What is love?

Therapy has taught me that those who grew up in traumatic households often gravitate to partners that resemble what they know…in other words, if, as I experienced, the adults in my life were emotionally unavailable, the partners I sought out as a teen and young adult also tended to be emotionally unavailable.

My husband and I have been married for 13 1/2 years. I met him, 33 at the time, when I was a young and idealistic 19 years old. Initially, the “idea” of him seemed appealing from a rebellious standpoint. I, the self-proclaimed good girl, thought it might be interesting to sow some wild oats and sleep with an old guy.

What I wasn’t smart enough to identify at the time was that I NEVER left people. I was never a one night stand (by choice) kind of girl. No…because I have anxious and insecure attachment issues, I tended to stay in all sorts of relationships because I could never bear the pain of hurting someone else.

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Coming back to writing…coming back to me?

I have been gone from the blogosphere for a long time. Writing, for me, is a therapeutic way to organize and process my thoughts. Not so surprisingly, then, when things are feeling good, I just don’t feel compelled to write.

I won’t lie, 2020 and 2021 haven’t been easy years by any means. To be honest, I think I flipped an auto pilot switch on and doggy paddled my way through each day. I was surviving and, in this weird, pandemic world, that felt like enough.

Until…it didn’t.

During each fall season, trees drop their dead leaves. Oftentimes, I start to feel similarly heavy, with the urge to examine and drop the things in my life that are no longer working for me, either.

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Grandma

I lost my grandma at the end of June.

While her health was not the best, her death still took me by surprise. In fact, she had decided to venture out on a miniature vacation with my mother when, unexpectedly, she became very ill.

Despite all of the Covid precautions I had been trying to take, I immediately hopped onto a plane, masked up, and flew to where she was.


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ISOLATED

I’ve been avoiding writing lately. I’m sure many people are writing similar things.

We are all living in this weird world. Self-isolation. A virus.

It feels like some typical, apocalyptic movie, where zombies will soon be roaming the streets. (Which is probably why gun sales are skyrocketing–c’mon people!!)

However, minus the zombie part, this is REAL. Continue reading

A Walking Wound

When I started the therapy process, I was hesitant to admit any of my past wounds. I wanted to focus on the present–find strategies to overcome all of the panic and anxiety I had been suffering from.

However, my amazing therapist had other plans. She knew that the reason I was experiencing panic and anxiety in the first place was because I had some kind of underlying trauma–even if I didn’t want to go there.

And then, despite all my hesitation, my panic led me there. I wanted to run and hide, but the expectation of possibly having to spill out my past threw me into a whole new level of panic. I found myself back on the phone, back in her office, much more quickly than I expected. Continue reading