November Nuts

Now get your head out of the gutter, this November so far has been nuts!

*Cancer Update: the ex is not positive with cancer, in fact, he sprung that adult information on the kids before his biopsy, even before knowing his prognosis! He decided that sending them all into a fretful, weekend long tangent over a possibility was okay in his book. I guess in his mind’s eye, at least they were thinking about him for a while. I was left, as usual, to pick up all the pieces he made fly everywhere. I had to comfort sorrowful, scared kids for days before hearing him nonchalantly exclaim over the phone speaker, “I don’t have cancer. You guys, I’m going to keep living. Too bad, huh?” That made most of them form a solid ball of fury in their guts and confused the little ones greatly. “Why would dad say that? ” “I don’t want him to die, does he think I do?” Why does he have to leave a wake wherever he goes???
I told him that if he has important information like that again, please come to me first so we can approach the children in a manner that is helpful, not destructive. There is a difference between sharing information and overloading a child with adult worries. He didn’t see what he did as wrong in any way…
I’m dealing with something entirely void of reality sometimes, I swear. Denial in my parents and ex-husband is so very obvious, now. How didn’t I see it before? End of update*

I’ve endured the worry of this pandemic’s reach, doing what most refuse to do; not work in the public and not receive an income of any sort. We’re living off of my savings. I have no idea how it’s gotten this far. I’m not someone who really has a choice, either, I’m just making it for us. I have to. I cannot pay for my mortgage. What happens happens. I have to accept it. I cannot pay for our electric, nor gas, water and sewer. These bills are piling up, seven months now… I just have no income, I freeload. I must! I’m responsible with usage, we aren’t just running lights and being flamboyant about this. I have integrity still, somehow. My children need a healthy parent to raise them. If I succumb and need hospitalization, my children will need support. If I am taken from this life by this virus my children become wards of the state. I’m essential at home. The government is able to assist with food support. Whew!

We’re in a hotspot for Covid19, now. The schools are shutting down again, our therapy has ended all face-to-face sessions. Our dentist takes this seriously, we have to call before and only one person is allowed at a time, unless there’s a disability. Our family clinic also makes you call to check in and wait until ready for appointments. Why would I not take this seriously??

We have the whole winter ahead of us like this. It appears we have no letup in sight. This is real. We are doing this.

Shutdown is in session.

Shutdown in the body feels like the most lonely place. I feel I have zero options, that I’m trapped in this situation, feeling unimportant, sometimes criticized, and like I don’t matter and don’t belong.

The thing about shutdown in the body is it cannot be restrained for long. At some point there will be a building up of feelings for release that grow so great that anger and rage burst inside like a fireball. Change will have to come, and the only way to get out of Shutdown is to rise up to Fight or Flight. In Fight mode I may create a strategy to change my circumstances, dream up a plan, do something rash or dangerous, run away (Flight, but to where??), or get furious with those around me and destroy my situation completely. It will take some time, but it’s coming. I’m working to make my art, write my book(s), and regulate my emotions through therapy and self work. I did a piece on Integration Parts Work on Youtube if you’re interested. Basically I’m making an online presence while cramming to figure out a way to make an income without working in the public, placing my family in danger for a hideous slip of paper (money).

I spent a lovely summer in the sunshine, longboarding, swimming, and camping while eating in the setting sunlight, amongst the butterflies, bees and birds. We adopted a rescue dog who’s changed our lives. And we’ve created more art in one summer than I think I’ve created in my lifetime. My twin girls have become incredible artists just by watching Youtube videos! Yes, I ran out of what I could teach and they had to search elsewhere. OMG the things they make. The 8 year old is cranking out work I put out in high school, not kidding. Evolution in the making! Unschooling is amazing. I’m thinking we could possibly open a store simply selling their work, it’s soo good.

Some of the overpowering feelings I’ve been succumbing to have been disabling. I feel stuck in Shutdown, like a cage is being lowered over me. Realizing I’m just a passenger in this flesh suit feels right, yet out of this world. The pangs of realness overwhelming me, like the old depression feels back in 2015, like ripples in a puddle after you spit in it , and it keeps welling up within. Is there memory trapped in this time of year? Yes, many… Trauma? Indeed there is. In order to move through it though, I must feel it and face it. It’s so challenging. I wasn’t taught how to feel, I was taught how to distract, pack down, and stuff. I wasn’t taught resolution through emotions, only through speech. My will to live at times gets questioned with “Why bother? What’s the use?” The simplicity of life, yet the complexity of it baffles me. The thought of moving though another week like the last sends me into a fit of panic. Again, I see the wrong and the right, hot and cold, wet and dry… It seems I can’t get past something I can’t see, yet.

Sleep has been rough, too –and that’s something. I’m a good sleeper. I love sleep. I could fall asleep within 4 minutes, usually. Yet, my sleep, like during childhood, is fitful, my blankets far too hot, the room far too cold, a pressing appointment in the morning, hurry up and wake up, it’s almost time! And when I wake it’s 2am, 5 am… the sky is black, the room dark, the bed cozy. Why can’t I sleep through a night? I’d say nothing if I weren’t exhausted through the day.

Staving off friends who wish me to return to Jesus has been a challenge these past weeks, too. Why do they insist I miss him? Why do they insist I’ll turn back? That my acceptance back then was enough and he’ll save me… gross!!! I just don’t find this mindset encouraging. It’s like a weighted blanket soaked in cold piss to me, tossed on my head. I’ve been scarred by religion, the trauma is completely real and time will help heal my knee-jerk reactions, although logic will stave off my need to return to elementary stories to save myself from myself (cus that’s what religion is aiming to do, besides bring home the mother load of offerings). I’ve had to ask them to refrain from preaching at me because arguing one’s belief is oppressive and odd. We each get one, don’t try to make me have yours, I’ve already got mine.

Been thinking about my mother some, and how she hasn’t had the knowledge I have had the opportunity to learn.. If she knew the things about her body like I now do, she’d be able to finally understand what’s going on inside of her. She’d know she was normal for feeling scared; she’s been in survival. How could I expect her to recognize the abuse she’s enduring from her toxic husband when she overlooked the abuse he unloaded onto me? I have been expecting the impossible from her; she simply cannot comprehend the darkness she willingly is enveloped in, constantly. Living at home was dark. How could I expect her to understand light? She’s never even had a full week of freedom and carefree joy in her whole life. She’s always been surrounded, grew up in chaos and abuse, she never had a spread of time alone to feel the silence and soak it in, to not cringe or flinch. A break from her husband to breathe air not fouled by his intestinal decay. She needs something far greater than a trip to Walmart in town, alone –she needs the lakeside, a fire, a big window, and a soft couch with a pen and journal. She needs her studio apartment on the shore; a beaded curtain into her living room. She needs a soft blanket, a beagle beside her and a pottery mug of hot coffee in hand. She’s been so busy surviving, she’s lost track of time. She’s 70 now. Things have gone awry. How will she ever unravel what’s been let out? She believes I’ve burned all my bridges, but she’s pulled all hers in years ago; back when she was a child, even. She’s never let me cross that bridge, not once.

Having a mother wound hurts constantly. My own mother had one. Her mother didn’t give the affection, attention and emotion she needed, either… her mother let her father abuse, she even stayed with him –and took my mother to the train station so she could “run away” from home! What does that tell me? It tells me my mother felt about her mother the same way I feel about her; Why didn’t you stand up for me? Why did you betray my trust? Why weren’t you there for me when it was scary? Why were you so void of affection? Why didn’t you comfort me when I was hurting, why did you match my pain instead of showing me how to calm? Why did you let your fear of what your dad thinks of you dictate your marriage to a man you knew was trash? I spent a full 8 months recognizing a narcissist abuser; my poor mom hasn’t recognized hers, and she’s even aligned with him.
I feel awful about her missing out on her grandchildren… that’s simply painful to imagine. Unfortunately, she placed a wedge so great between them and herself by trying to force them to side against their own mother. She blew a big hole in her side there. I wish there were a way to remedy all this, it’s going to be another year with her OFP. I know that if I tried speaking to her she’d trigger me and I’d be blowing my top in seconds flat. I have tried for years to open her up and crack that smile, get her to play with me and enjoy life… since I was a little girl I have been trying to win her over, but I couldn’t. She wasn’t satisfied, it’s really no wonder I chose a mate who’d never satiate, as well.

If we can’t get over the trauma we experienced in childhood, we bring it into our relationships.

We’ll keep trying to figure out what didn’t work in our parents’ relationships, or in the relationships we had with them; we’ll keep choosing people who are familiar (because we tend to be drawn to what feels like “home”) and those people have the same dysfunctions as our parents did. Either we figure it out, or we stuff and deny and live in dis-ease.

I don’t want that for me. I don’t want that for my future family, either.

I’ve recognized the lesson, I know what the meaning was: when you overlook toxic behaviors in loved ones close to you, you soon have the behaviors; kind of the same as one bad apple spoils the whole barrel full. If you live with a bully and you’re bullied, you are going to accept that behavior and exhibit it in time, no matter how much you deny that you do. And bringing a child into it, raising your child(ren) to witness and accept that behavior as “normal” is to damn a child to suffering throughout adolescence and even adulthood; that’s how our elders have done it. See, in survival the human will need to be instant, hear all, see all, and be at the ready. Anything that places what he/she loves and values in danger is the enemy. Anything their loved ones do that raises attention should be stopped immediately to keep away predators. I get it! But, we’re no longer on the Serengeti! So, we don’t have to slap our kids to quiet down, we have time to talk to them, there aren’t predators lurking to snatch our baby away. We have time now, we have our needs covered for the most part. We don’t need to react like prey any more. We don’t have to react to stimuli as if the world were ending, because our inner programming tells us that’s what’s going to happen. We can listen to our bodies for signals, we are highly attuned beings riding in highly advanced technology.

These machines (our bodies) know what they’re doing. They send us warning lights and blinking system failures now and then (pimples… sores, stomach and back aches…), they pack on weight to protect us from abusive family members and be ready for flight, when ever it comes. They surge white blood cells to broken flesh and beat their hearts in continuous time. These are highly adept machines. We would do well to learn their ways and understand their signals so we can adapt and live in ease.

Running the survival program is exhausting!

I’m going to live running the health and successful program, from now on. <3 I think I got survival down.