Do not turn yourself inside out

I really liked this quote; I always seem to find things like this when I really need them.

A wave of sadness had hit me yesterday, in part because I was still trying to recover and process from a nightmare the night before. I had this horrible dream Other Child was dying and there was nothing I could do about it. I was at their bedside forced with having to let them go. I think a dream like that is fairly representative of how I am still sorting through my feelings after making the choice to go no contact. Sometimes making a choice like that when faced with an abusive family system (their way of thinking) you have to think of things in very black and white terms and be as unemotional as you can. If you let your emotions get involved there is a greater chance of getting hoovered back into the family. It's because you care, love them despite everything  and feel guilt not only because it seem you are hurting them but because you have been trained to accept all responsibility for any problems and issues. You have also been trained to think you are "the bad one" that they only want whats best for you, and that you have emotional issues and cannot see clearly. It's easy to believe them- that's why you almost have to completely shut that part of yourself off when you decide to leave. But in the aftermath all that pain from separation comes flooding in because you are in a safe space to feel it. And all the doubts flood back in as well. Did you make a terrible mistake, couldn't you have gone about things differently?

      I was feeling the sadness and doubt yesterday. I though about Other Child and because it's easy for me to put myself in their shoes I feel bad. They are likely genuinely hurt, and I feel horrible about that. I also think they do not understand and that makes the hurt worse. I thought about starting a series of posts here were I could write letters to them (even if they never read them) and explain myself better, that now that I have some distance I could communicate in a more mature way. I thought maybe this would create understanding and diminish the idea that I am hurtful on purpose and that I am selfish and hateful.  I just want to tell them that everything really makes sense and that it wasn't a decision based out of spite or a lack of caring about them. I can hear them in my head telling me that "If you really cared you would have stuck around to work things out, you wouldn't have isolated yourself, you isolate everybody". But then I am faced with the sticking point that never goes away. They are entrenched in the family program and they don't have any idea. Their idea of our relationship is that family comes first and it doesn't matter what they do you let it go and move on. Their idea of working on our relationship was to blame me for all of its problems. And to be fair I certainly share a portion of the hurt. But never were they willing to think or admit that they shared a portion as well. It would have been a one dimensional relationship at best. Even if we were to leave the family issues and some of our issues to the side there was dysfunction in some very basic aspects of the relationship. If they said something in a tone that felt hurtful I could not tell them without launching into an endless spiraling argument were my words would be twisted and they would put up a defense and shift any blame back to me. 

     It is still hard even knowing that. I don't hate them, and still care about them. And because of this I fall into thinking "if only I had done something different". In a way trying to shoulder the blame and responsibility gives me more of a feeling of control over the situation than the unfortunate reality in which I have none, and I have to deal with the loss of the relationship. It's hard because I know how they think, I know how the majority of my family thinks and I react to this in ways where I try to fix things and make it  better, do better, seem more grown up and mature so that maybe then they will have nothing bad to say about me, or can't blame me, or finally see that I am telling the truth and I am not hateful and on an mission to hurt them. It is hard because I have still cared what they think- I have given them all a great deal of power by caring what they think of me and desperately trying to fix that image.

     I felt like they could still hurt me if they didn't see the truth of things, if they participated in trashing me in family wide smear campaigns. I felt like they still had a power over my life and I have wanted to do damage control. At times I have, and sometimes making those statements to speak for yourself is important. But the truth is they all live in a bubble, and all things they have hurt by smear campaigns and disbelief are in that bubble. And anyone who does not stop to think or bother to ask me was always going to be part of that bubble. While it feels like I have lost everything- and that is a very real feeling worthy of honoring the grief attached- I have not lost anything that was not already lost to begin with. My families power stops there in the bubble, and they have no further power unless I give it to them and  I am coming to recognize the reality that I cannot turn myself inside out, trying to explain myself to people who refuse to see me, I am beginning to know who I am. 

Final Installment of My Story; A Heart Like Mine

 

 Closing the gate behind; leaving the suds in the bucket and the clothes hanging on the line.

     I thought that I would be writing the final installment of My Story; A Heart Like Mine from the singular perspective of leaving home many years ago. But I realized that in many ways I am only now finally leaving home and closing the gate behind me.

     I left home at eighteen, only returning once for a short while. I have still always been connected and rooted to home. The Saying is that you can't every go home again, perhaps that is true because none of us left to begin with. I know that I have been sorting through and untangling the negative influences of how I was raised and confronting both family and the dark secrets they've held. All of those memories and emotions are tied to home in both a literal and physical sense. And even though I will continue to sort through and heal the damage done, I will be shifting the focus away from my family. Engaging with them has been one of the things that has kept the gate open, but now I'm done.  I won't be connected to home anymore.

     The way I normally tell the story leading up to my first departure from home starts like this:

"When I was thirteen, Vaarsuvius told me they had made a mistake marrying Other Parent". 

I can remember where I was standing and that I had been reading an article about inventive teen engineers when Vaarsuvius found me and made their confession. I was not shocked, but surprised. I had known that we had a hard time as a family, that there was a lot of conflict, anger. Other Parent was controlling and often a source of tension. I wish I could go back and tell my naive younger self to put cotton balls in my ears right then and there, to ignore Vaarsuvius. Not because they were wrong but because they had no intention of finding ways to remedy the situation. Looking back I see their confession to me for what it was; a way to sever my relationship with Other Parent. They did not really want me all to themselves because they did not value me enough, but I was still an attention source and unlike Other Child I was very sympathetic and a great listener. 

     Vaarsuvius helped foster an anger and hatred of Other Parent. Now there was justification for the anger and hate out born out of frustration; Other Parent was an abuser. However I know now that Vaarsuvius was an abuser too. It wasn't really about recognizing Other Parents abuse and standing up to it, or leaving them for health and sanity. It was all about the game, and being a martyr victim was their favorite playing piece. Not only that but by shifting me away from the relationship with Other Parent Vaarsuvius accomplished something else; fixing a situation that made them feel vindictive and jealous. They saw me as competition for Other Parents attention, even if they didn't really want it. I was threatening to them and I had always been very much Other Parents little girl.  I had stayed Other Parent's little girl up until thirteen. Things had been that way even with the arrival of Other Child (the golden child). While they were inclined to treat Other Child as the golden child, there were times when they actually tried to spoil me and balance things out- even after I had been so mad at them.  Some of it was selfish on their part, they got to piss of Vaarsuvius, but at least I benefited a little. After Vaarsuvius confession I did spend a lot of time hating Other Parent and being much more aware of their abusive behaviors. Though I would also still spend time being pinged back and forth between them and Vaarsuvius based on who was in a good mood and who would support me.

     Vaarsuvius would continue to use me as a shoulder to cry on, and made me their full time therapist.I was told things that no teenager/kid should ever have to hear. I at many points begged them to leave Other Parent, but Vaarsuvius was not going to leave. I was told they were not going to leave because the golden child, Other Child needed both parents. Never mind me- I was not that important.  It was stressful, chaotic and intense living at home. There was not enough of the good and magical to wipe out the bad and stressful or even turn home into a somewhat healthy place to be. The summer I was eighteen I was coaxed out by Well meaning individual, they suggested I get a job so I had something else to think about aside from family problems. I tried to join the Armed Forces but when it did not work out I had to look for other options. I landed on a career as a Nanny at the suggestion of a friend. I found a position in another town, a few hours away form home. It was  my first real job position. I was up and gone from home in less than a week.

     Previous to my departure Vaarsuvius and Other Parent's relationship had deteriorated further. They had begun to live in different parts of the house with Vaarsuvius sleeping in the bottom bunk of Other Child's room, inflicting all the rest of their codependency on them. By the time I left they were in the middle of separation and divorce.
  Before I had left home I was still being pinged back and forth between my parents. At the time I left I was in Other Parents court, and In fact because of that Vaarsuvius was pissed. I had been communicating with them less because they had been so in-supportive of my attempts to be independent. They were pissed that I was communicating with Other Parent. They "were so hurt" by my withdrawal from them that when I moved out they wouldn't talk to me for a week.
Even after leaving I would continue to be back and forth  between my parents, primarily because them both being nincompoops meant that neither one was good company for long.

     My final separation from Other Parent was after writing them a letter confronting them about their bad behavior. We did not speak after that for a time, then I reached out when I got engaged to my now husband. What encountered was them being withholding and punitive. They said they did not feel my letter needed responding to. This and how they treated the news of my engagement was the end. They were not invited to my wedding. I messaged them once more about a family event, and heard from them only once more about coming home for a holiday- but there was never any acknowledgement of any issues and no apology. The final message I sent them was confronting them about my discovery of the other abuses, to which there has been no response.

     Vaarsuvius and I had many more trials before I found myself writing them a letter about the abuse by Other Parent. I also confronted the issues in our own relationship. I set up low contact and eventually no contact boundaries with them as I  tried to deal with everything. They had not responded well to my letters and attempts to communicate. I was met with defense after defense and empty apologies. They also would not support me about the sexual abuse by Other Parent. They tried to "support" me towards the end but it did not feel very sincere, it felt like an attempt to  hold onto me and keep things where they were at. It's always felt like a game with them, they think if they do all the right things, and say all the right words they will get a reward, and should get a reward. To them all those things they said were good and right, even though the sentiments felt completely empty. They will tell you like any Narcissist who thinks they are a victim- that they have no idea what went wrong or what they did. More than anything they don't want to be bad, and if losing a relationship means not having someone or being bad they will dig in their heels.

     The last time opening the gate; Vaarsuvius and I have been no contact for a while now. I recently opened up the lines of communication for practical reasons, getting any medical records they had to help explain an injury from childhood. There was no response.
       
      I find I am solid in my understanding of this history, and experience. Its conclusion is a very tangible scar that is left in its wake. This scar is not the first, it’s just the only one that is touchable and even visible on a CT scan.  There are way too many scars, way too much damage done. At some point the consequences catch up. Parents learn the hard and sad lesson that you cannot treat children in ways which hurt them and expect them to stay. Sometimes there is a point from which you can't return, a point where there is too much damage.

I’m done, I’m gone, wisp, poof, gone. 

I'll not ever be returning home again. 

It's a New Year and it's going to be perfect (because I said so).

    It's a couple days after Christmas and we are about to come into the New Year. I don't know about you but it's about this time of year where I start to feel an urge to plan for next year, and all the awesome things I am going to do, how much self change I want to set out to attain and how this New Year will be perfect. Cue the obsessive scrolling of Pinterest and creating boards and New Years resolutions left and right. I think "oh won't this be wonderful" and get a sort of New Years resolution happiness spike that will eventually result in a crash, burn and lots of tears. Perhaps even a wallop of depression. I always think of Bridget Jones setting out with her journal to make right all the things wrong in her life, and her hope to conquer the new year without last night's panties clinging to her legs, but instead in the laundry hamper where they belong.

     It's the greatest feeling swallowing that New Years punch, a cocktail called "Perfection". It gives you an energy boost and you go out and buy that new diary because you have determined there is no way you will let yourself down this year. Only you didn't read the full description of what you just imbibed, and what it actually says including the fine print is this: "Perfection; the best lie ever promised". You of course find this out after the fact when you have hit the depressive slump and headache that always accompanies such a cocktail.

     So what's an imperfect girl to do? I don't know, I am making it up as I go along. I started out this year by doing releasing bundles for Winter Solstice/ Yule. These are really lovely and you can find how to make them and perhaps do your own releasing for New Years eve or even Twelfth Night here:http://pixiecampbell.typepad.com/pink_coyote/2011/11/make-your-own-releasing-kit-instructions.html
Perfection was the general focus of my releasing bundles this year, and I am glad I did it a week ago so I had already made it my intention before arriving at today my annual New Years resolution freak-out. I think it's the only thing stopping me from starting new Pinterest boards in which I do a mock dream board for my perfect future life. However that is not to say that using Pinterest as a vision board is a bad idea. In fact I think most times it can be really helpful, however it is only helpful if you are putting the kind of intention into it that does not require perfection, or that you fix yourself. I have often done vision boards because of a dissatisfaction with my "flawed self". It's like trying to go forward while your bitch self is holding you back as she criticizes the fact that you are not a glamorous executive who has been feature in vogue and has the toned body of a model. For any guys reading this and trying to relate I think you have your own visions of perfection and you are marketed to just as much as women. I cite the men's underwear models and suite mannequins in department stores as a perfect example.

Oddly enough, and as much as I hate it, you can't go into the New Year without "this bitch self". She  (or he, let's call him fat bastard) is your co-companion for life. I think this self is created from and formed from the muddy clay of all our imperfections. I think this self feels like a Frankenstein monster and looks to you to fix it, to make it right, your the one who is supposed to make them beautiful and perfect.

     In my case the "bitch self" is also the part that carries all the shame and pain of abuse. Even more reason for her to want to be somebody else desperately. She doesn't want the body that was violated, she doesn't want the low self esteem and what she feels is lack of success in the real world because her abusers defined success, beauty and value. I should say "our abusers" as this isn't really a separate part of myself. This is the part of me that drinks those cocktails of perfection in hope of waking up to a better tomorrow and then gets depressed when things clearly did not live up to those standards. Bridget Jones plan didn't live up to all she hoped either, it wasn't  a perfect New Year and she continued to make mistakes and stumble through. But out of all the chaos and feelings of imperfection came something good. First thing to note is that she kept moving forward, despite falling on her face and hitting those depressive slumps. Part of the lie of perfection is that you can't keep going forward when things don't turn out perfect, you can. That is part of defeating the whole lie, not accepting that what you doing isn't good enough or that you are not valuable. I believe that a lot of the lies we hold about ourselves, "the bitch self", can be unconscious. We can see our dissatisfaction with what we are not, but we may not see what else is driving that message and what we actually believe about our self worth. The bitch self who wants to be perfect does not see what motivates them or figure out that they are okay just as they are, until the run into something that makes them see that unconscious message. That something is a Daniel Cleaver. 

     I sometimes end up making changes in my life, especially about how I think about myself and my value because something comes into my life and pushes me and pisses me off.  This push seems to help me find exactly where my boundaries lie and what I believe. Getting angry I seem to find myself and then I push back. Bridget Jones get's exactly what she wished for in the handsome albeit loathsome boss Daniel Cleaver.  However when he treats her like dirt that creates a push and causes her to spring back and realize that not only does she not like to be treated that way, but she doesn't think she deserves to be treated that way. She sees all the the messages she tells herself directly in what Daniel Cleaver says to her and how he treats her, and she is able to reject it as all utter bullshit. The Daniel Cleaver experience brings all those unconscious messages to the forefront. Sometimes it takes us a few times of running into Cleaver to really finally have that "push back moment". I have noticed that a lot of those "aha" moments have come when I was able to get outside the abusive family system and clear my life of any other toxic relationships. So maybe it's not just feeling that push but all those other important things that go into being able to question the messages we tell ourselves about our self worth (therapy etc.). Either way when we do get to a push and find confidence in ourselves it helps us re-examine all the things our bitch self is saying to us.

     I don't think the push from running into Daniel Cleaver is always enough to help make the companionship with your bitch self an easier road to walk. They are still tumultuous and vindictive. They cannot stand the current state of your life, and they might even hate you, and you them. What I have discovered about my bitch self is what she really truly hates, and loathes more than imperfection, more than anything; herself. Remember she is birthed from the earth, mud, clay of all your mistakes and imperfect parts and she cannot stand it. She is as disgusted with herself as Frankenstein who is created from a mess of parts. Enter my favorite bullshit advice; "love yourself/ embrace all parts". I say bullshit not because it is untrue but because it is not in depth advice. It's also advice that assumes we know what self love is, and what it feels like. Yes embracing the bitch self and all her broken, imperfect parts will move you forward because you will no longer be fighting a war within yourself and against yourself. My experience coming out of an abusive family system created this idea that if I stopped racing to achieve perfection I had just given in and quit. Of course I also learned that if I wan't perfect I was not valuable at all. Vaarsuvius had a defining set of remarks that have stuck with me in this regard. I once brought them a project I had done to show them. They looked over it and stated with nonchalance "that's nice". Then they began to tell me where all the errors I had made where. I protested and said that I just wanted to them to see the whole overall idea and not worry about the things that needed to be fixed, because those could be fixed later. They still would not acknowledge the beauty of the idea in my project. I protested their lack of reaction and they told me "what do you want me to say" and proceeded to essentially say that it wasn't perfect, it wasn't like I had mastered something at the level of Picasso so how could they praise it? They asked me if I wanted them to lie about it being good. So ever after that I have carried this idea that if it was not Picasso level then it was not good enough, and that I shouldn't accept something as good if it wasn't. Worse yet they got me to believe that praise for anything less than Picasso would be undeserved, cheating, and anyone doing the praise would be lying. 

This is not only how I came to think of my creative projects but also myself. Anyone who said good job when I had clearly made mistakes was just lying or being nice.

     Figuring out how to love the bitch self and stop seeking perfection is sometimes a complicated puzzle and being advised to love yourself can feel like a joke when you have so many past programs to dismantle. My actual practical advice is to not worry about it. Seeking self love can just as easily become a quest for perfection. The actual practice of self love and figuring out what it looks like is something we may just stumble into (I had this happen about thing Holiday related). I also think it more realistically looks like what you would do during meditation. In mediation the goal is to be present and quite our minds but our inner voice(s) always pipe up. It is easy to get frustrated and turn it into a quest for perfection as well, but all we really need to do is accept the chattering voices as they come up and then return to our state of presence. It looks like this: Breathe, quite, then chattering voice, acknowledge and then return to our focus of breathing and quiet, repeat. 

      I have also found that there are some actual strengths on the underside of my imperfections, and this has helped me to see them differently and hate them less. The truth is we need that bitch self, it is part of us and can be wielded as a great tool. Bridget Jones happy ending wasn't Mark Darcy, it was being her bumbling fantastic self. If all else fails in making friends with you inner bitch, Martha Beck just wrote a great article on exactly this subject in the December issue of O magazine. 

     I am still figuring out how I want to head into the New Year, but I know I want to cautiously approach any resolutions and remember not to drink any perfection cocktails or punch as best I can because I won't be perfect at that either. I am going to promise myself that if I do end up with a perfection hangover that I have still managed to be what it is I am trying to be in the first place; human. A wise person I know told me that they had heard the best advice; and that is instead of trying to reach for enlightenment and higher consciousness on a spirit level that, we are actually spirits trying to learn to be human. And that essentially should be our focus, with compassion learn to be human. I actually think it's harder to do than trying to be a zen master especially when we are tasked with facing our inner bitch self or that fumbling clunky girl that might look a lot like Bridget Jones.

The leather sole; identity

 I was raised in the thick of farmland, had animals could ride horses and once rode a cow. I was by all definition a country girl, I owned the boots to prove it. 

    A love and appreciation for animals and agriculture was instilled in me from an early age. But I also had a love of fashion ( Haute couture), and  I was a miniature Martha Stewart following in the steps of Other Parents Sibling (who I am going to dub for the sake of this blog; the Black Butler). Aside from my taking after the Black Butler, Vaarsuvius was dumbfounded as to where I came from. They had a hard time connecting with me on many things outside of agriculture based activities. Other Parent was actually the one who often tried a little harder to get involved with my interests. The country lifestyle was really Vaarsuvius dream, and Other Child was the one who most followed in their footsteps. 

     Being raised on a farm, in a agriculture community I could say in truth I was a country girl. But I think environment aside Vaarsuvius passion for agriculture, animals and a country lifestyle did dictate on some level that it also be my passion and part of my identity. When this is the main way in which one is able to communicate and be in a relationship with their parent you try and fit in as best as possible. We all have different facets of ourselves that we use to navigate our worlds. Some examples would be; Parent, Teacher, Professional/Career, Family, Social etc. So it makes sense to develop a facet to engage with ones family and their primary interests. Another dimension to this is if you are not just engaging with the family, but surviving it. Both of these things were true in my case, and the Country girl facet that developed was one of several that I would use to navigate my family and life. I wanted to do things with them because I wanted to be loved and accepted, but at the same time I didn't always have a choice about it and was pushed, shoved and drug along for the ride. I needed ways to survive those experiences, and so this facet or split piece of self developed and became good at navigating the game of being a country girl and good family girl. 

     What may have begun as a learned appreciate for agriculture and animals developed into a survival mechanism. It is a disassociation mechanism. I do not black out and become someone else, for me its just like putting on a pair of cowboy boots and going into a country girl "mode of being". It is not much different from someone putting on their career face when they step into an office. The difference is this is not naturally developed trait.  To make things confusing for me I had all these other interests, all the fashion and cooking seemed to have an air of "girly girl" to it. This was deemed to not fit with being a country girl. Also to be divided and not have a focused identity was not understood at all. I didn't understand it! Also it gave Vaarsuvius and Other Child an excuse to belittle me, and exclude me.  I felt like Alice in wonderland trying to get to her true size because nothing seemed to fit, and I could not fit in.

      Underneath what I call my Cowgirl and Princess personality modes, were other split pieces of self. These broke off when their seemed to be a task that needed to be done in order to survive. Some were focused on surviving family relationships, others enduring the abuse. I think I have narrowed it down to about ten pieces or "modes" that I operate from. If you met me you would likely not be able to tell that this is a daily experience for me, in fact those that do know me well cannot tell.


      Despite being raised to be a good little Christian, Republican country girl I turned out to be a  feminist (ha ha parents the joke is on you!) a political progressive, and spiritually undecided woman. I still listen to my very nostalgic collection of country music, love rolling hills, animals and have a unique appreciation for farm equipment. I love, love the smell of alfalfa hay and when they do first cuttings in the local fields where I live. I don't think the country girl in me has died, the one who started out loving those things not the one who was pushed, forced, and drug along. However I have had to make room for massive personal growth. I have had to allow for more than one way to identify and find self value. I was a country girl and that will always be a piece of me, even though I am far from home now and have left behind all of my family and relations. I came forward with my experiences and memories of childhood sexual abuse and they did not believe me. So I left them behind to take care of myself, go forward with my healing, and to show them just what little country girls are made of.