Sometimes It Is All Just A Lot

Today is a teary eyed day.

Things have been really stressful for a while. 

Honestly, I think financially it peaked post COVID shutdown and losing my job after that -- which was difficult because I couldn't find a job that was comparable to the salary I was making prior to the shut down. And then with the prices of everything just continuously rising -- most especially in terms of childcare -- it just hasn't been cost effective for me to go back to work or really branch out and do anything on my own completely.

So I'm doing this stay at home mom thing. It's honestly not my favorite thing to be doing. I love my kiddos so much and I also like having my own identity outside of them and something to do. But I think I am where I am supposed to be for the time being until something else makes itself known.

There are other things I want to be doing with my life. I want to be advocating in a different way for mental health awareness. I want to be baking and I want to be writing. But you also can't stretch yourself too thin.

I need to be there for myself. I need to be there for my children. And I need to be there for my husband. I want our family unit to function the best way it can and so you have to sacrifice some comfort sometimes and doing everything that you want to be able to do. I try hard to hang onto the saying "You haven't missed anything that was meant for you" -- but it can get really discouraging sometimes. 

And that's not even the most stressful part of the last couple of years.

We've had 7 major deaths in our family and friend group over the last 7 years. Not that any death would be easier to handle, but these were all significant relationships. That's 7 people that are gone from our lives that played a big part.

There was so much grief and stress, I honestly don't know how we are still functioning as well as we are. I mean...I do to some extent. We do have other people who love and care about us. My husband and I deeply love and care about each other too -- which I think makes the absolute most difference out of everything. We shield our kids as much as we can from what we're going through, but in the past two years, they have felt the losses too -- and it's hard to help them navigate their sadness too -- especially when it hardly make sense as adults of why so many people have had to die so early.

I live in this perpetual state of fear of dying because we've had so many unexpected deaths of loved ones. Which, though understandable, is not healthy. (I'm working on this in therapy -- but also my therapist is currently on maternity leave, so it's just me and my journal until she's back ha) But I will say it has maybe changed a lot of my priorities for the better over time. There are some superficial things that I just don't care about anymore. And then with that, there are behaviors and attitudes from others that become far less tolerable because I don't feel like wasting energy on things that are not good for me or my family anymore -- but because of how broken people are and the world seems to be in general sometimes -- you're left with no choice but to do so. And there is always a part of me that has hope that things can be better and easier and people can be more empathetic, loving, and kind -- but it is also not lost on me that that is a lofty ask for people/systems/etc that are not really self aware nor aware of others feelings/emotions/situations.

So today I get teary eyed because my 5 year old reminds me that he didn't get to know my Mom. I showed him pictures of her and he said "You look so happy with your mom!" -- and it cut deep -- because I was and I wasn't. My situation with my own family of origin was extremely complicated and not always healthy. But I have better memories with my Mom than I do of my Dad -- and I know that sounds pessimistic but I also think that's the reality of growing up with someone with severe mental health issues and domestic abuse. And my relationship with my Mom, as I tried to individuate with my own family, got very strained because she was scared of being left alone and behind. And because she also didn't know how to talk about her feelings or emotions in a constructive way -- it really came out as anger and mean comments. 

It was really hard.

And I'm navigating it the best I can. Because when she died I remember feeling so incredibly detached because my dad's behaviors were escalating as it seemed like his mental health was declining and she would see a glimpse of it, and then explain it away and somehow blame me for "not seeing the good in people" -- and then she was gone and I was left with him.

And then he left to find "the love of his life" 3 months after she died. 

And one of the last conversations I had with my Dad was me telling him I felt like he really needed help and that I was willing to take him to appointments and to go to family therapy but that I felt like he was spiraling out. I told him that I loved him but I wasn't sure I could be apart of it anymore.

And do you know what he said to me? 

"If you say one more word to me, I'll call 911 and tell them you're threatening me"

I told my Dad that I loved him and wanted to get him help EVEN AFTER he decided to be in a relationship with some other crazy person after losing my Mom who he hurt PHYSICALLY, MENTALLY, FINANCIALLY, AND EMOTIONALLY and who I somewhat blamed for my mom's untimely death.

I tried to save him as much as I tried to save her.

Which was never my responsibility.

And his response was to push me as far away as possible.

And then two years passed and I found out he'd died alone and had not been found for 3 weeks.

And then it feels like an avalanche of other things happened after that and I still feel like I haven't put all of my heart's broken parts back together yet, even though I'm trying.

In the mean time, life just keeps moving forward and things that are stressful continue to happen.

More people die unexpectedly.

Before I have even fully processed the grief of the others. 

So then it just piles and piles.

And it gets VERY heavy.

And then someone asks you a question. Or you see a post of people with their parents/family/what have you on Facebook. Or a day that used to be special comes up. Or other anniversaries of things that aren't as great pass by. 

And you find yourself teary-eyed.

You get yourself a glass of water to bring yourself back down. 

You start to anxiously clean the kitchen as tears continue to pool but you know in the back of your mind that if you let it out, it will feel like it won't stop. You don't want to scare your kids and your husband has to go to work and he's going through a lot of his own emotions with his own very traumatizing year and you don't want to bog him down for the day either.

So once he's gone to work for the day.

Once your oldest is immersed in his video game with his headphones on.

And your youngest is snuggled up with a movie, a box of tissues for his cold, and a warm blanket in your bed upstairs.

You sit on the step stool in your kitchen and just sob for a while. 

Full. On. Ugly Cry. 

And you let yourself feel it all for however long you can stand it because it needs to come out or you'll get anxious and angry about something else. Something smaller and less significant because you want to ignore the very real and painful things.

Why did write this? I'm not entirely sure what my point was.

I guess authenticity. Realness in the struggle with mental health. 

What it looks like when you get triggered? I don't know.

The long term impacts of recovery from trauma.

Sometimes I'm just a freaking mess. And sometimes I'm not. 

I know how to find peace now -- which was needed. And it's helpful.

But sometimes that sadness, that REALLY valid heartbreak -- still hits you and it knocks the wind out of you. And it feels scary and a little out of control -- and for a recovering perfectionist, control freak -- it is very unpleasant.

If you made it this far through this thing without being like, woo this girl is all over the place -- kudos to you because I am indeed all over the place sometimes and that's okay. I can always bring myself back around at some point.

But I feel a hell of a lot better when I give everything the space that it needs.

The more someone looks like they have it together in a neat little package with a perfect bow on top, the more I question if that is actually reality for them. 

Maybe it is for some people -- but for some reason I kind of doubt it. 

I don't know if this will help anybody else feel seen in their own difficulties but I surely hope that it does.

Hugs and love to anyone else going through a tough time. It's hard. Your feelings are valid. And I hope you have the support that you need and if you don't, that you can empower yourself to find it or ask for help finding it. It's really necessary.

Dear Dad

 Dear Dad,

I wish that I wanted to wish you a Happy Father’s Day today. I wish that I had silly pictures of us having a good time together. I wish that I had the ability to think back on a good memory that would negate all of the bad ones. Except that every good memory I have turned into something not so great. And that is just the truth. I wish that I could say that my Dad was my hero and taught me all of the things I needed to know in my life and always lifted me up when I was down. I wish that I could say that I couldn’t wait to spend the day with you and grill and laugh and reminisce about all of our good times together. I wish that I could say that my kids are so lucky to have you as their Grandpa and that the relationship that you and my Mom had was one I would envy for the ages and hope that mine would be the same. I wish I could say how supportive you were of me and how I know that you were proud of me. I wish I could say that I missed you terribly and that my life has been worse since you haven’t been a part of it. 

I wish I could have sat down with you and had you realize that you really needed help and that you would have agreed to face your demons. I wish I could have told you how badly you hurt me and how deep those emotional scars run into the depths of my soul and that you would have cried and apologized and promised to do better and then done better. I wish you would have been kinder and more loving to my mother. I wish you would have cared about yourself enough to get the help that you so desperately needed in order to be what you, I’m guessing, didn’t have in your own family. I wish that you wouldn’t have been so mentally ill. I wish that you wouldn’t have been so damaged by whatever happened to you. I wish that you would have been able to love our family the way we needed and deserved to be loved. I wish you would have thought that you were worth it to do the work you needed to on you and be better.

I wish you could see how happy I am now. I wish you could see how much work I’ve done to heal my wounds that you created. I wish you could see how beautiful and amazing my kids are and how good of a mother I am to them. I wish you could see the healthy, loving, constantly growing relationship that I am in with the person that acts as my partner in my life. I wish you could be happy for me. I wish you had cared when you were here or could have learned to care. And I saw glimpses of who you could be, but your demons were bigger than those glimpses, and I wish you could have found healing. I wish you wouldn’t have been so mean and so callous and let the past have so much control over you. I wish you hadn’t found solace in drugs. I wish you would have been stronger than that.

I wish things had been different. I wish things were different. 

But I am happy that I am not living out my past in my present. I’m thankful that I am making sure history doesn’t repeat itself. I am grateful to be a safe space and support to my kids and they will always know how proud I am of them and how much I love them. I will always admit when I am wrong and own any hurt I cause and make it right and do better. 

Thank you for teaching me what not to do and who not to be and to make sure I do everything I can to not leave this world unhappy and alone because of my choices.

I'm not as angry anymore at you but I'm still disappointed and I'm still hurt. I know you had your reasons for being the way that you were, but they were never excuses to remain the same or become worse.

I miss who you never were and who I hoped you could end up being and who I needed.

I've found contentment instead of resentment though.

And I'm really grateful that I had some kind of resilience that you did not because I would have ended up the same.

And I'm so glad I didn't and won't have that be my destiny.

I deserve better than that.

My kids deserve better than that.

My husband deserves better than that.

And I'm so glad I know that.

I will be what I needed to myself now. And that's the best I can do. And I'm glad I have the capacity to be it and do it, even if it's hard sometimes.

Happy Being the Parent You Always Deserved to Heal Your Inner Child Day to me instead.

I don't really know when it happened...

But somewhere along the lines, I think I lost a part of myself. 

Before the pandemic.

Before I had kids.

Before I got married.

Before my parents died.

Before I decided to call trauma, trauma.

Before the fighting and manipulation of my childhood.

Somewhere it happened.

Maybe a really long time ago.

I don't really know.

But the when part doesn't really matter. It only matters that it happened.

I've been having a really shitty time emotionally. And it peaked after the holidays this year. I mean PEAKED. I couldn't get out of bed some days. I felt like crap about myself. I've put on a ton of weight. I felt like writing a blog post about PTSD symptoms would help me help explain to myself that what I was going through was normal for what it was. I thought maybe it would allow for connection. I thought it would make me feel better. 

It didn't.

I've been in weekly therapy for the past several months. Going back and forth between seriously intense EMDR sessions about childhood trauma and talk therapy sessions where talk about how I feel like I am losing my mind and that I am not good enough for anyone in my life including myself. And then I try to logicize all of it with all of my book knowledge of psychology and experience as a therapist. But logicizing why it is happening, doesn't help my heart from feeling shattered and my self belief just continue to crumble. Because I do not want to let myself feel. One time during EMDR, my brain manifested a migraine as if to say -- leave her alone, she doesn't want to do it. But I keep pushing through because I desperately need those chapters from the past to close and not keep slipping out when I don't want them to anymore.

I told my therapist that I was thinking of taking my kids on a trip, or one of my kids on a trip. That I was feeling burnt out from Extreme Parenting: Pandemic Edition where you are your children's only social interaction for 400 million days. Understandable she says. Why not go by yourself, she asks.

Ew. No. I do not want to spend that much time with me and my thoughts thanks, but no thanks.

Maybe you should dig into that a little more.

I don't like me. Why would I want to spend time with me? Plus my children need me and how is it fair for me to go on a relaxing vacation when my husband is the one that works all the time.

Because you need to take care of yourself and you're busy taking care of other people all the time and doing the incredibly hard work of the chapter of therapy you are in. And you're grieving a lot. And you need to also be happy. So.

Eh. I don't know about this.

Fast forward to Saturday night insomnia of this past week and crying and telling Mike that I changed my mind and I am not going to go. No you have to go -- they'll still charge you for the hotel...AND you need to do this for yourself. 

Crafty husband telling the frugal part of me that I will now lose money if I don't go...so now I must. But meanwhile still feel guilty. Cue bursting into tears to say but it isn't fair to you. Yes it is. Stop. You're going.

Ugh. Fine. 

He gets home from work Sunday night. I leave to drive for Mystic, Connecticut. Children get emotional. I get emotional. I think about perhaps taking the children even though it's the last minute. 

I don't. I leave during crying chaos.

5 hours drive turns into almost 6 because of rain and my weakened pelvic floor from having the two children I left behind. I think several times that I am too anxious to drive this far away from home. And then I remember that I used to go places all the time by myself to meet up with other people all the time prior to 10 years ago so what is going on now? But what if something bad happens? Should I turn around? No. I will lose money if I turn around. Plus it is late and I am tired and maybe it will feel good to not share a bed with any people or animals. Maybe.

Fast forward to Monday morning. I did not sleep well. People are freaking loud and I am basically an old woman at 32 and would like some peace and quiet. I guess I'll wander to get breakfast and then start my itinerary.

I've never been to an actual restaurant alone. So I take a book. Find a breakfast spot. And sit down. Two middle aged women sit next to me, both look at me and whisper to each other. I continue to read my book but then get self conscious and then say to myself...why in the actual hell are you concerned about this right now? Who gives an actual eff what they are saying? And honestly it could be that they like your hair or something and don't think you're some weird lonely woman. And again, it doesn't matter!

Breakfast complete and I head into Olde Mystick Village. It is charming. I go to get donuts. I tell the cashier I can't decide between two of the donuts and ask her which one she prefers. She says their both good and why don't I just get both? I think, clever sales ploy but sure why not. She says, to be honest with you, that's how I am living my life lately. I am not stressing over decisions like, which donut should I get, I think I might like both and I get both. We're only here once.

You know what, yeah. Absolutely. I'll take both. And I contemplate. How much time do I spend stressing over decisions that ultimately have no bearing on my quality of life or dreams? A lot. A ton. Too much. Okay. I hear you universe in the voice of donut shop cashier. Later I buy some crystals at a shop. I've been into this lately and feel embarrassed when I first go in because, I don't know...I'm a straight laced Virgo? I've been intrigued. WHY AM I THINKING ABOUT WHAT OTHER PEOPLE THINK AGAIN? Who gives a flying eff? I like them. I think there's power in anything we give power to. I am allowed to feel this way. I buy them. I'm happy I did it. 

Later I head to historic downtown Mystic -- it's the definition of little New England coastal town. I go into Mystic Pizza. Fangirl at the pictures of Julia Roberts and think about how cool it is that the movie was actually filmed there. I ask for a table. "Are you waiting for more people?" No. Just me. Oh. Then you can sit at the bar. I feel slightly awkward. But a little less than I did at breakfast. The pizza is amazing. I buy a T-shirt from the movie. That was on my list. Check.

I think about the fact that I have a dinner reservation for 1 later at a relatively upscale place. Sigh. Is that going to be really awkward too? I don't know. I could take a book again. Would that be weird? I don't know. Walks around to more shops and the waterfront.

I go to the aquarium. I'm obsessed with the beluga whales. They're adorable. It is way too crowded everywhere else so I just leave.

I go back to the hotel to get ready for dinner. I'm going to do my hair and make up and wear a dress. Literally just for me. When is the last time I did this? My hair is in a messy bun so often I think my hairline is starting to recede. How even long is my hair anymore? Oh wow, there is no one here to interrupt me getting ready. It's too quiet. Turns on the TV for background noise. Oh my damn, I do know how to do make up and my hair is long and looks fab. Despite my fat face. SHUT THE EVERLOVING EFF UP WITH THE NON SELF LOVE, have you not been practicing grace for yourself and your current weight. Stop it. You'll get there.

Back downtown. Walk around more. Head into a cute shop where I know none of the clothes will fit but the accessories will be cute. The woman behind the counter is chatty. I haven't really chatted with anyone. I am also chatty. She asks me where I am from. 

Pennsylvania. 

Oh nice! I'm from Atlanta, my daughter lives there now, she's an influencer. I live here to be near my mom.

Oh cool. Slight internal eyeroll at daughter's profession being a social media influencer. It's a cute town. I'm here to have a mommy break since I've been solo with my kids since the start of the pandemic. And also just needed a little me time.

That. Is. AWESOME. That is such a good idea to do that. You need a break as a mom. You have to give up so much of yourself to parent.

Do I dare say what I really feel without fear of judgement? Sure. Why not? --  Right?? They do not tell you that part, and honestly, I love my kids but no one tells you that sometimes it is just shitty but everyone wants to act like it is all rainbows and butterflies and act appalled if you're honest that sometimes it sucks AND you still love your kids. That those things co-exist.

OMG THANK YOU FOR SAYING THAT YES! It is SO SHITTY sometimes. Why do we not support each other more in the fact that it is shitty?!? Being a mom is literally the worst sometimes and you lose yourself. And I have THE BEST KID. I love her to pieces. But oh my god sometimes it was the worst!

Phew. Metaphorically wipes brow of non existent sweat of honesty. Thank you for being willing to be honest too. We seriously need it more so we feel less crappy about ourselves when we aren't being perfect. It is a paradox. On another note, since I am surrounded by constant testosterone, I need this really pretty headband.

Omg yes you do. It looks awesome. By the way, your make up is fabulous. Do you do that yourself?

Yes. And thank you. I almost forgot I knew how to look like a woman and not just a mom in oversized t shirts and yoga pants. 

Enjoy and relax and do whatever you want while you can!

Fancy dinner time. Fan girl a bit because it's owned by a baking God in my opinion and purposely didn't go to the bakery on the first day because I want to take everything home.

I'm early for my reservation. It's cold. It's on the rooftop. Whatever. I'm here early. Oh that's totally fine. And sit at this long communal table with a firepit. I look around briefly and quickly. I'm the only lonely, except for some old dude at the bar. And guaranteed no one is saying...look at him all alone. If no one is saying that about him in my mind, why would they say it about me? I eat a fabulous meal. I have a lovely server. I drink a fabulous drink. I relax. I don't read. I just sit. And I just enjoy. And then I stroll the waterfront and sit and enjoy the birds and distant noises and watch the boats. And it is perfect. I am alone and happy and not feeling extraordinarily guilty. Oh, that's new.

At the urging of my waitress she tells me to message the owner on social media after I leave because his wife runs it and they're awesome and she'll more than likely get back to me. So I do. She's the literal sweetest. She tells me to stop in the next day to say a quick hi to her husband, and he'll do his best to pop in. Oh my gosh cool. I've been wanting to go for a while. I've been following their journey on social media and just found it inspiring. And I am surely on the hunt for inspiration in any way shape or form right now.

More shitty sleep because people are loud again. But I'm also anxiety-ridden again thinking about talking to someone that is so successful and that I idolize. Mike jokingly says, you're going to do that weird laugh you do when you're nervous and filling space. Then that's all I can think about. Being a weird fangirl and my awkward silence filling laugh.

I head to the bakery for breakfast. I feel awkward and ask the girl if he's there and that his wife said he would try to say hi. She says he's not. I feel slightly defeated and also more awkward. Well, whatever. It's fine. It wasn't meant to be. Also, I slipped malachite in my pocket that I bought the day before because of destiny and manifestation and whatever so I was like oh I guess this isn't it. I stock up on pastries anyway and buy breakfast to eat on the porch. I look around like a little kid in a candy shop...well I mean...I'm a kid at heart in a bake shop so it's really the same thing. I drop $50 on pastries and feel zero guilt about it because I am obsessed and the artistry is insane and it is everything I want to be capable of. But you know, they say not to meet your heroes because you'll be disappointed...so maybe this is for the better.

I go to the Mystic Seaport Museum. I meet an old boat captain that now does river tours. It's not crowded. We chat for a while. He lives on a boat and just travels around doing odd jobs. He's awesome. He asks me a lot about Amish people in Lancaster. I realize I am not as passionate about where I live as he is. And he's my second favorite person that I met on the trip. He refuses to use the microphone provided for the tour and just yells as loud as he can, which isn't very loud, over the boat engine to me and two other passengers about the history of the seaport. I leave that tour knowing small bits and pieces, and really just words, that I picked up over the engine about the port. Thank you Jeff. You were awesome and I hope your day is the best. Safe travels to you, Jackie. 

I walk through the old village. It's awesome. It touches something in my core. I think about writing again. Here we go again you indecisive person. You've had like 47 different jobs and passions and tried 84 different hobbies. And you're back to thinking about writing but you also want to open a bakery which is also intense. Make up your damn mind. Walks through an old house, stares at the hearth and listens to a woman talk about making a sponge cake over the fire and the recipes of old that say mix eggs, flour, and sugar and bake until done. I'm enchanted by the herbs that hang from the beams on the ceiling and the warmth of the fire and I think of the characters I've developed in my mind over the years. And suddenly, why don't you get both donuts? chimes in my mind while I'm staring at this kitchen. Because both things are hard. So shut your face about that. All things are hard and you like both so why do you have to give one up? Oh. Why not both donuts? I didn't have a good answer for why not get both donuts. I don't really have a good answer for why not both things. Why not bake and write? Because "it's hard" isn't good enough. Well, now I have more thinking to do and a lot less excuses.

It's weird if I go back. Like how stalker-y fangirl is it for me to go BACK to the bakery when he wasn't there this morning. It's really dumb. It's weird, right?

It is not weird Jackie. Just go. You'll be mad at yourself if you don't. And they seem really nice. Just go.

Okay. Who cares if it's weird? I won't be back and put myself in this situation again and they were just being nice and I'll buy a sandwich. I will buy a sandwich and a drink and then I'll ask. And they'll say no and I will just go home.

I will take the chicken salad croissant and I feel weird asking but I was talking to Adam's wife on Instagram and she said that I should tell you guys when I came in and he would try to come and say hi. And I totally understand if he's busy but it doesn't hurt to ask. And, what's butterfly lemonade? No, I'll just take a Hibiscus Mango Lemonade. Thanks so much and I really hope it isn't too much trouble. I see her talk to another barista and then she asks my name and says she'll go check. She calls. No answer. He is probably busy but am I planning to stay to eat? She'll try again. Sure. I'll sit and read my book but I am content that this isn't happening. I give them a big tip because I feel awkward again.

Jackie?

Just as I take a bite of my sandwich and respond with "Oh. My. God. Hi!" 

He thanks me for the kind message that I sent on Instagram and how much it meant to him. Tells me he is in the middle of working on his first cookbook and he's hoping to finish it up tonight to send to a publisher. I prepare myself for this to be it and quick but I'll ask one question. What would be the most encouraging bit of advice you could give someone that is standing right on the ledge but is too scared to step off? He says, you need to do what you want and not let other people steal your authenticity. There are ways that I could cut corners and make more money in this business but I don't want to. I want to stay authentic to scratch baking and quality ingredients and my vision and myself. He tells me more about the business and the cookbook and starting up and Food Network and friends with connections I might be inspired by. We talk about what is important in connection and the therapy that baking can be and how to have a loyal staff and my dreams for what I want to accomplish and our kids and the importance of family and time for yourself. I talk about how passionate I am about mental health and recovery and reducing the stigma and how I feel there has to be a way for me to connect everything. An hour and a half goes by and we take a picture and he thanks me, genuinely from the heart for the opportunity that we had to connect and talk, and I thank him from the bottom of my heart for the encouragement and direction. And I'm supposed to keep them posted on what I decide to do and what I accomplish. And I truly believe that they meant it and are invested.

And then I drove home.

And I haven't cried until right now. 

I don't know if the malachite in my pocket helped give me the placebo effect of manifesting my destiny or if the universe said it was my time to shine and learn and grow or if maybe I don't give myself the credit I deserve for making things happen.

But I do know these things:

I bought both donuts. Physically and metaphorically.

I spent time alone but still with me, and I am not as bad to hang out with as I thought.

I authentically connected with people with the realest version of myself.

And I found the pieces that were missing. 

And I'm not certain what exactly is next but goodness knows I now know the direction I am headed.

You're Allowed to Feel

Part 2 of the symptoms I experience personally from C-PTSD and how they look to others maybe.

 Today's Topic is emotional regulation.

I was raised in a house where this wasn't a thing. Grown ups were allowed to have big emotions, and not acknowledge them as such, and I was to remain quiet and compliant with whatever they were feeling and not be reactionary.

OR

If someone was acting out a big emotion -- i.e. my dad screaming and punching walls and calling me or whoever else names -- I was to not let this bother me and pretend as though I was unaffected and not allowed to react, partly out of fear and partly out of  wanting to not make things worse.

I'm sure there are other instances of this throughout my past but these are the biggest ones that seem to still resonate with me.

So what does this teach a person?

Well, to be simply terrified by the concept of anger.

Up until a few years ago, to be perfectly honest, I did not think that ever being angry was okay. Sure I would get angry -- but then immediately feel guilty and tell myself that I had no reason to be. 

I had a therapist once tell me, you realize that everyone gets angry, right Jackie? She told me that just the other day prior to our conversation she was frustrated with situations in her own life and had ripped up a phone book and strewn it all over her kitchen. Felt better, picked it up, and continued on -- not worrying about what others thought and feeling a bit more in control of her emotions.

I remember being shocked. For a moment I thought to myself -- should this lady be my therapist, or even a therapist at all? What is HEALTHY about anger? I don't know if this is for me. (Spoiler alert -- I stayed on with her for like 5 years) 

Nowadays -- I am very firm in my belief that anger is a secondary emotion -- a lot of my anger is tied to triggering moments and grief. And not having a healthy example of how to handle it in any of my most formative years. 

So if my son tells me that I am a mean mom for some normal kid reaction to not being able to do what he wants when he wants do -- as is normal for children -- I think my brain flashbacks to what my experiences of mean are, feel horrible that my child could think that I am that kind of mean, and either get upset and yell because I'm feeling triggered -- or honestly...give in to whatever it was that I was denying because I can't equate myself with mean.

Or if someone hurts my feelings -- I'll apologize for whatever I think I must have done to deserve my feelings being hurt in whatever capacity -- and the next day I'll show up at your house with spaghetti and a gift and telling you how wonderful you are because I too scared of being abandoned by people even if they hurt me. 

Kind of like when my dad would have completely explosive anger and then take us out to dinner like nothing had happened but still trying to keep the peace. Or he'd be abusive towards my mom the day before his birthday and I'd still be encouraged to make a cake and get a present and sing happy birthday. 

The lesson -- people can treat you however they want to and have whatever feelings they want to have around you and about you -- and you still show up and take care of them and praise them and act like all is well -- even if on the inside -- you're an incredibly scared mess.

Any time I had a moment of happiness -- my mom and dad would make sure to lay on the guilt. She was miserable and had sacrificed her entire being for my father. He was so unstable it was impossible for him to really feel happy for long. It turned into bitter jealousy for any friend I had or boy I liked or trip I decided to take or anything kind of good that happened.

 Don't feel happy.

When I got sad, and man did I eventually get extremely, horribly, scary sad, I wasn't allowed to feel that way either. What did I have to be sad about? Didn't I realize that people had it far worse than I did?

Yes. True. People had it worse. I didn't have it that bad maybe. 

Don't feel sad.

If I felt angry -- and if I got angry towards my dad for him manipulating and gaslighting and hurting my mom -- he would hurt my mom more. 

Don't feel angry.

So then wait...what feeling am I allowed to have?

All of them -- at the wrong time or the wrong time or too much or too little. 

Always concerned about what other people are thinking when I emote. At ALL.

Am I saying that there were never good moments or times that my parents were proud of me? I think they wanted to be. I think they wanted to be better. I think they wanted to be happy for me and proud of me. But I think they were too wrapped up in their own sadness for some reasons that I know and some that I will never know to really be there for me in the way that I needed. 

And  this is when people will say to me -- oh but one time your dad told me this and oh but your mom always said this.

That's great. 

I was also taught not to talk about what happened in my house and act like everything was fine.

I learned how to hide everything from the best of them for literally years.

I know they wanted to. But the more I have been remembering, the more I realize they didn't and couldn't. And it is devastating. 

My therapy and especially EMDR has helped me start to regulate my emotions and realize that things are okay to feel. And not only are they okay -- they're normal.

What isn't normal is not feeling. What isn't normal is letting people hurt you and still trying to please them so they don't abandon you. 

I know there have to be some people out there reading these things and rolling their eyes -- thinking -- seriously, you are 32 years old -- this stuff happened forever ago and you should be able to get your shit together by now and not be affected so much by it.

Maybe that's what some people think. 

That's what my brain tells me some people think.

But honestly, this stuff was still going on until my mom died almost 6 years ago. And before that, it was total enmeshment and ingrained into my life and how I functioned. 

And trauma changes the way your brain works. Scientifically true.

I'll get into the neuroscience of it all in another post.

Unfortunately, it's really hard work to break generational trauma. 

These days I just cry for what feels like no reason until I examine what's coming up and where it is coming from. Try to give myself space to feel sad. Cry for what I needed in those moments. Basically tell that little girl or younger version of myself in whatever scenario it is that it wasn't her fault and she shouldn't have been responsible to fix things. And breathe and continue processing in therapy weekly.

But I am so incredibly thankful that I am doing it so that my children won't bear the same deep scars my heart does. 

Healing hurts significantly. 

And it can be a lonely place sometimes. Especially because these relationships with my parents will never be healed with them. I can only heal myself.

But learning to give space to my emotions and allowing them, has really been freeing thus far. No more glossing over things. Just feeling raw emotions.

Deep Fear of Trust

 I've decided to start going through the symptoms of Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and how they present for me -- because I think it is important. Not only for me, but for others too. It isn't normal to feel these things, but there needs to be more open and transparent conversation about it because it is really lonely sometimes and can honestly make you feel like you  just might be crazy.

But you aren't crazy.

You're just hurting.

So the first one I am going to talk about is a deep fear of trust. 

When trauma is ongoing -- so growing up in an abusive household -- your brain gets rewired for distrust and fear -- so you are always kind of in survival mode. Fight or flight. Your brain actually adjusts to having high levels of cortisol (stress hormone) so you're always kind of on edge waiting for what is going to happen next. And when you can't trust significant people in your life -- i.e. caregivers -- who are to model behavior and relationships for you to mimic basically -- it makes it very difficult to trust anyone.

Hello Anxiety!

So for me -- my memories go way back -- probably as early as 4 and 5 -- to insecure situations.

My dad's moods were ALL OVER THE PLACE. One minute he would be playing and happy and fine and the next he was screaming and throwing things and just being volatile. 

But as soon as his outburst was over -- he'd take us out to dinner or the movies or to the park or whatever.

And you NEVER knew what was going to set him off or how escalated it would get. 

How can you trust any situation when no situation has ever been predictable? And how can you trust people that are also unpredictable? Especially when your little and they are supposed to be taking care of you, not scaring you.

And when I got older -- it was all about placating -- my mom called it "playing along" or "playing the game" -- you know he won't understand and he needs to be right so even when he is wrong, say he is right -- even if he hurts your feelings -- pretend that he doesn't.  You know you're right, smart, capable, not a bitch, not stupid, etc -- so just hold on to that.

So now -- 30 years later -- I still don't really trust people AND I feel like crap about myself because we internalize it. 

I don't trust people's intentions. I don't trust them when they are being nice. I don't trust how they feel about me. 

None of it. 

Which goes back to what I said previously on missing out on true connection with others. Even my husband. And sometimes my kids. Which is depressing. And I get so frustrated with myself.

But I literally can't help it. 

And I have to retrain myself to be able to trust without ever really knowing what it was in the first place.

And if the SMALLEST thing happens to break my trust that I attempt to build -- it is really hard for me to figure out what to do with that and to be perfectly honest it wrecks me emotionally.

It's really, really hard. And exhausting.

But if you look at the why -- it makes sense.

The Problem Is...

 Well, there are a lot of problems when you're dealing with C-PTSD, Anxiety, and Depression...

But to start, a reflection back to my last post about abandonment and self isolation...

The problem with when you feel like everyone is going to abandon you or has abandoned you, and then you end up isolating because you feel like your a burden -- is that you still feel like people have abandoned you even when you're causing it yourself.

I know. It doesn't even make sense when you try to write it out and explain it.

Fear of abandonment and lack of self worth almost means that you go ahead and just help people abandon you. And then you're sad that you're lonely. But then you're worried about trying to connect because you feel like you are too much or will say the wrong thing. 

And I am aware that I am doing it -- but I can't find love for myself enough to stop. And even beyond that -- I'm really scared of being hurt or not accepted. 

If I share too much, will it scare people away? Will people think I am the victim? Will they roll their eyes? Will they tell me I am dramatic? What if I don't focus enough on trying to help THEM? What if I don't listen enough? What if I say the wrong thing? What if I am too honest? What if I am not honest enough? What if I just go with something that is being said because I don't want to stir the pot? What if I stir the pot too much? What if people don't feel like I care about them if I talk about myself? Should I talk about myself at all? What do people think about me really? Are they just being nice?

There are probably a million more questions that go through my head but those are the biggest ones, at least when I actually try to focus in. 

It's really hard to trust anyone when you couldn't always trust the people that raised you.

And when you don't let yourself trust people, you miss out on the potential for connection.

So even people I have known for years, I don't feel like I can necessarily really truly talk to them or even try to connect with them anymore.

And it isn't their fault.

And it isn't my fault, really.

I am scared to do it, if I am perfectly honest. 

And it comes from a really deep place of pain and some really deep scars.

And I am so aware that it can sound kinda dumb.

And I am not at a place where I am over it and ready to test it out completely.

Someone in group therapy last week said that in a book she read one of the passages said something like -- there are already people out there that love you and you don't even know it yet.

And I think there are also people out there that probably love me too but I won't really let them.

Because I don't really love myself always or give myself enough grace sometimes. I just nitpick and get angry at myself for not being perfect and handling everything perfectly always.

Healing process to be continued....

Oh The Drama

I can't tell you how long I have felt that I am an overly dramatic person. 

My therapist even told me this week -- almost every time you go to talk about your feelings, you start with "I know I sound dramatic; or this probably sounds dramatic; or I know I am being dramatic."

Her response was -- Jackie, from what I am hearing, you're not being dramatic -- you're having feelings and your feelings are very valid and you are human.

To be perfectly honest, I met that with an eye roll, like okay but basically I'm paying you to tell me I'm not crazy so mmmk 👍 (Truly not what therapy is, but I hardly trust anyone, so from that perspective, it makes sense)

But I'm on this really intense healing journey so after I eye roll, I try to be introspective.

Is it possible that I am not crazy? Is it possible that I am just feeling things that are valid to me?

I very easily feel left out. The bigger word for that is abandoned. The bigger word feels dramatic to me. It feels gross actually. So I will immediately tell myself -- why on Earth do you feel abandoned? No one ever left you alone for days at a time as a kid or something. Knock it off you overdramatic psycho.

I am a professional at minimizing my own feelings.

If I let myself look deeper, it's because somehow, I have internalized that if I feel left out or excluded from something, I immediately feel like it is because I am not good enough. There must be something wrong with me. I must have done something horrible to be left out. I must be actually the worst. Maybe I'm not a good person. Maybe I said the wrong thing. Maybe this. Maybe that. And then I am left feeling awful about myself. 

I have genuinely thought in the past that people get together and say "Let's tell Jackie she's a good person and she's funny and kind, even though she isn't, but she's so fragile, if we don't, she'll self implode" I've thought that about my friends and my family, because how could they possibly actually love me for me or even like me for that matter, when I feel so very inadequate.

I am extremely aware of how messed up that is -- and yet -- my brain will go there sometimes. It isn't realistic in any realm.

All of that thinking leads to me feeling like a burden -- and who the heck wants to be close to someone who is a burden? I feel guilty for having been at my lowest with people because I didn't know what to do with my feelings. Sometimes they came out as tears. Sometimes they came out as anger. Sometimes I just overinvested myself in other people's problems so I didn't have to think about mine, since I didn't know what to do with my feelings. 

So, internally, I decide -- well then, I'm just not going to talk about my feelings or problems with anyone anymore because no one wants to know or cares (it's super extremist thinking that is for absolutely certain not self pity, because I think it can sound like that, it is actually being overly considerate of others at the detriment of yourself)

So what does that lead to? Isolation and feeling lonely. I, by no means, feel sorry for myself while I am doing this by the way -- I literally feel like I am sparing other people of my "drama", so I deserve to be alone. I just feel sad that I am too much, and if I wasn't too much, then I could have connections with people. But I am. So I can't.

Where does all of this come from?

Well -- that's a good question. 

As far back as I can go in my memories, I never felt good enough. I had to care for a mother with complicated health issues, sometimes alone, as early as 5 years old. I had a very mentally ill father for as long as I can remember that didn't necessarily feel as though he needed to be responsible for me in the way that an adult parent should. And he was pretty abusive and manipulative because of those things. There's a lot to unpack there, but I don't want to go into anymore detail at the moment. I had a lot of responsibilities that I for sure wasn't going to be able to handle as a child, and it became the overarching theme of my life called "You're not good enough and never will be" -- and it was unrealistic for me to BE good enough at these things to begin with. I was a kid.

I glossed over this stuff for a very long time. With "yeah but" and "at least ____________ didn't happen". But none of it was okay. 

There was so very much that was not okay. Even beyond the moments where I just didn't feel good enough.

The last thing I want to believe about myself is that I am an overdramatic and negative person.

But the fact of the matter is, I am just really sad. And a lot of things happened to make me feel that way. And I don't always know what to do with my feelings because I was never given safe space for them. 

Somewhere underneath all of this junk, at my very core, I do think I am a good person and have a kind heart -- and I try to my best to live that out in so many ways.

But other days, it's really hard to believe it and not just thinking I am delusional in feeling good about myself. 

It sucks sometimes. Positively hurts.

But this is the path to healing.