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.
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.
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.
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.
I have been needing to write for ages.
But, I haven’t been able to.
Life has been so heavy, in so many ways.
It is more than just Co-Vid 19 (though, that has been huge). It is also the absolute discord that this virus, our president, and everything else that has been thrust upon us. Continue reading
Okay, tonight, I am writing to vent.
I know that I am lucky that I haven’t contracted Covid-19 and neither has my family. I know that I am extremely lucky to be able to work from my home (the hubs, too), and that I am getting a paycheck.
But, can we for one minute acknowledge that sucks? Continue reading
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
This feels like such a loaded word lately.
It has been an identity for me for a few years–me, the child of trauma.
Me, the teacher of traumatized children.
The word itself, when examined and detailed, feels like a trigger.
Opening up wounds, reminding me that I, too, am wounded.
Do you ever feel like chaos is easier to deal with than quiet?
Common sense says that self care equals slowing down.
And, honestly, it does.
Yet, when I start to feel that pace slowing–when things start to feel calm and quiet–I feel like I don’t quite know what to do with myself. Continue reading
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