A Goodbye Letter to Anger

 "We have all made mistakes and wondered how we got wherever we go, why we chose what we chose, and why we didn't change it sooner. It's easy to be angry at ourselves and other people, but that anger keeps us stuck. Our lives truly go in the direction our mind goes, our thoughts are constantly creating future experiences." Journal Entry - January 2018

I have been angry at Sabrina for over a year now. I journaled about it on Christmas Day, all the same things I say now about why I'm angry. I know why I'm angry, even my therapist told me that. She also encouraged me to write a letter to that anger and say goodbye. Here goes...

Dear anger,

I almost capitalized you, but I stopped. I backspaced and decided that was the first step in saying goodbye - not giving you so much power. I don't know when you came into my life. It's felt like you've always been there. I've often speculated you came from my father. I took the dog for a walk last night, and when my mind would wonder and my attention would focus on negative things or replaying conversations, thoughts, fears, etc. that didn't serve me, I would thank my body for being so strong and I would think about the things in my life and about myself that I love, and I felt lighter.

I know why I've been mad at Sabrina. I know why I've been mad at myself. But it truly doesn't serve me to hang onto that. I'm sure there is a useful time for you, but it should be transient. You shouldn't hang around and continue to cause chaos and upset. I love my wife. We've chosen to work on ourselves and our marriage. She's not been mad at me for a long time, but she's waiting on me to not be mad at me or her. I really don't have space in my life or marriage for you anymore. If there's two of you - a more chronic, carried, acquired anger that may not have even been mine to begin with and a more acute version of you, I'm going to need both of you to leave. I am surrounded by people in my life who love and support me for being exactly who I am. People who would love me through growth spurts and hard times. I asked the Universe a long time ago to please partner me with someone who helps me be the best version of myself, and she does that. That process isn't always pretty, but it's worth it, and I asked for this. There are way more joyful pieces to my life then there are pieces that cause me pain. I'm sure there is a time and place for you, but I don't think it's here, now. I really don't need you anymore, especially in this situation. I've chosen to forgive her and myself. 

I want to move on with my life. I'd like to smile more, relax my furrowed brown more, ruminate less, talk less about things that don't need to be talked about, ride my bike more, walk more, live in joy more. I don't want to be mad for the sake of being mad. Things happen. Acceptance is they key to all my problems today. If I could learn to give myself more time to do the things I need and want to do and a little more grace, I would be less anxious and angry.  I'm ready for that, too. Thank you for being part of my story, I'm sure you had a purpose at some point. Please be free.

Dottie

I'm Psychic but Not Immune to Life

"You will destroy yourself to make other people feel better." - My Therapist

At the end of the day, I'm mad at myself for being here. In this place where I don't recognize the person in the mirror, ashamed and angry with the choices I've made and the sacrifices I've chosen along with those choices. I want to be mad at my partner, but I'm mostly mad at my self.

I am angry bc I feel like I should have known better. I should have been able to change the course of this. God knows I fucking tried. I knew, between that 5th and 6th year we would come to a turning point in our relationship and the outcome wasn't certain. I knew it would be related to her feeling resentful bc she hadn't spoken up for herself or voiced her needs or wants and she would wake up one day and be mad as hell at me for it. And she did, she was, and here we are. I tried for years to stop it. I tried to tell her this was coming, and tried to get her to speak up and change this daunting forecast, but she couldn't. We couldn't. In hindsight, I suppose all the pieces weren't where they needed to be. I've lost myself in this. Like a frog in a slow boiling pot - I didn't realize where I was until it was too late to draw back with ease. I was fucked. I felt fucked anyway. I remember talking to my PCP a few months after she blew our fucking lives apart and I spoke openly about how I just wanted to not hate her when all this was over. I wanted to be okay when she figured out her shit. I knew I this is where I would be, and it was scary, so I exhausted myself to not be here - yet here I am - I'm angry. I did this work already. I didn't want to do it again. At this point in my life I just wanted to be enjoying my family, love myself, and working on my career and life path. I was doing exactly that until she hit me like a train with how she wasn't happy. My security, joy, excitement, confidence, etc was blown out like a candle before midnight. I was suddenly filled with fear and confusion.

A few days ago a question came to me as I thought about this dark place I was in just recently, and silently blamed her for taking me there. I was reminded of all those times I had said in my life I believed I had went through hell to help show others the way out. I was asked that even if I had known where I would end up - lost and alone, in a darkness I equate to new sobriety while she sat on the other side... free - would I have consciously chosen to do this? My answer was yes. Of course I would have. There's nothing I wouldn't do for her. I have climbed out of worse places, and I think I ultimately did choose this. I ran back into a metaphorical burning building to get her, risking everything I was, because I didn't want to do this life without her. Because I refused to leave her there to suffer alone. But I don't think she gets that. In her book, I don't quite meet the mark because I appear aloof and unreliable - too much like her mom. I don't feel I get credit for the real deep shit that I do on emotional and spiritual levels for her, myself, and us as a team. I equate it to Robin William's What Dreams May Come. He sacrificed everything, was terrified, but searched literal hell for the women he loved, even though, he knew she wouldn't know him when he got there.

Me replaying life events and feeling like I should have been able to stop something, or I should have known how or been able to do better, has been a recurring theme that creates a lot of internalized anger. I get mad and punish myself for not knowing better, for falling victim to the world, to love, and to fear. I came to the conclusion that my psychic abilities will not allow me to avoid or change fated life experiences. I'm going to type that again. My psychic abilities will not allow me to avoid or change fated life experiences. I am not responsible for these events just because I saw them coming. I am not responsible for fixing or preventing them just because I knew they were coming and when. Under the anger, there is a truth and understanding that I was meant to go through this, I was meant ot be here again within the confines of a committed relationship. It was just as much a part of my path as it was hers. I had to find my internal boundaries. Until I am able to know and stick to those internal boundaries and not feel guilt or shame about that, I believe I will carry more weight than what is considered normal and healthy. Sitting is uncomfortable to me. Tying my shoes feels like a chore. Getting out of bed in the morning makes me sad because of how slow and painful my body feels. How did I get here? How did I allow myself to get here? Shouldn't I have known better? No.

I will come out of this a better person - more balanced, confident, lighter, clearer, happier. I really want to quit real-estate. I want to release the anger I am harboring towards myself. I want to forgive myself and move on.

A Tribute to My Mother

I arrived in Atlanta Wednesday night for at a four day training. As I was in the back of the taxi for the 35 minute ride from the airport to Buckhead I thought about my Mother. My father too, for that matter, but this isn't about him. I remembered coming here in third grade to my first and only Atlanta Braves baseball game back when I wanted to be the first female Atlanta Brave baseball player. It's funny, you can laugh. I thought about vacations, her laugh, how she was always trying to give me and my brother everything we wanted. She always loved those big grand gestures. I thought about all the good and fun things she did. 

I have not always been so quick to think or talk about the good things. 

My Mother loved me. She loved me and my brother unconditionally - there is no but. She took care of us and nurtured us in the ways she knew how - she gave us any and everything we wanted, she fought for full custody to keep us safe, she supported and encouraged us, she always told me how beautiful and capable I was, and how proud of me she was. We never left the house without hearing her say, "love you." It was obvious she believed in me and wanted me to believe in me. She is probably the reason I feel I can achieve any goal. My mother always made me feel strong and worthy. More than anything, she wanted me to be happy. And if she couldn't give that to me, she stepped out of the way of the person that could. I think that takes an enormous amount of strength.

She also loved to buy and gift the big and extravagant things especially for her grandkids. I'm pretty sure she's bought 80% of the big toys we have outside - the trampoline, the bikes, the swing set, the hoverboard, Adelynne's kayak, lol. A sandbox once! It seems like all the things. She'd show up. If I needed her, she was there. If she couldn't be there in person, she was on the phone. I never felt unloved. Not once. Not even when I was a teenager, and I was not an easy teenager. I was stubborn, rebellious, angry, and wounded. But she loved me every step of the way. I never doubted if she would be there if I wanted or asked her to be there. And when better life opportunities came, she let me go despite her own personal pain. When I left for Michigan in 2005, I never came back. She cried every time I left. As I grew and changed over the years, she still loved and accepted me just the same, even though, she didn't always understand. One of the last conversations I had with her, within a few weeks of her death, I called to tell her grateful I was for the unconditional love she had given me all these years - I thanked her for that amazing, unwavering, unconditional love. Her response was, "Make sure to give that to your girls, Babygirl." 

I miss her. I woke up two days ago and for just a couple seconds I wanted to call her, forgetting that I couldn't anymore. So, I listened to her voicemails where she called to ask about my new job, another if Bexley had been born yet and if she could come see "her four girls", one pretending she was looking for a house, and another saying she was out of the hospital. It's a double edged sword to hear her voice. I hope she hears mine now. The grief is still stuck in my body -my shoulders, my diaphragm... my heart. And even though I can hear her say, "It's okay, Babygirl, don't cry," the tears still come. My world has not been the same since she left. 

I love you, Momma, I always have, and I miss you. I wanted to come see you just before you died, but I was so scared. Scared of many things, that many people will never understand. I hope you do though; I hope you understand. I was there in spirit. I closed my eyes and imagined holding your hand and holding space for you. I worked tirelessly behind the scenes with your healthcare team ensuring you were comfortable and at peace; I was there. My heart, my Spirit, my thoughts were all there. I really, really hope you felt that. I'm grateful for you and this life that you brought me into.