My brain is so tired. Family drama. Crappy drama. Days like this I label as survival mode. I’m accused of things I know are untrue. I had planned to do schoolwork for the last two days and that has not happened. I’m just venting here. I know things will get better – I just hate getting blindsided by the dark side of the universe…that part sucks. And I need contact lenses. On the upside, Dean Karnazes liked my congratulatory comment, so…there’s that. I could live with that for a little while…
What a journey. What a freaking journey. You know me. I work backwards. Ass backwards as my mom used to say. Not about me, but backwards was often prefaced with that colorful adjective…ass backwards. 🙂 Say it and feel the joy if you don’t believe me. I’ll wait……there, said it? Good.
I move backwards from the moment, yes? So, I sit here this morning. Holy Thursday morning, Maundy (SP?), what have you. It’s the day my Lord and Savior had the Last Supper and then got arrested afterwards. Lent has been an extremely powerful journey for me this year but that’s for another post. pretty much.
I sit here this morning – here’s what I’ve done so far. I woke up at 5 after placing my intentions with God last night – I will wake up joyful and with purpose. There were about 25 seconds of oh-shit-why-why-why-do-i-have-to-get-up-this-freaking-early but hey, I got right to it. I prayed. I walked the dog. I fed all the animals. I gave my daughter a valium. :))))) For her wisdom teeth extraction!!! Which is why I’m typing fast – I gotta get her up & dressed so we can go get her four – count ’em 4 – wisdom teeth extracted. Got my other daughter to school for 7 so she could take a make-up biology test…on the way to school she told me the sweet story about the kid in her class yesterday – during the video about DNA, there was a person blowing into the box to move some particles of something around and one of her classmates took the opportunity to say, “He’s hot boxing the DNA, dude!” He got detention. Poor teacher. Okay, I laughed. Then I said, poor teacher. That was a highly inappropriate comment. He should receive detention and I hope YOU didn’t laugh at that.
Anywho. I have so much to catch up on on here. I am here! So there’s that! And I’m still sober!!!! That.is.freaking.amaze.balls. Truly. I treasure my sobriety right there under my relationship with God Himself. And I am not kidding on that.
Looks like I haven’t posted since January?
I went back to school! UL Lafayette. I am a student! I love it. I was momentarily freaked out like I would be the oldest person on campus, but I am not and even if I were, I wouldn’t care. I love learning. I miss being in school.
Life with a narcissist is not easy. I won’t even go into adjectives here because there are none sufficient to describe the absolute fucked up pain they inflict. My advice if you find yourself tangled up with one? Untangle. Get out. Figure it out. Google. Read. Educate yourself. And after you’ve educated yourself? HEAL YOURSELF. There is no hope for them. Just resign yourself to that fact. Okay, one in a million may change, but resign yourself to – “My one in a million is not the one that will be changing.” They are masters of disguise. They can stuff their toxicity for a couple of weeks or more maybe, but the poison comes out. It has to. And you better be ready when it does.
I have resigned myself that if I am going to be here, I am going to heal while I am here. My daughters are here and I am empowering them, educating them, loving them, and helping them to grow into self-sufficient women. I am working with a PhD who I absolutely get along with. Crazy fact? He has known my family since 1981. He has amazing insight. He has been very helpful and I’ll continue to work with him on healing and therapy.
Okay, gotta go wake up my beautiful girl. Any readers of mine out there, how are YOU?
Dear universe,I would just like to capture in words how I got to this spot. I used to wonder – years ago – I used to wonder – how did other people do it? Did the husband scream at the wife in every relationship? And if that’s true, how come all the friends I knew on FB & all the Christmas cards I got showed people I knew and they looked genuinely happy? And did the dads scream at the kids and make them cry? Did the dads say things to make the children cry all under the umbrella of, “What? Do you want me to lie to her? She didn’t run a good race.” I could never figure it out because I had no template to follow. I was too embarrassed to ask questions. After sobriety set in, I started doing the difficult work. Untangling the knots of my own life to discover how my thought process became that way. How my esteem was all but gone. Why couldn’t I go to school when I wanted to? Why could I be a regular homemaker that had just a little bit of authority over the house – how it was run and how it looked. But looking back, all these years later, none of those things mattered to him. What mattered to him was that he found someone so broken she didn’t even realize. Which paved the way so easily to “his way or the highway.” If I had a dollar for every time I heard, “if you don’t like it, pack your shit and get the fuck out,” all the while controlling every cent that came into our lives, I would be rich. He would argue that no understanding of money ever came into my life, only his, because I “never contributed to any of the bills anyway,” so how would I know?
Even today, sitting on the tarmac in Denver, he was sickeningly cruel, demanding my youngest daughter’s cell phone as he stood in the aisle waiting to get off the plane and while she was in her seat. I intervened and of course took the brunt of his vitriol…the glaring, black eyes staring at me, squatting to make himself low enough to be eye to eye with me. The oddest thing was that people were staring at him as if to say, “WTF is wrong with you?” He has become a bigger bully over the years. I was always able to take it, but when it became more directed to my daughters, I started planning my way out. And that’s where I am now – on the precarious ledge of feeling not quite ready and not caring anymore about this farce of a relationship. He commented to me recently that he missed when I respected him so much. I told him that he should not confuse respect with fear.
So, thanks universe. I make sense of things ejecting words into you. I understanding the saying, “Feel the fear and do it anyway.”
And thank You, God. I know You have my back as always.
It’s hard to unknow what we know. I feel so broken and numb inside. I know this is exactly what the narcissist wants. Complete ruin while he sits in the middle of it like a Pharisee. That same mouth that he tore down my daughter with yesterday is the same mouth that he called her over with this morning so she could kiss him goodbye before school. Sick motherfucker.
He sat there with his brother this morning, reading scripture and telling his brother how strong the Holy Spirit has been moving in his life. It makes me sick.
I know that people deserve forgiveness and chances. I don’t believe, however, that turning a blind eye to such obvious abuse is right. And when you factor in the fact that we are married, well, there is a higher level of expectation there.
He came with us to the meeting at church and googled his phone and fell asleep twice during the 55 minute meeting.
I just need to get stuff out. I’m burning here and I need help. What is right? To stay here until both daughters graduate and get my own life in order, as much as that is possible? Or do I leave now, before my daughters senior year next year and deal with all that brings to the equation?
I’m depending on God. I still don’t feel great. I’m taking today to do what I need to do for me, which right now is sleep. And pray. God help me. God help him. I figure if I can pray for those evil freaks in Isis, I can pray for my husband, too. And I do. I just find myself telling God a disclaimer beforehand – God, I know we are supposed to pray for those who persecute us, and I gotta tell ya – I’m going through the motions here.
God help me.
Sometimes I believe if I don’t document the craziness, I almost can’t believe it actually happened. This morning I woke up on day 3 with a Burning sore throat. I knew I would go to the doctor today. I can hear my daughter come in the front door from her sleepover. I could hear my husband saying something to her. I am not kidding when I say within 30 seconds I could hear him outside the back part of our house calling her a little motherfucker. I’ve literally bolted out of bed, Flew down the stairs, and into the backyard to see WTF was going on. She was standing there completely traumatized. He was in a rage, screaming that if only she…, If she would have done…,
How does one enter a moment of insanity like that? I quickly prayed to God as to what to say and do. I tried to remain calm which was difficult. I told him that regardless of anything she could have done in the 30 seconds that she was home, he was the one who had control over his reaction. It went on for a little while, with him continuing to scream and point fingers at me and her for his rage. EditAnyway, this is a prime example of gaslighting. Ugly rage just comes out of nowhere and is blamed solely on the recipients.
So I went to the doctor before the dust could settle. I’m about to go pick up my prescription & start to get much better quickly because I can’t afford to be sick on so many different levels.
I’m pissed at myself because he had this same bacterial infection. He was driving us one day a week or so ago, coughed and sneezed in the closed up car, and didn’t try to mitigate his contamination. I have already been I conditioned not to say anything because it is taken as criticism, not as me trying to prevent me or my girls from catching whatever he had. And narcissist cannot abide by any type of correction.
So my wounds are self inflicted – I have been isolating emotionally – I know it’s because there was a slight lull between gaslighting events and I – in my own sickness – just wanted to feel normal for a little while.
Sigh. Lull over.
God help us.
I was conflicted. I am in South Louisiana. My state flooded last weekend…well, the southern part anyway. So, while I am doing what I can – financially and practically, I feel unbelievably grateful because we didn’t sustain any damage personally. Our neighborhood, yes; us, no. So, while my life doesn’t have the incredible inconveniences that come with natural disasters (this IS Louisiana, don’t forget; I have spent too many nights and days to count that we were “out” of electricity. No air conditioning in South Louisiana after a hurricane is vomit-provoking)
Anyway, I guess what I am saying is, I almost feel guilty taking time in my day for my job that I love. But I am. So, here goes…
The Yoga Retreat (21 Days) will be out in September. Today on Beachbody on Demand, we had a sneak peek. I never really check out the sneak peeks, but I was intrigued by this one because I have always been interested in yoga and have never been able to successfully complete one single “lesson” or “practice” as I’m now told. So.Today I did! It was amazing. The guy who teaches it is very cool, not the kind of guy I was expecting at all. He seems pretty Southern California, laid back, very knowledgeable and encouraging. I started the Core Practice and complete it! I couldn’t believe it! The moves were doable, somewhat challenging, and let me know I was working. What I really liked was that he encouraged proper breathing and said that breathing IS the practice. There was someone modifying and I didn’t have to look at that dude at all. I am really excited for this to come out and I will definitely be getting it.
I am doing 22 Minute Hard Corp beginning on September 6 and I know I can incorporate the 21-Day Yoga Retreat into my day. The Core sneak peek was just about 3o minutes and was really relaxing and centering. Let me put it this way: as soon as I finished my 30 minutes, I immediately clicked to do this review! And writing reviews is something I never do.
And on that note – reviews – that is changing! I am going to start another FB page – one devoted to my health coaching practice and Beachbody coaching. I am 48 and badass. I’m going to start acting like it. I realize more and more that I have a lot to offer and I intend to do just that. No one gets through this life unscathed and when we can grow and share, I think that’s what it’s all about, right? The idea for the new page came to me from my 16 year old daughter a couple of weeks ago. I liked the idea when she told me. Then, this evening, I kept pulling pair after pair of yoga/running pants out of the dryer and with each pull, I remembered things about each pair – where I got them, how long they have lasted, do people really appreciate the craftsmanship of Lululemon athletic wear? So, I just thought it seemed completely natural that I start embracing my badassness & just start sharing. I might even help someone! 🙂
Alright, time to go watch the triathlon on the Olympics! Peace out.
I am getting this out from my head into cyberspace because I need to. It’s a selfish post, really. I was kneeling in Mass today. I pray. A lot. I am constantly trying to stay connected to God. Any who. So, I’m kneeling there in Mass as the priest is preparing the Eucharist. I heard in my heart God asking me to write a letter about how I felt the day my dad died. huh? “Are You sure, God?” Then, I understood the same way I knew about the writing that He knew I was always seeking Him. So, if I know I am hearing from Him, why do I question Him when I do? Well. Okay. You got me, God. So, here I am.
That day was terrible. I didn’t want to go to school because in my spirit, I knew something was so wrong. But I was pushed out of the door to go to the bus stop at the corner. It sucked. I didn’t want to go, but I was 8. And I never bucked the system. I remember before I left that I kissed my dad good-bye and he told me, “I love you, baby girl,” and those were the last words I would ever hear him say to me. And that would be the last time my life seemed “normal” which it wasn’t, but at least he was there when he wasn’t sick and in Houston. Around 2:00, my brother came to get me at school. I was at recess. Someone ran out to get me. My teacher, Mrs. Morrison, was looking at me with the most empathetic look I had ever seen. Then I saw my brother. And I knew. He picked me up and carried me out without saying anything. When we got to the front of the school, he put me down, kneeled down in front of me, held my arms lightly and said, “Mary, Daddy went to Heaven.” I remember standing there and the words hadn’t really hit me. They kind of bounced off me and were swirling around me unable to attach to me. I felt like I had left my own body as we walked to the car. Someone else was with us; I can’t remember who. I think we went to pick up my other brother at his school next. I’m not totally sure about that. I remember going home soon after and seeing a lot of cars in our driveway & parked along the street near our house. I walked into our house and just wanted my mom. She was lying down in my brother’s room and when I went to see her, she put her arms out, not to draw me to her, but to signal me away from her. And so it began. The unravelling of life as I knew it. Next thing I knew, the old housekeeper had me by the hand, leading me outside onto the back patio. No one was out there. It was cool and muggy. I had never even met this housekeeper in my life. I had heard good things about her, but I had never met her. We didn’t have much conversation. After that, I was much like those words I heard from my brother – the ones that were unable to attach anywhere – I was just floating around, looking for someplace to belong. We are Irish Roman Catholic and so there is a lot of celebration surrounding death. We had an Irish wake at our house (code for everyone gets bombed). I wore my Martha Washington dress (minus the bustle) to the funeral home with a pair of white patent leather shoes. I am writing only from my perspective, but I can’t help but think how extremely difficult this whole situation must have been for my mother. She had already lost her first-born daughter years before and I think life was just difficult back then for her. Anyway. We all stayed out of school for the rest of the week, I seem to remember. We went to my dad’s grave soon after and I remember wanting to bring a card to him. Hmm. I must have missed the whole death memo. It’s sweet in a way, I know. So, as I continue to strive to be obedient to God, I recollect feeling abandoned times two. From my dad and then my mom. I was afraid. Our home became pretty dysfunctional not long after. I remember my mom staying home with us for awhile before she got a job. I remember thinking she was so sad. I remember finding bottles of liquor hidden, fresh made drinks hidden above the sink in the cabinet. I don’t know what she thought. I recognized that these things were hidden, so I thought I shouldn’t say anything. “Hey, anybody left a bourbon on the rocks up here?” “No?” I would smell it and then put it back. When I would find a bottle, it was like finding a live grenade. I would find a fifth under her sink, close the cabinet, and just get the hell out of there. I think what God is trying to show me is something I learned almost two years ago from my favorite counselor ever, “Pain concealed is pain unhealed.” I wasn’t aware there was anymore pain associated with that time, but maybe there is. It is a little painful typing all this crap and remembering the aftermath. Not enough money. Not enough food. Roaches moved in. And brought all their relatives. No guidance. My sister really stepped up a few years later when she had grown up a little. The church would drop off a box of food every Christmas. It was pretty dysfunctional. Everyone kind of spiraled their own way. I never really knew what was normal. I have spent a lifetime guessing/trial & error. Finally, FINALLY, I realized that God is there. Has always BEEN there. Will always BE there. I can turn to Him ANYTIME. I just didn’t know it back then. My dad had introduced me to Jesus and I knew my mom knew Him, but I didn’t know how to get to know Him. That happened through trial & error, too.
Okay, God, I hope I have done what You have asked. I love you.