intentionally cruel to me.  I have spent almost ten years examining the events that transpired, the way that I was treated, and I admit that I still don't understand the events on all levels.  I perhaps never will.  I have worked greatly on healing and repairing myself, but there will always be deep scars from those events and I do not believe that many of those relationships will ever return to the free, unconditional love that once existed.  I have not only seen their ugly sides, but I have had that ugliness pointed directly at me.  With great harm done comes great consequences.  I don't want to be bitter, I don't want to hold grudges, but knowing what my loved ones did to me at a time when I needed them most and begged for their help, only to have them become my attackers as well?  How can I ever trust them with my most vulnerable parts again?  I see it as foolhardy to embrace them freely now.

I did spend that first year, as I was trying to heal, almost completely alone.  If the people I loved most in life could destroy me like that, who could I trust?  I did stop living because the wounds were so deep that I was no longer able to function as a "normal human" in society.  I had to relearn how to walk through life as others did without crying, without fear, without terror.  Not only from the things my loved ones and family had done to me, but from the things that I lived through as my ex terrorized me.  I was truly a shell of a human after those events.  Perhaps one of the hardest parts of returning to a normal life was learning to quit watching over my shoulder and literally checking the rear view mirror more than I watched the road while attempting to venture beyond my property, but instead returning to a state that most people take for granted in their daily life--that they are safe and can move about freely through their life without constant threats of physical harm from other humans.  

An unlived life.  Living in constant fear and extreme terror is exhausting.  Ten years later, I feel semi-safe since my ex is currently in jail.  I have mostly been able to resume my life as a result.  But I cannot deny that I fear the day that he is released into society again.  He has been in jail since August 2016 and I have definitely used these years as a time of healing and gathering strength.  My only hope is that this strength remains when he is free in the world again.  But yes, agreed.  If I do not heal, I remain fearful of the outside world--which hurts me even more.  I need to keep trying to reach the place that most folks walk through life--with faith that the world will not hurt them.  Isolating due to excessive fear is a hard place to live.  Not feeling safe anywhere--be it in my own yard, inside my home, or in my vehicle is what was taken from me in 2010.  I still fight those fears and still fight to rejoin a normal life.  Healing has been an enormous challenge that isn't easily explained to others.

"Healing is our responsibility because unprocessed pain gets transferred to everyone around us, and we are not going to allow what someone else did to us to become what we do to those we love." Leaking.  I wrote about leaking in other blog posts: On Stopping Leaks.  This is still an area that I struggle with--honestly, I think most humans do.  I especially leak related to the 2010 trauma when around my extended family members.  I feel like they all still believe my father and his hero narrative.  The truth is, many of them hurt me deeply, too, through it.  I still leak hard.  Even ten years later, I still desire them to see it as I did, to know what actually happened through my eyes.  And yes, for them to see their parts in it all and to apologize.  The truth?  They don't care.  They have their own hero narratives to support and admitting that they were part of the problem isn't an option.  So I continue to leak, dredge up the past, which echoes in their heads as "stuck",  "here we go again", and these are the only pieces they see of me.  Only allowing them to see these stuck parts is more likely to reinforce my father's narrative that I am "broken" and filled with animosity verses who I really am. 

Healing and accepting that it is part of the past allows me to be more comfortable around those that I may wish to resume a relationship with again and allows me to relax instead of trying to make them see my side, which is something they are not capable of no matter what I say or do.  I realize that this point is in regards to "everyone around us", this was just an added part of where processing this part of the article led.  If I am to repair any of these relationships, I need to heal and accept what was done to me.  I cannot fix it.  I cannot change it.  It is already woven into my story's tapestry.  But I can chose what gets woven into future chapters.  I can continue to work on my own healing and fixing those leaks.  If they haven't seen my side yet over the past ten years, of what benefit could the leaks be over the next ten?  Acceptance is my best bet in healing this part of the past.

"The thing is that when someone else does something wrong and it affects us, we often sit around waiting for them to take the pain away, as though they could come along and undo what has been done."  As I wrote about in my last blog post, Another Chapter Closes, I spent ten years waiting for my father to recognize his error and not only apologize to me, but for him to admit to the world that he hurt me when he should not have.  Ten years.  I believed that him apologizing and admitting his error would somehow heal me.  That somehow it would fix my now broken parts.  Somehow, it would undo the damage done.  I recognize now that had he apologized, I would have accepted him back into my life and that it would have opened doors for him to cause me even more pain.  Yet for so long, I felt like the only thing that could take away my pain and hurt spots from 2010 was for all of the key players to apologize, admit their error, and for them to attempt to make amends.  The reality?  This is still leaving the key to my happiness in THEIR pockets.  It is still giving them ultimate control over my life, my happiness, my freedom.  Isn't that part of how this entire debacle came about?  Had I not reached out to my father and my family for help--had I stayed away from them in the first place--so many of those events would have never transpired.  Of course, that is looking with hindsight and I had no way of knowing that my family would turn against me as they did.  In fact, the lesson I am suggesting here is to not trust a single human and to try to solve everything on my own--I have learned that this way doesn't work, either.  Lord knows I have tried that route many times.  It doesn't work.  Alone isn't a healthy option.  It's an option, for sure, but perhaps not the best one.

My brother hasn't fully apologized for his part in the 2010 events, but he has made some attempts toward explaining his actions.  It doesn't undo his words or his actions.  It doesn't undo that out of everyone in it, he perhaps hurt me the most.  He was my best friend through so many years.  He is my brother.  He was one of the few people that had walked with me through my life and that I thought knew me.  He is a part of our mom and I can't imagine that, had she still been alive, she would have permitted any of that to reach the levels it did.  My brother's was, honestly, the deepest betrayal of them.  He has stated to me that he erred by listening to what his wife and our dad were telling him.  Yet he still states that they all believed they were helping and that they were all looking out for my best interest.  I must remind myself that my brother wasn't here to actually see what our father did, he wasn't present when our father came here or when I had my PFA hearing.  He has swallowed what our father has told him because it is easier to believe that his sister lies than to believe that his father does.  My brother also still tries to see the good in his ex-wife because she is the mother of his children and is half of their creation.  And he still has his own hero narrative to listen to, as well. 

While some healing has occurred because my brother has at least made efforts to make amends, it still does not erase it.  But it does allow him back into my life and for a relationship to still exist.  We are still determining what that relationship will look like, even ten years later.  He has spent most of the past decade 975 miles away.  Neither of us enjoy talking on the phone, so our communication is very minimal.  I have a new sister-in-law that I do not know, a three year old niece that I have never met, and my nephews (that were my world) are growing up without me.  But I cannot change these things.  I have no desire to move there, nor do I think that is in my best interest, and he has no desire to be back here.  So in addition to past wounds, healing those wounds and taking on a "new normal" has really not happened.  We each walk through our lives without the other.  Prior to 2010, I never saw this as a possibility, but here we are.  This broke me deeply in the beginning, but since then, acceptance has occurred and my own life has moved forward, as well.

As for my father, an apology would still be nice.  But as has so often been the case with our relationship, I have accepted that the pieces I have always needed from him in my life simply aren't within the realm of reality.  What he fails to see is that it wasn't simply the events from 2010 that have led to our current situation--it was also the 36 years of hurts prior to that.  His actions in 2010 simply were the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back.  Had our relationship had a stable foundation prior to 2010, we probably could have still found a "new normal", as well.  While a sincere apology at one point would have helped in moving forward, I now see that keeping those doors closed are in my best interest.  I am okay with this.  I have been healing without him.  I think at some point in my life removing him would have been necessary, whether it was as extreme as the 2010 events ended up being or had it been smaller events and hurts, this was probably inevitable.  Some people are simply toxic to us, no matter who they are in our lives.  He is toxic in many lives but fails to see that.  There are reasons that of his four children only one lives close to him and there are valid reasons that one refuses to have a relationship with him on any level.  His hero narrative will never permit him to see this, but that is part of his life journey--not mine.  

Yes, healing from trauma is in our best interest.  But only we can define what that healing looks like.  Perhaps our healing appears as animosity to others or it appears to them that we are hateful, vile, bitter humans because our healing means moving forward without them.  But as our journey was when they were still included in our lives, it is also our responsibility to learn when their words and actions are their reality, not ours.  For me, healing is learning that the words and actions of toxicity that once coated me and were used as the paint for my own life canvas aren't words and actions that I need to bring forward with me.  For me, healing is moving forward with those pieces now tucked in a box--one that is no longer leaking and spilling toxins throughout my life.  I must occasionally open the box and reevaluate how those pieces fit into my life currently because those pieces will always be here--I cannot throw them away or pretend they do not exist--not if I wish to remain in control of my healing.  But in my healing, I can determine how close to my heart that box of pieces remains.  I can choose to keep them in a place that permits me to remember the lessons but that I am still able to heal and move forward with light and love in my own journey.  

It no longer matters what any of those individuals believes about my journey or how they describe my journey to paint themselves as heroes to themselves and those around them.  My goal in healing over the next decade is to let it go.  I know the story.  Many others know the true story, as well.  No amount of hope, leaking, or explaining will change any of it.  I have tunneled through this piece of my past.  I have removed these obstacles bit-by-bit.  This next part of healing is about acceptance, closure, and reinventing myself in the healthiest ways possible.  I will allow them their hero narratives, but will still remain mindful of those 2010 lessons that they shared with me, but in a healthier manner.  For that is their piece of the journey and for them to discover--or not, if they choose.  In my healing, I shall determine what levels they are permitted in my current life--or not, if I choose.  And I shall not allow their current attempts to crush me with guilt and continued toxicity to permeate my well-being.  Instead, I shall recognize those attempts as confirmation of what I already knew--that my healing must continue without some of them.  I also accept this as part of my healing and moving forward in light and love.  I am and will continue healing.

Another Chapter Closes

April 10, 2010--my father came to my house with threats and physical aggression.  To give you an idea, my last dog loved absolutely everyone--she was, by far, the friendliest dog that I have ever had. I only saw her get upset one time in all of my years with her (growling, teeth bared, fur raised, standing squarely in front of me in a protective stance). This occurred when my father arrived at my house unexpectedly, believing that I wasn't home and thinking that he could snoop around (it was also the only time he had ever "visited" me in the years that I had her--and it wasn't a friendly visit, not by a long shot). I eventually had to go outside to talk to him because I was worried he may shoot her (yes, he carries a gun and had it showing in plain sight). If my dog feels I need protected from someone, they probably aren't a person I should have in my life. And he wasn't, but as my father I continually forgave and let him back into my life, only to be hurt time and time again. Honestly, I should have listened to my dog--as soon as we were outside and away from her, his actions turned from verbal threats of harm to physical force.

April 22, 2010--my father made his threats reality and attempted to have me committed to a hospital. This involved submitting a false report that resulted in police officers, handcuffs, and one of the hardest days of my life. The years that followed this were much worse. The events of these two days were the catalyst to me removing my father from my life and avoiding events that he is at (family gatherings, holidays, family reunions, etc). He has officially been removed from my life for almost ten years now. The unexpected side effect? I am doing better mentally and emotionally. I had no idea through the years how much of my own self-worth was colored by his negativity toward me or how much of my lifelong depression was connected to our interactions. While his removal has been painful in many ways, the overall result has been a happier, healthier me.

Friends and family alike continue to tell me that my father loves me and that I need to "get over" all that he has done to me. I am fairly certain that if he were a random person in my life, people would have encouraged me to get a PFA or a restraining order. Not only does he tell all of them very different versions, he tries to tell ME that none of the events ever happened--including a great number of things that he did in front of others people--people that 100% remind me, yes--he did do those things. It's funny how people so often expect us to accept treatment they would never condone from others in their own lives. Had these actions been directed at them I have no doubt they would have reacted with lawsuits, physical retaliation, and strong actions themselves. All I ask for is acceptance that I do not wish my father in my life.

In 2012, I got engaged.  I struggled with the idea of having a wedding where my entire family was invited except my father and his wife.  To me, that is horrible and cruel.  I reached out to him and tried to make amends.  I desperately wanted to repair that relationship, despite potential costs to my sanity.   He again stated that I was crazy, that he was on my side during the 2010 PFA hearing, that he never accused me of being on drugs, that he did not come to my house and make threats or try to hurt me, that he was 100% supportive of me throughout the entire PFA process, and that I just doesn't remember the events correctly because I was so "ill".  He went on to say that if he had not stepped in as he did, I would have killed hundreds of people, maybe more, in a mass shooting but luckily he prevented all of that and I am all better now because of him and his actions in 2010.  It doesn't matter that there are plenty of other folks besides me that know of his threats and actions, that were there to witness his behaviors toward me--the gaslighting still occurs.  More so, HE believes his narrative and seems baffled that I do not see him as the hero.

It somewhat reminds me of an ex-boyfriend I had decades ago that did some pretty awful stuff to me (and to other girls)--he later bragged that I was who I am today because he helped make me successful.  My boyfriend at the time knew what he did to all of us and put the boots to him.  I didn't want them to fight, that happened after I left in tears and appalled that he bragged about some imaginary good part he thought he had in my life, but I can't deny looking back that he deserved those boots and probably some significant jail time.  The connection here?  Hurting someone deeply, beyond repair, and still believing that you are a hero to that person and they should be grateful.  The belief that the person should sing glory to you when in reality, they are a sum of broken pieces because of your actions against them.  I suppose perhaps this is how some folks manage to live with themselves and are still able to sleep at night.

At my brother's wedding in January 2014, I was approached with the opener of: "I know you hate your father, but..." and I had to explain that I don't hate my father.  I don't think that my father or anyone else understands that me excluding him from my life and avoiding family functions is not some vengeful act.  My actions, over the past years, are not about hurting anyone, or trying to make him feel sorry or guilty--it never has been.  It is simply because even though it hurts me to exclude my family from my life, it hurts me even more when I let them in.  This is and has always been self-preservation.  But I guess when he has always seen me as a monster, misunderstood me and viewed me as a horrible person--it only stands to reason that he wouldn't understand my absence any better than he understands my existence.  Nor has he ever taken the time to get to know me--that is his doing, his choice.  All I have ever wanted was for him to see me for who I am--it hurt when he couldn't.

A few Christmases back (2015? 2016? I am not sure), I attempted to attend a family function and had my dad corner me, hug me, and tell me that he loved me.  I suppose the normal person would see this as sweet and his attempt at healing things.  I distinctly heard my one aunts say "aw..."--everyone reacting as if this were a beautiful Hallmark moment of healing.  However, for me it was a horrible moment of feeling trapped and retraumatized.  Please don't forget, that prior to this, the last time my dad acted like he was going to give me a hug, it went from a hug to him grabbing me firmly by the shoulders and shaking me back and forth like a ragdoll (I weighed 115 to his 300+ lbs), yelling at me.  I was forced to use blocking self-defense moves to protect myself and had to ask him to leave my property.  THAT was the last time I willing allowed him to touch me and it may very well be the last.  You don't force yourself physically on people that you have been abusive to.  That isn't okay.  And due to his actions and words when we are alone and do not have an audience, I cannot be convinced that his hug was anything other than a show he was putting on for others.  Either way, it wasn't okay.  It was still physical force against my wishes and against what is healthy for me--it was still ignoring my boundaries, my comfort, and him asserting his will upon me forcibly.  Some may insist it was just a hug and his attempt to fix things--however, I have 46 years of experience suggesting differently.

January 2017, I decided to wish him a happy birthday through Facebook, because apparently I am always the fool extending an olive branch.  That was when I discovered that he has me blocked on Facebook.  It was a firm reminder that no matter what he tells others, his actions are still 1000x louder.  Facebook blocking is for those that you want absolutely nothing to do with in any fashion.  So for all of his talk and show (he loves me, but I refuse to have a relationship with him--he keeps trying, but I'm the problem, etc), he and I both know it is exactly that--talk.  You do not block people on Facebook that you want in your life and are trying to rebuild a relationship with.  These are the things that I get to see that others do not.

July 2019, he sent me yet another horrible birthday card.  Perhaps someday I will learn to just throw them away, but that tiny piece of hope still lingers that they will contain the kindness, love and words that I always wanted when he was in my life.  While they no longer say weird things about me needing to accept his wife and his marriage, they are still ugly and still get straight to the point that he just doesn't get it.  These are things that tell me I am better off keeping the distance between us.  These are the things that remind me that if I let him back in, more pain will follow.  

All of my life it has been this way--he plays Mr. Wonderful Dad for the world, yet is a completely different person one-on-one.  Loving words and a show for others--while private interactions are often cruel, hurtful, and meant to bait me into conflict.  I don't know if I am bitter or if I just can't get over my "animosity", which he claims is my issue--but at this point, an apology will no longer fix it.  There was a time when all I wanted was for him to acknowledge what really occurred during that time in 2010, that if he could have even potentially entertained the idea that he was wrong about me and those events (and ideally, sincerely apologized for not helping me, but instead making the PFA situation 1000x worse), I would have let him back into my life.  It has been almost a decade since these events.  No apology ever occurred, no entertaining on his part that perhaps he was wrong, just more gaslighting, with nasty interactions done in private.  I have now had almost ten years to see how my life is without him and to discover that it is a better place here.  Inner peace needs to be a part of my life--I cannot have my father in my life, too. I cannot have both. I tried that for 36 years and it didn't go well. I have had almost a decade to examine the events of 2010 and the 36 years of having my father in my life. I am able to look back and see everything in a very different, clearer light. A light now removed from feeling, emotion, and attachment.

He claims that I am bitter, vindictive, hateful. I can see where that is what is easiest for him. Perhaps I can justify that removing myself is just to protect my father from such a vile person as myself--if he believes all of those things and is not willing to get to know the real me--there is no point. This is exactly what I explained to him in 2010 and I can see the message still hasn't translated properly for him. Nearly a decade later, I choose to continue walking as I have and healing. I choose the next 36 years father-free and being mentally healthy.

"If they made a monster out of you because you walked away from their drama, so be it. Let them deal with what they have created. Be at peace with yourself, and stay out of the conflict." ~Dodinsky~

Another Decent Read

Worth sharing.  Why Trauma Survivors Can't Just 'Let It Go'

"Trauma survivors are often highly motivated people. Many are conditioned to be hyperaware and hypervigilant out of survival. They are often overly critical of themselves because they were held to impossible standards by their abusers, and their attempts to please them often went sour. Some become overachievers, yet never feel like what they achieve is enough. Because nothing is ever good enough to appease an abuser, some survivors give up trying, becoming the self-fulfilling prophecy of whatever their abusers told them they were. Many survivors internalize that they are 'lazy' when it’s not a lack of motivation that keeps them from their goals, it’s trauma. Trauma causes the nervous system to fight, flee or freeze, and for many survivors, their bodies are either stuck in one of these, or alternate between the three. Holding this pattern together is a web of toxic shame that is extremely difficult to break. Think of a race car stuck in first gear, with a foot on the gas and a foot on the break. That’s how many survivors get around."

My Personal Recipe For Depression Removal

Today, one of my posts was about "smiling depression", which was a new term for me.  At any rate, I added the following personal information: "Having lived with major depression from birth until around age 38, this article reminded me of all the times that I heard 'just put on a happy face and eventually you will feel happy'... most assuredly, that did NOT work for me in my 38 years of trying--kudos to those that it does work for, I just wasn't one of them..."  This was met with the following question: "You indicated that at 38 you no longer suffered from major depression. Can I ask what helped you?"  My response was this:

"I can say part of it was that I learned about KFUK (thank you, Anne Lamott and thank you to CBT) and learned to 'change the station'.  KFUK was probably the biggest thing that removed my depression--another piece was removing the negative person that helped create that station, in the first place.  For me, I visualized a radio in my mind, anytime that I realized I was talking horribly to myself, I literally visualized turning the dial to another station.  So a lot of thought-stopping and thought refocusing in the beginning.  A LOT.  As that got easier, I started trying to figure out where the negative thoughts were coming from and why.  I then processed them and kicked them out.  So thought challenging, thought reframing--becoming more aware of inaccurate or negative thinking and responding in a healthier manner. 

So much of my depression was directly related to that negative self-talk.  It's still a work in process, but it gets easier with time and makes life so much better when you learn to be nice to yourself.  Being happy is NOT an option as long as negative self-talk hangs around. I know that depression is a complicated and evil beast, there is much more that went into me kicking it--but those were two of the big pieces--eliminating negative people, eliminating negative thoughts."   

　
But here is the unabridged version:

What helped me? Whoa.  Not one thing alone, that's for sure.  More like a recipe, with a smidgen of this and a dash of that...  But, I did go from major depression (with suicidal tendencies) to happiness and contentment with life, so this recipe worked for me.  Will it work for everyone battling depression?  Probably not, but I thinking even taking bits from it to recreate one's own personal recipe would help...

Step 1: Remove ALL negative people from your life--doesn't matter who they are or who insists you cannot remove them (lies--do it anyhow).  If they are bad for you, say hurtful things to you, if your soul screams when you are with them--run.  Don't look back.

Step 2: Change your inner-dialogue.  That awful little inner-voice that says terrible things to you?  Fight it.  Anytime that you catch yourself talking horribly to yourself--stop.  It is hard to do, but talk to yourself the way that you would to someone that you love more than life itself (your child, your best friend, someone you would never wish to harm).  Figure out where the negative thoughts are coming from and why--process them--and then kick them out.  Being happy is NOT an option as long as the negative self-talk hangs around.  My depression was directly related to that self-talk.  It's still a work in process, but it gets easier with time and makes life so much better when you learn to be nice to yourself.  And YES, you do deserve to be nice to yourself--start ignoring that sort of negative that immediately.  We all deserve happiness in life--end of story.

Step 3: Reduce your workload as much as possible while still being able to live and pay the bills--too often work equals stress.  Figure out what makes you happy and then pursue those wonderful things that make you happy (mine, as it turns out is ferrets--they make me laugh, feel calm, and make everything better--so my ferret recipe, at any given time, is six or more ferrets).  Exercise as much as you can, eat as well as you can, sleep as well as you can, spend as much time in nature as you can--these things are all amazing and can do wonders for the vehicle that you know as your body. 

Step 4: When you have a bad day, let it go.  Go to sleep--remind yourself that tomorrow is another day.  Seriously, SLEEP ON IT.  Try again the next day.  Setbacks happen, but they do not define you.  They are speed bumps and potholes in the book of life.  Your current success rate for surviving is 100%--don't ever forget that.  This also goes back to step two--learning to forgive yourself and moving on.

I have to also start by defining a few things that happened to me in recent years.  In 2007, I met what I thought was my dream partner--I was on cloud nine, thought my life was amazing in all areas (work, love, play--things were amazing).  In March 2009, I moved in with him and discovered him without his mask.  Living with him was hell, it sent me into a depression that I almost didn't come back from.  By the point that I left, I wasn't even sure if I was strong to escape, but I did on November 27, 2009.  April 1, 2010--he still wouldn't leave me alone, it had escalated to me living in absolute terror--I finally got a PFA on him.  April 22, 2010 was the official PFA hearing--it was also one of the worst days of my life and inspired this entire blog--so I won't go into that too much.  Long story short, I lost everyone in my life--my brother, whom I considered a best friend; my nephews, whom were my life and my everything; my dad, which also meant giving up my entire paternal family, which was also the only family I had--2010 was traumatic on levels I cannot describe in just a few sentences.  The depression that engulfed me during that time may have even been worse than when my mother was murdered in 1993.  Suicide was a constant thought and I had a real fight to stay alive.

Before the 2010 event, there were many people that I loved and considered to be my friends and family—but I discovered most of them were not good people and many of them were using me.  I was devoting so much of my time, my energy, and my love to them.  While I lost many good people, I also lost many that didn’t belong in my life.  I am now thankful for the empty spaces that they left behind.  Those empty spaces have been used to focus on me, my life, and the people that truly do love me.  A big part of my lifelong depression being eliminated?  Due to the 2010 events, my father is no longer in my life.  I later realized that my inner-dialogue was his voice, his words to me through the years, all the painful, hateful things he would say to me?  I learned to say them to me, too.  I am healthier and better without him and without that inner-dialogue.  It may sound harsh, but 36 years with my father in my life was a major source of my depression--I didn't know that at the time.  I just saw the depression as another of my many personality flaws and another reason to hate myself--vicious cycle.

Through 2010 and 2011, I attended weekly domestic violence meetings with other survivors.  I started to piece myself back together.  I had to learn to love life and most of all, to love myself.  I had to learn to not only be okay with myself as a person, but to like myself.  This has probably been the most difficult struggle.  But it is essential in reducing and removing depression.  I also began to recognize who my true supports were and kept only them.  I did hurt some people that I wish I had not during this cleansing, but many of the people that I had as friends were very hurtful to me on a regular basis--some without intending to--some because it made them feel better about themselves, but I had to set guidelines on what was hurtful and destructive to me.  I had to walk away from those that were tearing me apart, piece by piece, a little at a time--just as I did with the ones that did it in brute force, like my father.

March 2011, I met my current partner--definitely a good thing on all sorts of levels.  He has definitely supported me in pursuing my dreams, helped me figure out what makes me happy, and has been a huge support through hellish days.  I don't know how he managed to even stand me in the beginning, let alone love me or stay.  I was a mess and a challenge even to myself.  During one of our bookstore adventures in 2011, I found the book "Toxic Parents"--which was a bumpy ride and hard to read, doing the activities was even worse, but it was definitely a book that changed my life for the better and helped me start to remove my dad's "soundtrack of negativity" that I had over my lifetime turned into my own inner-dialogue, but never realized.  It helped me heal the lifetime of damage that relationship had caused, not that he meant to cause that inner-voice or that damage, I think we are just two very different people and his approaches at "fixing me" broke the fuck out of me.  I also started a blog (this blog, in fact!) on 8/9/11 about the 2010 events and I have to admit, that has been some of the best therapy ever.  Writing helps me work through issues, helps me process the crazy in my life, and sets me free.  In October 2011, I took Reiki I and Reiki II--life-changing, as well.  Reiki has been a beautiful thing in my life and I remain ever grateful that I pursued that path.

On 2/25/13, I bought my treadmill.  While it has done nothing noticeable for me physically, mentally it is a godsend.  It's where I go when I am angry, sad, frustrated--it clears my mind, gets me on track, and helps me mentally in ways that I never expected.  I typically walk between 9-12 miles per week on it--I can tell when I skip it--I get moodier and meaner than normal.  In 2013, a friend gave me Anne Lamott's book "Bird-By-Bird" and I learned about KFUK and learned to change the station (this was probably the second biggest thing that removed my depression--the first was removing the negative person that helped create that station, in the first place--I am including a blog post, Managing Those Inner Critics by Pamela Hale Trachta, that I found about KFUK to simplify things).  Also, July of 2013, for my 40th birthday, I bought myself a sewing machine.  I had no idea how to use a sewing machine and was terrified of them--but sewing has become one of my major therapy sessions.  I process so much mentally while I sew and work through so many issues.  That purchase also led to starting my own clothing line in August 2015, which has also been good for me spiritually. 

2016--ugh.  Can we delete 2016?  Another terrible year in the life from start to finish.  My depression did come back to play A LOT that year.  The setbacks, the deaths, the work crazy--all of it could have permitted the depression to reenter.  BUT, it didn't.  I cried so many tears during 2016 and had days where I had to fight to keep going, but like a test, I passed.  2016 was beyond ugly and I still feel sad thinking about any number of the nonstop events that transpired that year.  But 2016 also helped me realize that I am resilient.  I can bounce back.  I can still have happiness and contentment, no matter what life (and death) throws at me.  Making it through that year and still being depression-free gives me hope that I finally beat it.

In February 2018, I found kombucha and started brewing my own.  Weird as it sounds, when I have a bad day, I come home and reach for the booch--my mind eases.  Tension melts away.  I relax instantly.  I know it sounds silly, but yes, kombucha is part of my happiness recipe.  I feel silly even adding it to this list, but I have to.  My personal happiness recipe?  I guess it looks something like this: writing, Reiki, blogging, lots of ferrets, true friends, self-work, physical exercise, kombucha, sewing, self-love, self-healing, a supportive and loving partner, shutting off KFUK, getting rid of bad voices--whether they were my own or attached to family and "friends", a desire to get better, a desire to change--being fed up with life as I knew it and wanting happiness--wanting to be free.  It didn't happen overnight and I won't lie--it was hard work, it resulted in a lot of tears, a lot of angry moments, but I had to dig inside and find the roots of my depression and had to rip them out.  ALL OF THEM.  Even the ones that just had tiny roots and didn't hurt as much as some of the bigger ones--it all had to go.

So yeah, my recipe for eliminating depression?  Get rid of bad people and negative self-talk.  Replace them with people that love you and are genuine supports.  Not an option?  It is better to stand alone than with people that hurt you.  Love yourself--learn to look in the mirror and see the good things.  Discover your strengths and passions--pursue them.  Find the things that return you to a state of peace, calm, and joy--do them more.  Work on challenging and changing your destructive thoughts--they serve no purpose other than causing misery.

My depression was from birth until a few years ago.  It was severe.  There were times that I tried to end it; there were daily thoughts of ending it, even beyond the attempts.  For the past years, I have been able to live without the depression.  I have happiness.  Yes, I still have times where I struggle, but I can now fight them off and still be okay.  I am lucky--I had the tools necessary to start the healing journey and to see it through.  For those that do not, finding a good therapist--especially ones that specialize in CBT (Cognitive Behavioral Therapy) and ACT (Acceptance and Commitment Therapy) would be recommended.  Depression is a cruel master.  I would not wish it upon anyone.