Posts Tagged ‘being vulnerable’

The Blame Game.

I’ve made a realization over the past months that my biggest problem isn’t  that I grew up with a Borderline Personality Disorder mother.  Nope.  It’s that I’ve latched on to blaming her and her BPD for all that is wrong and unsavory in my world.

A year ago, I finally found out why I could never have the relationship i yearned for with my parents.  It was incredibly freeing.  ”Thank God, I’m not the crazy one”  But…I fixated on it.  I devoured countless books on BPD and Adult Children of BPD Parents, plus many more general self-help titles.

I was weary from this forced transformation I was attempting.  I wanted to be healed – right now.  RIGHT NOW DAMNIT!

I wanted to get to a point that I could look back from and say, “whew, I’m glad I don’t have to deal with/think about that anymore.”

I will always be that little girl with a whacked out mom.  I’m realizing that this journey of healing is so much like the recovering addict’s journey.  Once an addict, always an addict.  There is no magic pill, or mantra to clean your slate.

Letting go of the blame is part of the healing process for sure.  And honestly, it’s one I could never imagine being able to do.  I was happily loathing them from afar…wishing they would up and decide to move to Timbuktu.

I picked up SARK’s Transformation Soup a month or so ago.  And the words nearly pierced through my heart.  “Stop Blaming Your Mother.”

At first I scoffed, well you don’t know my mother.  Then as I read on, it began to resonate with me.  I was unwillingly for sure.  I stopped reading the book midway through, pulled my bookmark and buried that book behind some old high school year books.

Those words haunted me in my dreams.  In my dreams, my mom and dad were nurturing me, being the parents I have always wished for.  In my dreams, my mom and dad apologized, and in my dreams, I forgave my mom and dad.

The dreams I had previously frequented — the ones where I was yelling and screaming at my parents to get away from me and my kids, the dreams that sometimes even escalated to violence — made sense to me.  I was angry, hurt, confused and I wanted to keep my parents as far from me and my family as possible.

These new love-laced dreams were disturbing.  What was my psyche trying to tell me?

“Heal, sweet Salem, just heal.”

I will never get an apology in real life.  But it’s not relevant any more.  I know who my parents are, and I can accept it {or at least working on accepting it}.

Forgiveness is not about forgetting the past.  It’s about allowing yourself to stop blaming — yourself, your mother, your father…whoever.

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I have a fear of becoming my mother.

Probably a little more so than your average woman does.

Of course, the whole genetics thing is difficult to overcome.   The older I get the more and more I look like her (even though everyone always said I looked just like my dad when I was a kid – go figure!).  I hate catching glimpses of her while looking in the mirror.

I am realizing though, that I have very little control over physical traits – like how my face is shaped!

And that those traits don’t really matter much to my kids.

They just see their own mom when they look at me.

But my actions, my emotions, my parenting, and pretty much everything else – I do have control over.

And through those parts of myself, I try to give my kids the childhood that I wish I could have had.

The first and foremost being an emotionally stable mother.

 

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A wish list from my inner child:

hugs and i love you’s – everyday – heck, multiple times a day even!

books read to me – I don’t ever remember either parent ever reading to me, ever.

a healthy diet – I grew up on processed, refined and pre-packaged junk food – ugh!

cuddle time – like at bedtime or just while watching tv – I hated feeling so alone and disconnected all the time.

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Source: Pinterest

 

Healing.

That’s my keyword for 2013.

It’s taken me over an month to come to it.  I’ve never been big on New Year’s Resolutions. January and February are for hibernating, not hitting the gym!  I like to let the energy of the new year settle in for a while, before I decide where it is going to lead me on my journey.

In reflection 2012 was a little edgy.  Last January and February (in full disaccord to my own beliefs about hibernation) I bleached out my long brown tresses – like platinum blonde! – and then decided on a whim to cut those crunchy fried locks.  I weilded the scissors myself one afternoon during nap time!  I didn’t go all Britney Spears (remember the shaved head incident?)  But I did lop off about 6 inches and ended up with it at chin length after my shocked stylist fixed it all up for me again.   I was frantically trying to change myself and leave my past behind.  But I was only looking on the outside – which really is the easiest part to change.

Springtime brought with it an epiphany of sorts and I started going to counseling.  That’s when everything started making a lot more sense.  By Fall, I had finally decided to confront my problems rather than continue to avoid them.  And well, that was partially freeing, but mostly painful.  At least I spoke my truth.  Even if it was only met with more accusations of how wrong and horrible I am.

With winter just weeks old, the universe decided to throw me into the fire of grief, love, pain and hope.  I took lots of naps, but did very little writing.  I found solace in cooking and sewing instead.  The decided snaps while chopping vegetables.  The simple rhythm of the sewing machine.  It was very meditative for me, shutting down the crazy, babbling monkey in my brain.

I had lengthy and emotional conversations (and rants) with Owen.  I voiced my worries and fears for my sister.  I voiced my frustrations and disappointment and anger toward my parents and their actions (or inactions in most cases).

It all kept me from imploding into myself.  I wasn’t about to slip into that deep and dark hole.  I just needed to get through it all and find some time to breathe and just be.

I never got around to the healing last year.

The truth seemed to do a good job of crumbling the past (and some of the present).

Now it’s time to clean up the mess and make way for a new beginning…

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I’ve rediscovered SARK’s writing and am hoping to give this healing process a little extra help with her books Transformation Soup and Glad No Matter What. Have you read these titles? Do you have any must-reads on healing?

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She stood up a little straighter.  Shoulders back, chin up.  Her right hand instinctively reached up to smooth her flowing chocolate strands flying in the autumn breeze.

Does he remember me?  It’s been so many years.  We were practically children…

Her thoughts wandered through fuzzy memories of adolescent yearnings and confusion.

She looked around.  Children running, tossing balls, in the grassy bowl of the elementary school yard.

Her own children were down there somewhere.  His were too.

When did this happen?  When did we become the grown-ups?  The old people?  When did we become our parents?

Theryn still felt like that fourteen year old girl who was trying so hard to leave her childhood behind.  She had been running away for over twenty years.

As she stood on the sidelines of the children’s games, she pulled out her phone and acted like she was engrossed in reading and tapping out messages.  She couldn’t bring herself to look up again.

Josh watched her from the shaded lenses of his sunglasses, masking his line of sight.  He was certain it was her.  There was no mistaking Theryn, even spending most of their lives apart, that small flutter in his stomach told him without question it was her.

As his stood there amidst the memories of a life past, the fluttering turned into knots, and his conscience reminded him of the stupid, selfish actions of 15 year old boy.

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I’ve been silent here (and really, everywhere) for awhile.  It wasn’t something I did intentionally.  In all honesty, I haven’t put pen to paper for weeks at time over the past several months.  I dove into my life as a wife and mother, hoping to busy myself enough for those worries, fears, and nagging memories of the past to fall away and let me be.  Life doesn’t work that way though, and the more I have squashed away those feelings and memories, the more Life has thrown my way to stir it all up again.  

“Face your Fears head on”, Life has told me in these past months.  So here I am again, hoping to find peace in sharing my words, my life, my art – in other words – My Heart –  on these pages and posts in this little gray garden I’m growing.  

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July is waning…only about one week until August graces us with his golden presence.

When I started this blog back in April, I can honestly say I had no idea where I was going to go with it.  But I just had this pull – this nudging – to do it.  Gray Daisies was something that stayed in my head, directly related to the phrases, “my little garden of truth” and “…because life is not black & white”.

Source: goo.gl on Pinterest

 

I wanted to share my story.  My experiences as a child, young adult, and now a full-fledged grown-up (wife, mother, etc.)  There has always been a part of me that knew my situation was different than most.  Not completely horrific, like some stories you may hear, but still, completely unhealthy and completely dysfunctional.

During these past weeks, I’ve thought about closing up shop here.  Taking some time to sort through my recent realizations and confirmations about my childhood and my relationship (or lack thereof) with my own parents and my mother’s mental illness (Borderline Personality Disorder).

But that doesn’t feel entirely right to me either.  I want to document this journey for myself and hopefully for others out there that may have similar experiences.

The more I think about it, the more I am convinced that this blog of mine needs to become a sounding board for the adult children of borderline parents.  Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) is something that is very prevalent in our society, yet is hardly ever spoken of, or even diagnosed for that fact!

While I realize that someone suffering from BPD has many issues to confront and overcome, I also know first-hand that someone who was raised by a BPD parent has many of their own issues to confront and overcome as well.

So…welcome to Gray Daisies – a place where I will share my story of being raised by a parent with Borderline Personality Disorder and my journey to overcome and thrive.

Gray Daisies is still my “little garden”.  It won’t always be so serious and depressing here.  I certainly don’t like to wallow in misery – and having a sense of humor is essential for surviving this world of ours!  But this BPD thing has certainly defined my life and who I am (for better or worse!) and it will be a strong theme in my posts.

Enjoy the last days of July!

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{taken early morning, August 26, 2010, from my living room window}

It seems like only yesterday I was sitting in this living room, thinking how my life was feeling more and more like that movie Groundhog Day.  I was waiting for E .(nearly 2 weeks overdue) to arrive and part of me was completely terrified for his arrival because deep-down I knew that somehow, someway, giving birth to him was going to be a monumental pivot point in my life – my family’s life.  And not in the typical-new-baby-fashion.

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{my big E. belly! also on August 26, 2010}

Sometimes things just feel indescribably more important than what you think they should feel like.

I felt that it was the one event in my life that would suddenly click into place and “poof”, my Groundhog Day would end and a new course would begin.

(Boy, did it ever!  A near-death experience, traumatic post-partum issues, discovering the whole BPD thing)

I’m so very grateful for my wonderfully simple yet utterly profound life.  My husband.  My kids.  My house.  My dog.  Even my car.  My entire life – in general – in its entirety – from the miniscule to the extraordinary.

I feel like a warrior now – a weary one at times – but still a warrior.

I have returned home from my battles to heal, inside and out.  There will be scars.

There are scars, inside and out.

I will continue to heal, knowing with confidence that I am stronger than I could ever have imagined.

My sword, my shield, hanging proudly above my heart’s mantle.  A reminder to myself and a warning to any threatening forces.

–> I am a warrior <–

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I’ve been reading through some of my old, personal journal entries lately.  Partly for my therapy sessions and partly because I like to be reminded where I’ve been from time to time.  This one struck me as pretty important, and I think sharing it with the world (you!) is pretty important too.  Just so you know, this is pretty much verbatim from my journal…I’ve only edited out the mis-spellings and some grammar to help it flow better.

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Wednesday, August 27, 2008

The future is now.  And here I am…8 months later and I’m still avoiding a decision.  Stay or Go?  I’m still in the holding pattern.  Probably the biggest, most in-your-face-reason why I avoid this journal.  Fear.

Fear of making a decision.  Fear of making the wrong decision.  Fear of making the right decision.  I never thought I feared change, but this change is so big and life-altering…the best kind of change out there, really.

Transformation lies ahead of me.  I worry.

I worry if “they” will accept my transformation.  I worry if I will be able to stay a good mother and a good wife.

It (this change) will set me free.  At least that’s what I’ve heard.  You know, from those countless intuitive/soul-searching books?  I am FREE.  Who says I can’t continue to live in abundance?

Source: mr-little.com on Pinterest

Sometimes letting go of things no longer needed is the best way to “have more”.  Be more.

I cleaned out half my clothes in my closet over the course of the past year.  Letting go is so invigorating.  But it is so hard to let go of my paycheck.  I feel silly and stupid and greedy all for the same reason.  I want to be with my babies.  I don’t want my parents to have such a major role in my daily/weekly life.  I don’t want to be stuck in the same dysfunctional parent-child relationship as an adult.  I want to feel like I am important.  I am a mother.  And a damn good one to boot.  My parents don’t really see me for who I am.

I want freedom.  But I fear that freedom I crave will imprison me in other ways.  Financial, and as a result, emotionally with Owen.  He says he supports me.  And I think that he really does.  I think that my fear is skewing my judgement, as fear so readily and easily does.  I want to jump down the rabbit hole.  I want to do so with wild abandonment –> I won’t look back.

Owen wants me to ask about a “leave of absence”.  And – really – it does make logical sense.  But emotionally, it is just a connection to the past.  Will it be a strong enough connection with the past to affect my life?  Hmmm….?  Hard to say, really.  I have learned through writing and reading and many serendipitous encounters that I have the sole key to my own happiness.  And I’m finally “getting it”.  Slowly (and sometimes in big waves and rushes of inspiration) I now SEE ME.  I honestly think I NEED to cut the ties of my job, my career.

All of this stuff that surrounds me…it’s just stuff.  My fear is just the “sad-bad-mad” little pill living inside my head.  It’s followed me from my past.  Sure, nothing’s perfect, but it seems like I have been choosing, searching for ways to wallow in pain and wallow in misery.  Seraching for reasons to feel more pitiful.  What a crock of crap!

I am truly blessed.  And I don’t need to find any missing pieces of my soul/my self in this life.  I AM WHOLE.  I was born WHOLE.  Just like D. and B. are whole, pure little souls.  I have that power within me.  I Am Free To Be Me.  I know that I am with who I need to be with on my journey.  Owen, D. and B.  We will travel this journey together.

Anyhow – I just want to purge – everything around me.  I know it doesn’t sound rational, but it’s just spilling out of me.  I want to be in nature.  The pressures of “having” can be overwhelming.  It takes up precious time and precious energy and precious, precious moments of bliss and love.

I don’t want to be so connected to the chaos of the internet and the TV. It’s addictive – and I feel the yearnings and cravings for my “fix” even while I am outside playing with my babies.  I don’t like it.  It makes me feel black and moldy on the inside.  It’s not real.

I want to feel real, present.  I want to feel invigorated.

I am ready to take the leap.  Right now.

I want to purge & release & change everything.

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It still took me another 6 months to finally cut the cord to my career.  My parents were watching my two kids during the two days each week that I was working, which I knew wasn’t healthy for any of us…but I just couldn’t put my finger on exactly why.  This  was written nearly 4 years ago, and it is amazing to me how much has changed since then.  Perhaps this entry was the catalyst for me to finally listen to my intuition and do what was right for me and my family?  

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Gratitude is the buzz word these days.  Be thankful for all that you have, send positive energy out into the Universe and it will be reciprocated tenfold.

Yes, I believe in Gratitude.

But, first and foremost, I believe in Love.

Source: youngmarriedchic.com on Pinterest

Awhile back, I stumbled upon this blog post about writing a daily love list.

It struck a chord with me, and I’ve been writing love lists in my private journal for weeks now.

-  I love writing.

-  I love sharing my writing.  

Those were the first two things I decided to list the very first time I did the exercise.  At the time, I was feeling silly and self-absorbed for even considering that my blog would be reader-worthy.  But then, I realized, who really cares?  I blog because I feel the need to share these pieces of myself with the world.  

Like so many other writer-types out there, I am an introvert.  So if you were to meet up with me in person, I would likely be quiet and reserved, especially if I didn’t know you very well.  This is my space in the world to share those thoughts and feelings, musings, etc. that I would likely keep bumping into in my mind for years to come, never finding a voice to free them.

This love list thing – I dare you to try it sometime!   Sit down with your journal, or a laptop, or even a napkin – and write a list of 10 things that you love (about yourself, your life, the world around you!).  I guarantee the more you do it, the more you’ll love it!

Love is where we come from and where we are going.

In the wise words of The Beatles’, “Love is all you need.

I believe in Love.

I hope you believe in Love too.

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What do you love most about what makes you, You?  Have you ever made a love list or a gratitude list?  Is love really all you need (besides the basics of food, shelter, etc.)?  

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When the inspiration for this blog came about in early Spring, I really had no idea where it was going to lead me.  I just knew that I needed an outlet for my writing, because keeping my words tucked away in my private journal just wasn’t feeling right for me anymore.

I came up with {gray daisies} for two reasons:

1.  Gray – because beige or neutral or plain didn’t sound quite right, and I was looking for an expressive word to define “the ordinary”.

2. Daisies – because they are my all-time favorite flower.

And there you have it  - {gray daisies} was born.

At that time, I had no idea what Borderline Personality Disorder was – in fact, I had never even heard of it.  Since then, I’ve only had a handful of counseling sessions, but coming to terms with being an adult child of a Borderline parent, well, it’s been interesting to say the least.

Probably the most interesting thing to me in the reading I have done is how BPD defines life only in black and white.  For those who suffer with this illness, there is no gray area.

It’s ironic to me that I chose to blog about how life is not black and white, and how there is so much gray area – months before actually talking to my counselor about my mother and my childhood.  My inner self knew, just as it always has. But, still,  I had to write it down for the world to see, to prove to myself that I wasn’t the crazy one.

Living a lifetime with a parent who sees everything as right or wrong, good or bad, black or white, etc. skewed my perceptions of this world.  While the gray area exists in abundance in my rational mind, my emotional mind still struggles with pushing everything into one tidy little category of “good’ or “bad”.  

{gray daisies} will not become exclusively about Borderline Personality Disorder, but I do plan on sharing bits and pieces of info and insight, as well as some of my childhood memoirs.  This is part of my little garden of truth…my truth.  And I look forward to sharing it with you.

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