Reflections on Food, Family, & Mother's Day

I don't know or which event in the last 3 years began the disintegration of my sense of self, but it happened. 

I have begun the process of rebuilding myself. I guess I thought that only happened once in your life. Apparently, I was wrong. I have come to the conclusion that that must be atleast 3 levels of healing our traumas. One when we're single and can deal with the most obvious and step in into the unknown abyss that is finding yourself with minimal collateral damage. Which is absolutely petrifying by the way. Then again when we are coupled with our life partner and they stand in front of us reflecting back all the parts we missed. There is safety in that relationship, but also real risk of hurting that person and having to walk back through the trauma you caused while working through that shit you missed. Then kids... the fucking kids come and we are brought back to our earliest and deepest origination of our traumas to figure out what we are passing on and what we are not. 

At-least this is how it was for me.

I'm sitting at my kitchen table drinking coffee with an open laptop screen in front of me backdropped with calilily flowers and a large open living room window. I can hear PJ masks playing above me in the loft while my wife sleeps, and I breathe in deep gratitude for having these string of moments right now. I dose fear with faith that I will get all the time I need today. Typing this helps bring me back to the present.

It's almost Mother's Day - the one year anniversary of my Mother's death, and, naturally, I've thought about her a lot. My intention is to feel those feelings, send love and gratitude for her life and mine, and forgive myself if any guilt or resentments still linger. That feels easier to talk about than what is really on the forefront of my mind...I have used food as a coping mechanism for years and years. It boils down to feeling safe in the world and within myself. It boils down to honoring my desires, wants, and needs. It boils down to loving myself exactly as I am wherever I am, forgiving myself along the way, and not concern myself with the judgements, thoughts, or opinions of people that I don't directly effect in my life. My wife and my kids are the most important people to me in the world. I worry about them all the time - their wellbeing, their safety, their happiness, their basic needs of food, water, and emotional comfort. I'm tearing up writing this. There is a part of me that is so fierce and protective that I think I eat to quiet that down before the world deems me a psycho because I jumped some bitch in the parking lot because her kid talk shit about mine's ponytail in gym last week. But is that because no one ever did that for me? Because I felt safe so infrequently, that I've subconsciously made it my life's mission to make them feel safe at all costs. I'd rather them feel smothered and annoyed by my constant conversation about feelings, drinking water, or taking up and speaking up for themselves than feel scared or unheard at home. Insert covid, custody court, Adelynne starting 1st grade, and Bexley being born.... I just thought about when my Mother lived here and how she would come and get Adelynne off the bus some days for us, take her for ice cream, or play card games with her. Memories that bring tears of joy. Then I remember how I would sometimes interfere with that - tell Mom she didn't need ice cream or catch Adelynne cheating at the card game and tell her she couldn't play anymore. I catch myself wishing I would have been better or done more Mom while she was here - this is one of those moments where I find gratitude for the time she was here and ask for forgiveness for my shortcomings, and let that feeling move through me. 

This time of reflection seems to be wrapping up. PJ Masks isn't nearly as interesting as it was half hour ago, and I don't know how long this singular matching game will hold back the toddler attention threshold. 

I was guided today to list 10 things I am grateful for today: 1) this time I had to reflect and my willingness to take it. 2) The new moon today and the 11:11 I just saw on the stove. 3) Being able to ease into my Saturday. 4) 50 degree weather. 5) Taking a walk this morning. 6) My meetings w/ Emily. 7) My marriage getting through a really rough patch better than it was before. 8) Not having to buy a house in this market. 9) Have a pool and room to enjoy it. 10) Being on a real-estate team. 

With Grace & Gratitude...

A Life Without Trauma

Who would we be without our traumas? How would we move about in life and relationships if we didn't carry around the past? What would life be like if we were able to forgive, forget, be in the moment, and allow people to naturally enter and exit our lives without judgement? 

If my Mother's death taught me anything, it taught me the lesson that life is short. She wasn't happy. She spent the majority of her life wanting to be loved in a way she probably couldn't describe or even accept if it had found her. I've spent the majority of mine being anxious, self-medicating, and endlessly striving for perfection. I've spent at least half of it sifting through my traumas and dramas of my life, looking for the antidote to all this anxiety and self-medicating desire. I often feel like a failure. My personal, daily expectations of myself are unrealistic. The bar I hold for myself is so high, rarely do I touch it, and when I do I assume it's because it was too low so I raise it. I'm constantly seeking self-improvement. 

On the other hand, I have had so many amazing, beautiful souls in my life that entered unexpectedly and showed me true love, acceptance, forgiveness, grace, beauty, kindness, etc. The family dynamic I want to create is not one I've ever seen within my own. 

Who would I be without my traumas? My story? What would my life be like if I fully embraced everything about myself and where I was at any given moment? I bet I'd feel fucking free. The runes of the last 6 months have continued to tell me that I am at a standstill, that no successful movement will be made over the winter, and that I would eventually realize that the "patient on the operating table was myself." It was. Would it be such a horrible thing to slowly fade out of the family I was born into? Is it the end of the world to feel as if I'm alone, but safe and loved. 

Fear. It's Always Been Fear

 I'm amazed at the confidence and body positivity these highs school girls seem to have now. I didn't have that then. Shit, I don't have it now. I'm admire how they rock their leggings, jeans, and shorts with their high-tied up shirts without fear or apologies no matter what their body type. My generation - we are still recovering from the Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie era of jeans so low that only a size 0 looked decent in them, and that was questionable. 

    I've spent all of my life allowing my weight to determine my self worth. I have spent the last several years feeling like a failure. Like, I got "there" then let it all go. I've been beating myself up for a long time mentally, emotionally, and physically bc I failed. I failed to keep losing weight. I failed to stay in those size 16 pants. Ultimately, I felt like I had failed myself. I wondered who would listen to my advice or take me seriously if I was overweight. How would my children and spouse see me if I was overweight? I have allowed my weight to keep me small because I was so afraid of being big. One of my first memories of fear as a child was my fear of being fat. I was afraid of my weight preventing me from walking, finding clothes, or finding a partner.

    The truth is, we all have coping mechanisms. Eating and extra weight are just way harder to hide. I think all along it's been fear. For a moment, I thought I had it handled - beat. Then insert my first serious, committed relationship and moving in with that person who was insecure, often cruel, and regularly manipulative - and the fear came back. I wasn't safe emotionally. I wasn't happy, and I was afraid she knew it. How would my habits change being almost 2 hours from my gym and yoga studio?! 30 lbs seem to magically fade away as that relationship began to fade out. Then insert fears of losing myself, again, fear of the future, fear of letting this new person and/or her tiny person down. Was I ready to be a parent? Could I be what this little girl needed and not what my parents were? Fast forward to a year after I gave birth to Bexley. I found myself suffocating in more fear than I had known in my adult life. Fear that had been compiling since they day she was born - fear of the unknown and a brand-new tiny baby, my Mother living close, my marriage struggling, career change, being a SAHM while starting said career, covid, talks of divorce, and depression - the lowest I had felt since early sobriety. I ate more nutty buddies last fall than I've probably eaten in the last 10 years. And I didn't care. Sitting here now, I can recognize all the fear I just kept swallowing in hopes it would disappear. But it didn't. I'm here now because the medicine stopped working, and when the medicine stops working we have no choice but to sit with the pain. Food was my first drug of choice. Few, if any, would notice if my liver or kidney's were struggling from drinking. No one would ever know if I was numbing out to video games or using sex or tv to ignore the fear raging inside me. If shopping or gambling was my go-to coping mechanism, I could hide that much better. But food, we all know when someone uses food to feel better. I've gained 30 lbs since November, and I'm convinced everyone knows. I have been afraid of my life completely falling apart the last 2 years. I've been afraid of big things and little things - catastrophe's to simply misspoken words.

    I took a long look at my body. Specifically those areas I carry extra weight and asked what was under there. I felt anger. I sat with that anger until it revealed the names of guilt and shame, and then I wallowed there until I finally discovered fear had birthed them all.

    Fear is a choice. If fear is the opposite of love, and they cannot coexist at any given time we are choosing to live in fear or love. 10 years ago my mantra was "choose love." Somewhere I lost sight of that and myself. If I feel anything right now it's peace. My weight cannot determine my self worth, what I deserve, or who I am. My fear of food or being overweight will weight more heavily on my body and heart than any dessert or pizza every will. It's not about body positivity, it's about a deeper self-positivity - thinking and saying things to ourselves that are helpful, loving, and encouraging. 

With grace & gratitude...

2021 in Review

 Looking back on 2021, then and now, I would say it was one of the hardest years of my adult life, but all things that will make me and my family stronger and better in the long term - my 13 travel nursing contract, my Mother's death, Adelynne's broken arm, covid x2, moving business offices, taking craniosacral I &II, Uncle Denny's death - all things that make me go how the hell did we get through all this?! But we always do. We traveled a lot this year - Chicago twice on a train, east coast (which I am really missing right about now), SC and GA with "the neighbors", then I went back to GA myself for training - those parts have been joyous to reflect on. There have been lots of laughs, growth, and love this year.

My hair is longer, my weight is higher, but I'm happier than I've been in a long time. I've been on stimulants for over a year and I think they've effected my mood and disposition more than I've wanted to admit. They are also probably part of the reason I am gaining weight right now. I'm releasing that fear every time it comes up. Sabrina and I have fought more this year than we ever have. There were times when I think we both weren't sure if we were going to make it to 2022 together. But we did. I spent a couple months in a pretty deep depression, probably pioneered from my moldavite I wore to the east coast (that was not the best idea I've ever had!) But I've been humbled, I've been made softer, and I've been enlightened to things about myself and others that I had struggled to see. My family's happiness and well-being is important to me, so is my own. I cannot pour from am empty cup, and I am re-embracing that truth and standing strong in it. 

This next year, 2022, will be a personal 3 year for me. 3 years are about creativity, self-expression, and taking care of ourselves. I need this. Habits I'd really like to create in the new year are being 5 minutes early to places/appointments/etc., walking more to Mallory's and the office, being more loving and kind with my words and conversations with Sabrina. I'd also like to honor my commitments and develop a routine that honors myself, my family, and my work. Spiritually, I'd like to be more grounded and more intuitive. Yoga, Gym, walking, sauna, and nourishing foods. 

We intend to have Bexley in daycare 3 days a week. I'm not sure on they days, I'm still feeling that out. I'm looking forward to the new year, I'm full of confidence, hope, and joy. I'm proud of my family and want them all to continue to grow and find joy in their daily life. I want all good things this year for everyone - friends, family, and strangers alike. 

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.