Category: abuse

Happy toxic bitches day!

Posted on by Grayson
Seriously though, happy mother’s day to you awesome ladies out there.
For you not so awesome ladies?

If my recent post on the crud with my mother resonated with you, today may be a pretty rough day for you. I will freely admit that it is for me, mostly because of the expectations that you be with your parents on these made-up holidays to celebrate their sacrifices.

Not all parents are worthy of such admiration.

Parents also need to understand that every little sacrifice they make isn’t on the kid. That’s an adult choice and shouldn’t be held over your kid’s head.

To clarify, we kids didn’t ask to be born right? Parents knowingly engaged in something they knew could bring about kids, trying or not. They knew what they could be getting themselves into.

A good parent is selfless and doesn’t need these cheesy ass candy company holidays.

On that note, check out the links below. Some of them are parent specific, but a lost of them focus on self-care/love after rough patches or dealing with toxic people.

We can start with those darn parental units.

I shared this post about rough mother’s day issues on my facebook page the other day. It outlines a few ways mothers specifically can be abusive. I have to say that my mother falls into each of these categories, which is kind of frightening.

Sound familiar? Here’s another story on growing up in a similar situation and another on how the cycle of abuse works for abusers.

Being someone who is empathic or can easily cultivate compassion for others is really hard when you’re in an abuse situation as this article discusses. This woman discusses how her mother’s death and the resulting PTSD led her to develop more compassion.

Perhaps your abusive situation, past or present, surrounds more of an intimate relationship like this. It can be so hard to get out, and it doesn’t help when people judge or make decisions to ‘help’ that actually can put you in more danger.

For some people, friends are the problem. Perhaps you have friends that don’t respect your time or dominate conversations always. One way among others to work on this is to express yourself, but that sadly doesn’t always work.

Perhaps the first step to healing from this type of toxicity is to learn that you are worthy of saying no. You not only have it in your power, but you have a right to stand up for yourself. You are worthy of love, and if you’re not getting it, get out!

In the healing process, I give myself pep talks. It’s perfectly normal and we all do it from time to time. For me, it’s just a little more constant right now. I have to reassure myself that I’m on the right path in many things, that I’m worth the good choices I’m making, and that it doesn’t matter if I’m quirky.

My quirkiness is what kept me alive. My quirkiness is what makes me fun to be around. And I’m not ever going to cut it out.

It took a lot for me to get so comfortable talking about what I’ve been through. I’m still really realizing some of it.

When I started therapy again a few months ago, I set a goal with my therapist that I really want to learn who *I* am. That requires really dealing with the experiences I’ve had and putting myself back together… even though one could argue that I’ve never fully been ‘together’ to begin with. I have to take the power back and control my own life. I also have to be patient when that doesn’t move as quickly as I would’ve wanted.

Because of the fears that were instilled in me as a child, I have pretty good anxiety. It can be really hard to deal with, although medication is helping. I still get overwhelmed in crowds, but I’ve also learned to embrace and lean into that uncomfortable situation. I’ve learned that it’s okay to not be okay, and I’m okay with that.

I believe that self-care and self-love can change the world. I believe that it has changed my life for the better. If I bug you personally about self-care and love, it’s because I care about you and want you to be well and happy and all that good stuff.

It also allows me to be a bitch when I need to be, and I’m kinda loving it.

Perhaps the biggest thing for me was starting to date myself. I mean, how could you love yourself without a courtship phase?

You really can’t.

Do I love myself fully? Not yet, but I’m getting there. I’ll continue to keep dating myself until I find that place. I hope that you do too.

Don’t know where to start on self-love? Check out this link. Learn about the power of self-worth. Read those quotes on strength.

Take care of yourself today. Please. Treat yourself the way you’d treat your closest friend – with compassion, tenderness, understanding, and love.

Meditation Monday: Reflections on the best year of my life [super long post]

Posted on by Grayson
A year ago today I said goodbye to my mother.

Don’t get that wrong – she’s very much alive.

When I said goodbye to her, it was on my terms. She uninvited herself to my wedding towards the end of our conversation: “I’m going to do us both a favor. I hope your day in August is everything you want it to be.”

She tried to tell everyone I didn’t invite her because I’m a liberal snob (I wish I was kidding) but those words stick in my head to remind me that it wasn’t my choice.

My mother is someone that needed (needs?) a lot of therapy for the things she went through growing up and she never got it. She thinks that is a sign of weakness anyways. She had concerns for how much to share because, after all, the environment she grew up in was all about looking perfect on the outside and not exposing any dirty little secrets to anyone, something that tends to follow certain religious sects.

This is also an environment she created for us.

She grew up in a world where discipline was doled out by the handful, with physical violence and screaming matches the norm. She had to help raise her siblings when she should’ve been being a child. She dealt with abuse not only from her mother but from others outside the family as well.

It’s a sad story for sure. However, none of what she went through excuses how she perpetuated that cycle of ‘discipline’ and abuse towards her daughters.

You all know how I feel about secrets, and this family situation is the biggest reason why. If someone – anyone – had shared a secret along the way, perhaps my mother could’ve gotten help she needed – and her mother before her. Alas, mother refuses to even get help with her physical health issues that could be life-threatening, so mental health issues are far behind on the priority list.

It’s not worth the interventions I’ve staged, the false promises, or the fights. And that’s really sad.

I wish they weren’t. I wish things were different. I wish I didn’t feel so much like an orphan who had to raise herself and help raise her sister… and to some extent, her mother really.

With my sister moved away and me out of contact with my mother, I feel so much like an empty nester who gets to accomplish things she always looked forward to now.

It’s such an odd feeling at 27.

I very much wish that we had been allowed to have a more normal childhood. I wish having normal relationships with other children happened instead of the abuse at the hands of other children that we went through – and instead of the emotional incest and oversharing about sexuality we endured from the adults in our home… and the physical abuse. (EDIT: want to learn more about this type of parenting? Click here – Kels & I could practically have been these kids.)

I wish that I hadn’t been told the absolute worst would happen if I did xyz… I never was abducted for playing outside. I never was harmed by a stranger offering to help. Because of the apocalyptic views, I grew to have horrible anxiety attacks to the point where I couldn’t sleep at night because that’s obviously when crime happened. If I slept, someone might have snuck into the house and hurt my family.

That continues off and on still.

It probably will for the rest of my life.

And I fucking hate it.

People say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. I have enough strength already – I did growing up. I don’t need my illness crud or current family crud to add to that, thanks much.

That said…

From the moment I stopped having a relationship with my mother, I gained strength. Emotionally, I began to process and accept what I have been through – something that I will have to work on until the day I leave this earth. I began to mentally deal with the abuse I’ve been through, which is a similar process. Recognizing what is and isn’t abuse is hard. So many people write things off as dysfunction because we refuse to believe or deal with what’s in front of us.

I also began to physically decompress from all the stress of my whole life. My body isn’t perfect. I’m still sick. I still have to take and switch meds to get better and better (eventually). However, I’m feeling the best that I have since I was just starting college. I’m able to be physically active and not have to pay for it afterwards.

Heck, if my labs weren’t awful, I would think remission was close at hand.

The amount of stress a relationship with my mother causes physically alone isn’t cost effective. If we add in those emotional bits, it’s like trying to be bffs with Voldemort.

In the last year, I have taken my life back. I’ve done things that I’ve always wanted to do, from traveling alone to meeting my dad and starting to become a part of that family to getting married to my best friend to getting an amazing job and moving to visiting my sister on the west coast and trying to take her mind off things to truly learning who I am.

I’m a wife, piggie momma, awkward daughter, sister, good friend, quirky feminist, gamer, writer, musician, hard worker, fun person, a fixer… I could go on and on.

Perhaps the most important thing I’ve learned is who I am not and what I will not do.

I am not a victim. I refuse to play that part, despite all the shit I’ve gone through, because I see where that leads me in my mother and grandmother. I am not an abuser. I am not a scared little girl who will keep quiet because of threats. I am not someone who can be lied to and conned into believing everyone else is awful or that everyone else is to blame for our problems. I am not gullible nor am I a liar. I am not someone who will choose a religion when it’s convenient and turn my back on it in better times. I am not perfect and I will not pretend that I am. I will not even set perfection as a goal anymore because it isn’t realistic. I will not threaten my loved ones with my suicide when things are tough. I will not lean on my future children to be my best friends instead of raising them. I will not neglect my siblings or niblings, no matter what comes. I am not someone who feels entitled to everything. I am not someone who would allow children in my care to be abused by others and do nothing about it. I am not someone who will badmouth everyone behind their backs, only to act like they’re amazing to their faces. I will not neglect or beat animals. I will not bow down to a man I act like I need to run my life. I will not spew bigotry and argue why others should believe as I do.

Who I am, quite simply, is someone who chooses to live in the present, who wants to help others and to do the most right things, and who loves with her full heart.

Most of all, through all of this rebuilding, I have discovered that I am worth it. I am worth the efforts I take, the money I spend on such things, and the time I use on myself.

I guess the thing that bothers me the most is that mother and grandmother refuse to even acknowledge that there could possibly maybe be a hint of a smidgen of truth in what I remember. But like, they also don’t remember a whole lot, so… whatever. That’s irrelevant. If you’ve hurt someone – even if you think you didn’t – you apologize and learn about it so you don’t do it again.

I am sure that, as usual, my mother will throw a fit about this post.

Despite the fact that I’ve made it clear that I don’t want her in my life, she continues to ‘check up’ on me online. It bothers me that she gives no fucks about my wishes, but it doesn’t surprise me either given the last 27 years of crap.

Nothing does at this point.

While it pisses me off that she won’t let go, I refuse to stop blogging or talking about what I’ve been through – especially after all the sweet things that I’ve been told lately by readers on social media about how helpful I have been… and especially with big things in the works for me. I refuse to tear down this mini-empire of helpfulness that took me so long to build and to get recognized.

I’m meant for too many amazing things to let someone like this stop me. That’s not being cocky or self-centered either – it’s called confidence.

I will continue to be me and to live the life I was meant to live – one where I love myself and help others to learn to do the same, despite these dang illnesses or issues stemming from abuse that we deal with every day long after perps are out of the picture.

I won’t hide myself to make the lives of others more comfortable, not ever again.

Someone asked me how I’ve been able to cut contact with my mother, which is a great question. Cutting contact when I did, right before getting married, was difficult with the expectations from society on mothers’ and fathers’ roles in weddings and such. So much to say there for another day.

It’s very simple really. Any time I thought maybe I was on the wrong path, I pictured a vivid scene in my mind – usually having to do with my sister.

It’s mother picking on my sister, telling her to grow a sense of humor because mother making fun of her wasn’t something sis thought was funny.

It’s when our uncle would take my sister and me to the other side of the house and cover our ears, but we could still hear mother and grandmother screaming threats and horrible things at each other – and sometimes physically assaulting each other as well.

It’s my mother continuing to sleep with someone who sexually assaulted me, long after I told her about it, and making excuses for his actions. It’s forcing me to be around him after she promised I’d never have to see him again. It’s not believing what I’d said until Kelsey saw him try to drunkenly kiss me. It’s forcing us to lie, to say we were his friend’s kids when we stayed at his house with his WIFE there.

It’s my mother telling me she’d let me marry my high school boyfriend at FIFTEEN when he turned 18, and to start asking the extended family for wedding tips, only to laugh at me afterwards.

It’s her sharing very personal things with the extended family, like when I lost my virginity or started my period.

Most often, though, it’s when my sister would be beaten. I tend to think of the times she was beaten with the buckle end of a belt while I hid and cried. You could hear the blood-curdling screams through the house. It’s a scene I can’t describe – one that always makes me cry no matter where I am or what I’m doing.

I never wear belts, and this is why. I can barely look at one without thinking of this – something I know is from my PTSD.

No child, no matter what they have done, deserves to go through what my sister has been through at the hands of my mother alone. Add into that what other children did to her and I’m very lucky that she’s still alive – and still my best friend.
I’m still not sure how the cops weren’t ever called to our house. If more people called when they heard things like this, so much abuse could be prevented. I find myself angry with people who easily could’ve gotten us help. I know it’s misdirected, but still. As someone who is hypervigilant due to the abuse, it’s hard for me to not get how others didn’t see these things. It was so obvious.

 

It’s been the most validating thing to have people I knew in middle and high school contact me throughout this to let me know that they always sensed something off, but didn’t know what to do or how bad it was. To know that sane, normal people see this too as abuse is amazing.

And then there is my therapy and how much that is helping. I’m getting new ideas, new ways to cope with all this crap.

One of the ways I’m dealing with these experiences is to tell my story here, but also to tell my story on my body.

The mother’s day after cutting contact with my mother, I got my first tattoo – the stars from the pages of the Harry Potter books. They mean so much to me. I love Harry Potter for many reasons – the triumph against evil, abuse, stalking, etc. The stars on my foot remind me that I write my own pages now and that I’ve turned the page – and will always keep moving forward. They’re also a reminder to not put up with Dursley-like abuse any longer.

 

I just recently got two more tattoos.

Heart from the Heart & Brain comics is SO me, from the impulsive and silly attitude right down to loving Batman. He now adorns my right shoulder. I’m also treating this as a tattoo for my niblings between Sam’s congenital heart condition and Marissa’s love of superheroes.

I also have this on my left wrist. It’s is a little tricky to explain.

I’m not religious, but I consider myself spiritual.

In any case, this tattoo has nothing to do with that.

I see so many people with illnesses getting tattoos that include the word ‘hope.’ I know it sounds weird, but I hate that word. Hope is so inactive. It leaves things up to the universe or deities or others. When we hope for a cure, we wish, but don’t always act.

Believe, instead, feels active. If I believe in something, I will throw my support behind it. I will do what I can to help that task get accomplished.

I choose believe over hope also because hope is so up in the air. There is no timeline, no plan, no certainty that the task will ever be accomplished. Believe comes with certainty – something that I have regarding cures to illnesses.

Simply put, to find cures and better treatments or raise awareness, we must act and engage others. We cannot sit idly by while researchers and doctors don’t hear us or act on our words. We cannot hope it will be better without taking actions to make it so.

This serves a dual purpose too. Blue is not only the color of the arthritis ribbon, but also the one for child abuse. My foot and wrist will always remind me of where I came from and where I’m going. It reminds me that I’m a survivor, not only of my physical illnesses but also my mental ones stemming from the abuse.

It tells me to believe the very real things I remember, no matter how hard they are to believe.

Combined, they all remind me to be myself, to be real, to believe that I’m worth those actions… and to always be Batman. Duh.

This is probably like 5 blog posts rolled into one. Brevity isn’t always my strong suit.

Anyway.

Today is my independence day.

I’m going to enjoy it.

All the things I’ve done over the past year have been amazing, and it’s wonderful to know what life is like when you’re not paralyzed by fear… or as much fear anyway. It took me hours to build up the courage to call someone last night. But when that someone is your dad and you’re practically in the courtship phase of your relationship, it feels hella awkward sometimes.

That’s especially true when you still don’t get boundaries, normal relationships, and all those things you should learn through socialization or family.

In the end, all that matters is that my family and I are happy and healthy. We’re all working through some fucked up shit honestly. Mother can sit there and try to lie to everyone, as usual, to get them on her side and to make her the victim. Grandmother can do it too. That’s fine. For me, there aren’t sides – there’s the truth and the lies, and I know where my family of choice and I stand in that.

Meditation Monday: Link Roundup on Self-Love, Self-Care, and Buddhism

Posted on by Grayson

With everything going on lately, I haven’t worked on new blog posts for a bit. However, I’ve been collecting some links to share with you – enjoy!

If you’re feeling off and out of control of your own destiny, it’s not a bad idea to check in with yourself, especially with your intuition. I really connected with the second point on this, which is to talk to yourself like a friend. That idea is really what has turned things around for me self-love and -care wise. You have GOT to practice self-care. It’s not optional – it’s something you have to make time for and do. One big reason? It helps us handle stress better.

Something else that’s helped me a lot is learning to say no. It’s hard to break the habit of wanting to please people. As someone who grew up in a home where you didn’t want to upset someone, I find it’s even harder than I ever thought it would be. It’s definitely something I’m working and making progress on though, which eliminates a large amount of self-loathing and doubt as well. Saying no takes a lot of courage. We should always remember that.

Recognizing abusive tendencies is hugely important, and is taking the time to learn about and find yourself once you’re out. Self-discovery happens at different times for everyone – I’m just glad I got to it before I hit 27! Healing from abuse is hard work, but it’s so incredibly rewarding. Also, as a reminder to myself, it’s never okay to deny the emotions you’re feeling. That doesn’t mean you have to act on them though. Something that’s important to do is to identify emotional triggers so that you can work on handling them.

Learning to let things go is a huge step we all must take. It’s not easy to do unless you learn to say no and love yourself though. It’s very easy to make excuses to stay in a difficult place or in contact with abusive people. There’s often peer pressure associated with these things, which doesn’t make it any easier.

I really enjoy reading things that other people would tell their younger selves. This one is focused on a person in their 20s, so pretty relevant for me right now.

The last point in this article hit me hard – be a rebel with a cause. You don’t have to follow what others are doing, and you can still make an impact by being unique. Don’t compare yourself to others either. Something that might help is to make a fuck it list (yep, you read that right).

A few weeks ago, I talked about loving kindness meditation and how it helps me. If you’re working on the same practice, here are some other intentions you can use in addition to ‘may you be well’ and the like. On that note, I’ve spoken a lot about Buddhism as of late. It’s something that comforts me and gives me tangible goals to work towards, not unlike the author of this piece. If you’re interested in learning more, you can always ease into it by learning about meditation terms or short five minute introductions. You can also investigate mindfulness on a very basic level and see what you think.

Even if you’re not into Buddhism, there are still ideas you can take from it to enrich your life. A few are included in this piece on mindfulness in relationships. It can even help us to think about our final breath. Keep in mind that meditation isn’t always easy to get into or a calming experience.

If you keep debating a choice, read this piece. Make an educated decision – but make sure to make your decision. Oftentimes it seems as though we get wish-washy and refuse to make a choice, even if it’s incredibly important. Sometimes the problem is that we start living on autopilot, isn’t it? Here’s a list of ways to stop that.

Spending time with my sister recently was so very much needed, especially with Sam still struggling. It also gave me some time to travel by myself, which is always an adventure. I’m starting to love things like driving in downtown San Francisco without my GPS on to see what I can see. I’m finding comfort even out of my element, and I love it.

If you’re having a really hard day, remember to be grateful, to let go, and to listen. You can always try some things to restart the day too, or remember that you can allow yourself to be imperfect. It all goes back to the beginning of this post – you have to learn to be your best friend so you can care for yourself better.

Side note: The Elephant Journal site limits you to three (3) free articles per day, so you may need to bookmark some to read in the coming days.

Self-Care Sunday: dealing with the past

Posted on by Grayson

Real talk: you do seriously need to watch this. If you haven’t yet:

Kimmy: I can’t even do a dream date right!
Titus: Probably because you’re bottling up the past. The past is not a root beer Kimmy Schmidt!

Today, we’re going to talk about what to do for yourself when you’re dealing with rough things from the past.

Do you feel like your should-be self is interfering with your right-now life? And who you want to be? Check out this piece. And if you feel like you were over some past things but recently discovered you weren’t, please please please read this post from Blessing Manifesting. Spot on.

It’s important in so many ways to both own and tell your story. Maybe you’re on the path to finding out your story and learning why it’s so important to share. Remember that there are always ways to get through the hard times.

Kimmy: Do you think going through something like that – a war or whatever – makes you a better person? Or, deep down, does it just make you bitter and angry?

Have you been abused by family or others too? There are lots of guides out there on how to heal, but I found this one helpful. One really tough part about all of this is figuring out that you contain worth and you matter. You’re not just taking up space. People like me often find comfort in becoming a bit of a control freak. In reality, we need to let go and work on how to deal with less emotional pain. Sometimes that means working through the abuse. Sometimes that means ignoring it. For others, that means focusing on the good that’s come out of the situation.

The important thing to remember is that standing up for yourself gives you the power in the relationship and negates much of the power they hold over you. Learn to say no and set up real and proper boundaries. It isn’t easy and you will have set backs, but believing in yourself and your experiences will help get you to where you need to be.

If you’re dealing with PTSD or other issues that cause flashbacks, learn about how and why they happen.

If you can’t remove yourself from a situation by cutting contact like I did, try these steps when you’re in a high pressure situation. It’s easier said than done to keep your cool, but it can help to step back from the emotions of the situation.

Make sure that you address all the dimensions of self care that there are. Help the others around you by talking about empathy and asking for help when you need it. If you need it, check out resources on DBT and other ways to get through crisis moments. Processing traumatic events is really hard. Maybe practice some self care? If you’re really stuck on that though, try helping someone else. It always makes me feel better.

It won’t be easy but you can make it – because you’re:

Therapeutic Thursday: the importance of sharing your truth

Posted on by Grayson

It can be really hard to stick to your guns when others act like you’re in the wrong on something. It’s even harder when that something has to do with your personal well being.

If you’re anything like me, you see standing up for yourself in some aspects as not worth the confrontation or conflict that may come along. You’ve been conditioned, whether through people or other influences in your life, to see yourself as unworthy, little, and puny. Sure, everyone has days like that. For some of us, that’s what makes up the bulk of our thoughts.

The biggest problem with growing up in a home or being in any position where you’re conditioned to think like this is that it affects every aspect of your life. It will make you think your bronchitis is just a cold – that you’re upplaying the affects of any illness or just unworthy of getting treatment – and that you don’t need to seek medical help. You don’t go for promotions or better jobs because you ‘just know’ you won’t get them. It affects your confidence to the point that if, by some miracle you did apply for a job, you wouldn’t get past the interview stage because you become a nervous and anxious wreck. Your personal relationships suck because you either have no friends or you have ‘friends’ who walk all over you and make you feel worse about yourself.

It’s almost as if every user can sense you’re a good usee.

On top of that, you get to deal with that little voice in the back of your head that reminds you how not good enough to accomplish things you are. Oftentimes, that voice is the voice of the bully or abuser or oppressor that you’ve dealt with.

A good way to combat these feelings is to be assertive and to speak your truth.

I know that speaking your truth sounds silly, but that’s exactly what it is – your truth. Just because your abuser didn’t see what she did as abuse doesn’t mean it isn’t. If you felt abused, that is your truth. No one has the right to tell a victim whether or not they were victimized.

These issues will just keep popping up until you get help and work on sharing what you’ve gone through. Not everyone is as into sharing as I am, but I believe that it really does help the healing process along for others to hear and know about why you’re triggered by the smell of beer or why people yelling at others bothers you.

Sharing can be a really hard step for a few reasons – the biggest perhaps is that sharing makes what you’ve gone through real. I began to talk with other abuse survivors and the things and stories we had in common were frightening honestly. It became more real to me.

Right now I am dealing with the realest feelings from the abuses I’ve suffered. I’m dealing with flashbacks that I have a really hard time getting out of. I’m dealing with pent up anger at remembering more and more things that happened as I was growing up. All this is happening because I’m sharing more in my relationships and in therapy. But it also means I’m working through these issues.

I am solid in the knowledge that I suffered through things a child shouldn’t even have to think about let alone endure or witness. I know for a fact that the adults in the home where I grew up have some serious personality and mental health issues that need to be addressed but likely never will. I am dealing with the fact that my family was not dysfunctional but abusive and that it stunted my emotional growth horribly.

I own everything that I am, including what has happened to me. In order to embrace myself – faults and all – I must embrace the scared little girl that still resides inside of me. I have to help her find her voice.

My mother can’t seem to keep herself out of my life. She continues to read what I’m doing here on this blog and trying to creep on me via multiple social media sites. My sister has been asked to rein me in to stop me from talking about what I’ve gone through.

I’m not a little girl anymore. I can’t be scared by comments that my sister will be taken away and my mother put in jail if I talk about the abuse or what happened in our home. I won’t be frightened into silence anymore.

And if you don’t like what I have to say, I have only one thing to say to you:

Your opinion doesn’t matter anyway.

You need to watch The Unbreakable Kimmy Scmidt

Posted on by Grayson
I’ve got a new obsession – The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt. The show follows Kimmy as she tries to start living a normal life after being trapped in a bunker for 15 years by a doomsday reverend. In the first episode, she and the three other ‘mole women’ appear on the Today show. As their shuttle leaves the set and is driving to the airport, she has them pull over and decides to stay in New York. Everyone back in Indiana, she’s afraid, will always see her as a victim. She wants to be someone other than that.

Throughout the show, Kimmy has a number of PTSD episodes. They, and her social awkwardness, interfere with work, her love life, and more. She takes a job as a nanny for a rich family and moves in with Titus, a fantastic singer whose life-long dream of hitting Broadway keeps getting smashed.

I actually started watching this show mid-PTSD attack. I couldn’t get a sexual assault experience out of my head. I knew that this show, while funny, also addressed PTSD issues. I thought it could snap me out of the flashbacks, and I was right.

This show is funny, but it also deals with some hard topics. She mentions a few times that there was ‘weird sex stuff’ when she was being held, but the show doesn’t focus on that. It doesn’t focus on her having to live with strangers or the logistics of girls mentally handling captivity. The whole show focuses on her life afterwards. She’s working to move on, fit in, and make something of herself, even though she’s still got so much growing up to do.

There is a scene in the first episode that resonated with me really well. She hasn’t told her roommate about her past (and really doesn’t tell anyone) because she wants to be normal. She goes through being robbed and then losing her job, and comes back to the apartment freaking out. She goes into a rant talking to herself about how she’ll never be normal.

It resonated with me so well because I have these often – not as often as I used to, but still at least once every day.

I also try to rap far more than this white girl maybe should.

But, I mean, clearly Kimmy and I both got skills so why hide them. Am I right?

We’re so similar though – it’s almost creepy.
I wasn’t kept in a bunker for 15 years, but I was homeschooled and cut off from others for about seven years – and not allowed to do much even after that. I wasn’t abused by Reverend Richard Wayne Gary Wayne, but I was abused by another little girl growing up in addition to my mother’s (now finally) ex-boyfriend (whom she continued to see after I told her about the abuse). I didn’t just magically have to start living on my own with no skills whatsoever – I did have some. I am, though, incredibly dorky just like Kimmy.
I don’t know that I’d have it any other way though.

I do still believe in good, in the fact that people are inherently good but we’re all just so preoccupied with ourselves and our take out, instant gratification culture to see it. I love bunnies and my piggies and every single animal – even snakes. Most of all, I believe Sandra don’t need a man. You can do this all by yourself girl!

And I know that we can get through anything if we just take it tiny steps at a time. You know why? Because we’re tough!

And if you still don’t feel like you can handle something, you can always try to fool yourself.

I just finished watching the first season, exclusively on Netflix, who was smart enough to order a second season before filming even started. My therapist said she started watching it as well and she definitely appreciated the parallels between her patients’ lives and what this girl goes through.

Have you watched it? I’d love to hear what you think about the show!

Maddened Monday: Unikitty, Lego, and Anger

Posted on by Grayson

Have you seen The Lego Movie? Because you really really should for many reasons.

My favorite character in the whole movie is Unikitty. She’s a unicorn kitty.

She’s also like literally me as a Lego. If you have time for a video, check out one here with her best moments, some of which are in gif form below.

She’s generally very happy, but has a wee bit of an anger problem. That also, in the end, turns out to be a great thing because she’s able to save her friends thanks to going on a rampage.
Another nice thing is that I’ve also learned that some anger can be healthy and even protect us from events or people:

Put another way, anger is to be respected and heard. It shows us where our boundaries are, and when they have been crossed. It acts as a guide, letting us know when we’ve taken a wrong turn in life, or need to try a different path. Anger is a compass, pointing us in the next right direction.

All that said, I try to not be angry. It bothers me to have more negative emotions like that because they often take a toll on my physical well-being too. A large part of that is because I hold things back instead of expressing emotions because it isn’t always polite or proper – or because I’m worried what I will do with that anger if I try to express it. Physically, I generally end up hurting myself if I work out angry because I ignore my body’s warning signs and don’t stop when I should.
I think I’m also very fearful of turning into any of the adults I grew up with because they all were far too expressive of their anger, physically and verbally. I don’t want to turn into that, so I hold everything inside. Because I don’t express my feelings readily, I end up in denial about a lot of things. I’ve always felt that the denial balances out the potential to turn evil. I try to tell myself that anyway.
All of this is a huge part of why I meditate. I really honestly need to meditate more than I do right now, because I’m falling behind. Thich Nhat Hanh has a great quote about mindfulness and anger here:

Mindfulness does not fight anger or despair. Mindfulness is there in order to recognize. To be mindful of something is to recognize that something is there in the present moment. Mindfulness is the capacity of being aware of what is going on in the present moment. “Breathing in, I know that anger has manifested in me; breathing out, I smile towards my anger.” This is not an act of suppression or of fighting. It is an act of recognizing. Once we recognize our anger, we embrace it with a lot of awareness, a lot of tenderness.

He goes on to say that we should approach these negative emotions like an older sibling would an angry younger sibling. You let that little one experience those emotions without trying to downplay or stifle them, then you help him or her to rebuild.
All of this is honestly a huge part of my fight for self-care and self-love. If I loved enough and thought highly enough of myself to practice more compassion towards myself, I could be able to process my feelings more easily – especially the negative ones like anger.
I’m getting there, but hey I’m a work in progress.
So why am I talking about all this?
I had a moment last night where I learned and remembered more information on the things my mother has done to abuse others, from neglecting to get them care to flat out hurting them and not understanding when she’s not received as warmly afterwards.

It was really bad. I was shaking with anger, but then got creepy-calm angry. I’m not sure which was worse, but both bothered me immensely. I was too sleepy to think too irrationally thank goodness, because my awake self would’ve wanted to go to my mother and chew her out. There are things as a parent that you don’t share with your children or expose them to or withhold from them. What I learned last night violated all three of those things and more.

I had literally the same reaction as Unikitty does here. I’m obviously still upset about it this morning.
I refuse to break my no contact with my mother. I know it’ll do no good, and that it’ll just stir up more depression and anxiety on my part. My therapist and the amazing friends I have in my life all agree. I feel upset that there will never be justice though. My mother will never have to pay for the abuse she doled out, nor will her mother or grandfather. None of them will get a trial or face a night in jail. They’ll never face charges for the sexual abuse that they learned about and did nothing to help with, save in some cases removing the abuser (oh hey, fyi, carrying on an intimate relationship with the abuser after that nullifies the removal).
Meanwhile, my sister and I are left with the remnants of lives, trying to pick up the pieces and figure out how to be real people. It’s always been her and me against the world. I’m grateful that we have some amazing friends who are now a part of our real family now, giving us help, guidance, and validation when needed. I’m even more thankful that we have great partners in our lives to help both of us work through all of this.
There are people who obviously aren’t happy about this situation – about how open I’m being with the things I endured growing up. There are people who think these things are best reserved for closed door conversations if they’re talked about at all – you know, family secrets. I believe in being open with this situation just as I have with my disease, because I know that it will help someone. If I can make it so that someone doesn’t feel as alone and as tortured about their family life as I have, then it’ll be worth it.

Secrets and Society’s Love of Blaming the Victim

Posted on by Grayson

A few people have asked about why I’m being so straight forward about regarding some of the issues I’ve gone through recently, so I wanted to address those.

It’s a popular notion that many things are too personal to discuss. Two of the biggest categories in my opinion that are kept quiet are ongoing/chronic illnesses and abuse.

On the illness side, I talk about it because I had no one to reference growing up. If I can help just one family or one person deal with this illness, then I’ll consider this blog and the crud I go through worth it. Some of my favorite people in all of time and space are those I’ve met because they were brave enough to discuss their illnesses. As I said in my last post, I hate this disease and the others it brought along, but I love the people I know because of it (side note: did you see the new page all about resources like other bloggers? Check it out here).

I figure I’ve written about my sex life. You guys know enough about me that I also feel comfortable sharing my journey coming to terms with the abusive household in which I was raised. There was a point in time where I was ashamed or confused about a lot of it. I held it in and that contributed to how ill I felt. Now that I’m getting things out in the open, I feel better physically and mentally.

I also figure that many more people grow up in abusive situations than they realize. I had inklings, but never had equated my experiences with abuse until a friend asked me questions and led me to answers. I finally have peace in my heart and my mind. If I can bring that or the feeling that you’re not alone, not the messed up one, to anyone else, then I will be happy.

I think interestingly enough that these two issues I have talked about more recently both are due to society’s love of blaming the victim. Those of us with invisible illnesses are often met with phrases of passive aggressive judgment on how we handle our illnesses. We’re told yoga or going paleo will cure us by people with no information, no handle on what we go through. It is made to seem that we either caused our illness – like smokers getting lung cancer (which is another story, because that’s not the only contributing factor) – or we don’t do anything to get ourselves better. Neither of those are fair judgments to pass on people, because we have no idea what they’re going through or have gone through. You see the same thing in abuse or assault situations – the girl could’ve said no or the kid could’ve told a teacher. These phrases release the real culprit of any blame, and instead turn it to the victim who internalizes this message and tries to do everything to not cause waves. You don’t want to excel in school, but you also know failure isn’t an option because you’ll be ridiculed or worse. You do just enough to pass through things, not shining but not failing either. There are some, like me as a high schooler, who throw everything into academics or other activities as a means of escape.

I’ve recently been berated for sharing what’s happened from a couple of people as well. It seems that secrets are treasured in ‘families’ and we should be quiet about things that have transpired. That kind of thinking just perpetuates abuse, and makes it okay for us to ignore. If you don’t like what I have to say, then don’t listen.

I refuse to stop sharing things that will help other people while helping me heal. I refuse to stop talking about self care, self love, and self worth. I refuse to keep the majority of my life a secret. I don’t care if the world knows what my secrets are, because I will always continue to be true to myself and my loved ones.

 

Reflections on 21 Years of Illness, Part 3: Happy Birthday Arthur!

Posted on by Grayson

TODAY marks 21 years of living with this disease for me. It’s not necessarily a day I want to celebrate, but it is also a day that I cannot let go by unmarked. I have written a few different blog posts this week reflecting on the live I’ve lived so far, the lessons learned, and the amazing steps that have been made in chronic illness and rheumatology care since 1993. This is part three in the series.

Yesterday, I logged into my facebook account and saw a post from another adult living with JA in a JA support group that’s generally frequented by parents of children with JA. She discussed some of her frustrations having grown up with JA – the limitations she’s always had, the things she’s missed out on, the anger she feels when an older person complains about what they’re suddenly unable to do now that they have RA, etc. She reflected on how she just left all the adult RA support groups, because she couldn’t handle the complaints about giving up high heels and such anymore.

Last year, I was very much this young woman. This year, everything in my life has changed, and I hope it does for her as well. There is a place for anger, but there is beauty in moving past it and using it as fuel for change.

When I first got sick, things happened quickly and yet slowly at the same time – medical tests, doctor appointments, my kindergarten class sending ‘get well’ and ‘we miss you’ cards, eliminating certain foods, changing detergents and soaps, getting chicken pox on top of my itchy then-unknown rash, etc, etc, etc. Nothing helped. I was just so tired of being poked and prodded and not being a normal kid. When the misdiagnoses of leukemia was brought up, and I was given six weeks to live, I made a bucket list.

I still haven’t done everything that was on it. I don’t even remember what all was on there, not that it matters now. My priorities are different and I’ve done things I never dreamed would be possible.

When I was finally diagnosed a few months later at age 6, medical literature stated that I’d be in a wheelchair by age eight. There was other literature that stated just how difficult SJIA in particular was to treat, and that disfigurement and life threatening issues popped up for every one of the afflicted children. I had already thought I was dying, and the household I lived in sadly encouraged that because it increased both my panic and my attachment to the women I was raised by. As my eighth birthday approached, I cried myself to sleep every night thinking that I would magically wake up on April 26, 1996, unable to walk – that I would be unwrapping a wheelchair instead of Lego sets. When that didn’t happen, I was not relieved. Instead, my anxiety increased, and I began to go to bed with fear in my heart. I was pulled out of school and left to school myself. I was isolated from friends and adults who could’ve helped see the negative issues in my household and get us help. I was refused a medication that could’ve gotten me into remission or my disease under control, avoiding the disfigurements my bones now have. In fact, I was refused all medical treatment period within two years. I wasn’t really even allowed to learn about my disease – that was never a curiosity fostered in my home. My sister had it even worse with the things withheld from her and the issues she endured – and is still going through – because of it.

I begged to go to school every single year. Some years, it was that I ‘didn’t ask early enough’ so there was no way I’d be able to get into a school. Others it was that I clearly was too sick to go. When I was finally allowed to go back, I was overweight, overdosing on Aleve, and incredibly socially awkward. I was picked on and bullied – even by teachers. Middle school is always hard, but damn. I’m lucky enough that I fell in with a great group of kids as friends.

In high school, things in the household got worse. Violence escalated in newer ways at home, and being there sucked. I loved learning about the different cultures and religions in the world. I loved escaping my body when I could. I had been meditating and doing yoga since I was 12, but this gave more meaning to it all. My pain escalated and I thought that I could lose weight by starving myself, and that made things a million times worse. I then threw myself into my academics, and excelled, but still felt crummy more days than not.

In college, my pain escalated with the lovely new cold of Wisconsin I was being exposed to. I tried to get help on campus, but instead of knowing how to help at all, I was told that I knew my body better than the medical professionals at the health clinic – that I was a big girl and that I should know how to take care of myself. I couldn’t find any medical records to help myself. I began to blog, and I found others like me! I met amazing people over the internet, who along with my now-hubby helped push me to get care. I began medications, moved to a new city, and tried to take graduate classes while working. I was able to keep it up for a while, but not long enough. I’ve been removed from school for three years at the end of this semester. I miss it, but I also no longer need it for the purpose it once served – escape and a doorway to freedom.

This past year has been amazing. I’ve finally put names to what my sister and I both went through growing up. We’re understanding it, and others are as well. Friends are asking, not to be nosy but to help and to learn – heck, a wonderful friend is how I really learned about these forms of abuse in the first place! I’ve cut out toxic people from my life, knowing I owe them nothing simply because of genetics. I’ve also welcomed people into my life who really deserved to be there all along because of genetics. I’ve gotten married – something that the small scared child I once was thought would never happen – and it was the best day of my entire life. Arthur stayed calm – stayed away – until everything was wrapping up. He let me have my day, and so now I am more patient with his days. That bucket list lil K made has far been dwarfed by what this year alone has brought.

A lot of feelings come up in each of the paragraphs above. I’ve dealt with depression issues since I was young – partly because of this disease and partly because of the family I was born into. I’ve dealt with a lot of anger dealing with the issues surrounding both too. Strong and negative emotions tend to affect my disease more. Stress makes it worse. Because of this disease, I have spent a long time hating my body because of what it cannot do, and hating others because of what they are able to do. I’ve spent most of my life being isolated, in one way or another. This blog has been, and continues to be, a way that I can open up. It has led me to meeting other sick chicks and health activism and patient advocacy. It has even led me to apply for the Stanford Medicine X conference (cross your fingers!!) and to Washington, D.C. this past March to hobnob with politicians.

I still hate this disease. I hate what it’s done to this body I live in. I hate what it continues to do while only kinda under control. I hate that it often controls what I do. I hate that it makes me look like a poor job candidate or a poor worker. I hate that it’s brought little buddies like fibro into the picture too. I hate what it has done to others that I know, from disfigurements to overwhelming medical debt to death. Without it, like the girl on facebook earlier, I don’t know who I would be or what I would do. I wish I could change the pain levels and the lack of treatment that caused much of those.

On the other hand, I know so many people around the world that I can’t imagine life without. They help push me to fight harder, to be a better person, and to change the world – but also to remember to take breaks when I need to and practice self care and self love. Like my hubby does, each of these people remind me that anything is possible when we put our minds to it.

This weekend will not be a sad one lamenting Arthur as last year’s kind of was. Instead, I plan on practicing some self care and love. T and I are heading to a hockey game this afternoon, baking some treats, spending time with our guinea pigs, and finally finishing up with our wedding picture edit requests.

Wedded Bliss & A Crazy 2014

Posted on by Grayson

I can’t believe I’ve been married over a fortnight. It’s all a little weird. Aside from feeling more comfortable in my relationship, I didn’t think anything would really change. And yet, here I sit feeling like a very different me than I expected. Some of that, no doubt, comes from the fact that I spent so much time thinking about and planning this wedding that I feel a little empty now. I’m not sure what to do with myself, other than to mother our new guinea pigs Gus Gus and Jaq… which means they’re kind of possibly spoiled piggies.

The wedding went so much better than I could’ve ever expected. There was no drama. Things did actually stay pretty close to our schedule. I got to spend time with each of the important people in my life, and those people all got to meet each other. I danced most of the night, but what can you expect when they send a DJ who could be your musical twin and teaches you how to do the dances? I got to dance with my sisters, even the ones who aren’t related to me at all, and with the awesome men in my life. I also got to spend some time with some of the cool spoonies I know, for which I’ll always be grateful.

One of my favorite parts was being able to dance with my dad, even for a short time. For most girls, that’s a no-brainer. Personally, I wasn’t sure that would ever happen. You see, up until the beginning of August I had never gotten to meet my dad, and I had only talked to him a few times. I feel like I share an awful lot with you guys, but I haven’t been able to share everything lately. One of the big things I learned this year was that there was a reason my little family seemed askew, and it’s definitely been a part of the lack of new posts here. I really don’t want to go into too much detail, because it’s hard and I’m still recognizing a lot of it, but I learned that abuse comes in many forms. Dysfunction and abuse are different. Unfortunately, most abusers do not change and we have to cut off contact to live our lives safely and happily. My dad didn’t even know I existed until I was five, until this disease had hit and brought with it too many bills to handle. A custody battle ensued. They were told I was fine and happy where I was, while I was told he only wanted custody so he didn’t have to pay child support. I was told growing up that the lack of insurance was why I couldn’t try new things or get hurt, when dad had to keep insurance on me the whole time. I didn’t see a doctor or dentist from the time I was maybe eight until I was a senior in college, due to that supposed lack of insurance, and now have spent a very large amount of time and money to try to fix those things… which I’m still working on. My dad gave us money so I could get a hot tub to do water therapy daily. The money was spent elsewhere, and that was always a dangling promise *if* I did well enough or acted nicely enough. I’ve already talked a little about the abuse I’ve gone through due to people outside of the family too, and I’ve realized a little more about who knew things about that and didn’t do anything. I could go on, but I won’t, mostly because it’s hard. I don’t want to be a bitter person or focus on the past, as much as it seems it would be good to get a lot of it out.

I won’t lie – I’m having a hard time dealing with everything. Dealing with coming to terms with how I grew up is being very difficult, and part of me is so very angry. I feel like I’m having to discover who I really am now too, and that’s not an easy thing to do when you’re in the middle of living your life! It’s a lot to take in a very short amount of time, especially when I’m physically feeling okay. I wish my physical pain matched my emotional turmoil. It usually does, and the fact that it really isn’t is both great and unsettling since I’m so used to it.

I think one of the most comforting things to know is that I am not alone in anything I do now like I felt I was growing up. I’m so grateful to have a sister I’ve known since she was born, and now to add a brother and another sister onto that is amazing. I have a dad and a stepmom who are more amazing than I could’ve hoped for. I don’t know that I could be their kid more than I am if they had raised me. I have T’s family, who are so caring and so helpful. I have some of the best friends in the world, including other spoonies and the person who helped me to really open up my eyes to the abuse I’ve gone through and has really and truly helped me get through all this without going bonkers. And, of course, I have T too.

All these great people make up my FOC, or Family of Choice. I couldn’t be happier to have them as a part of my life going forward.