Sobriety is in progress, depression and anxiety are under management, bipolar II is diagnosed and acknowledged.

The ONLY thing left that I KEEP ignoring is my physical health.

1. The binge eating

2. the want to eat sugar (the sugar addiction and healthy food avoidance)

3. the exercise avoidance

Sleep would improve.

Joy would improve

Overall health would improve.

It's almost like - this is the last vice left... but it's not really, there's still CAFFEINE...

Maybe I need more caffeine.

Definitely need more caffeine.

 Things I Like:

massages

stickers

paper

cards

traveling

acupuncture

candles

clean fresh laundry

cozy sweatshirts

the beach

blankets

a clean house

being surprised with small gifts

someone remembering something I said and following up on it

holding hands

good quality taffy

good quality gumdrops

cinnamon bears

cinnamon, period.

flossing my teeth

cool pillows with just the right amount of fluff

cool pajamas or no pajamas

being cool in temperature in general

coffee, or really creamer with coffee in it

a particular lipstick I always get (Revlon colorstay several shades but mostly faithful fawn)

a new lip gloss that isn't super glossy that I just found (Revlon Kiss)

 Happy Valentine's Day!

I've really worked hard in recent years to set better boundaries around my wants and needs at the holidays, and while I know Valentine's Day is a gimmick, I still feel quite loved when I am noticed on this commercial holiday. My husband did his best with a box of chocolates and three different types of stickers ordered last minute on Amazon - and I LOVED it. What matters to me is that I matter. For so many years I put others' needs ahead of my own and would experience the empty disappointment year after year. It's not about the consumerism. It could have been a coffee mug he craftily powder coated for me or an act of service he saved for Valentine's Day (and I was even content with his original plan of barbecuing for me on Thursday night when our children will be out having their own lives). I found someone who honors my needs and who KNOWS me and SEES me. I deserve this type of love, and I give this type of love, as well.

Not to say that we are the perfect couple, but I reflect back on my relationships and look at the relationships of those around me and I feel a lot of gratitude for what we have built. I also feel excitement for what is still to come. I need to work on my honesty, he needs to work on letting down his walls. We will always have work to do. We have traumas that still haunt us - baggage, as some might say. But as we open these bags up and empty them out and show each other what we've been carrying, slowly we have been able to unpack the bags and leave the unnecessary weight behind. Some things still have to be carried, but if I know what he is carrying it makes it easier to empathize and be able to support the best I can. If he knows what I'm carrying, he can support me in that same way.

He knows I carry an emptiness that I have allowed to be filled by Valentine's Day gifts. He fills that cup for me.

I know he carries stress about finances and about our future. I'm working toward doing what I can to act responsibly so that he does not have to carry that heavy burden on his own.

And that box of chocolates? Of course I share it with him.  I love US. WE love US.  

 I'm currently reading "Will I Ever be Good Enough? Healing the Daughters of Narcissistic Mothers." I suppose I'm just going to dive right on into this topic, aren't I? I'm reading the book from two different angles: myself as a mother and myself as my mother's daughter. The first chapter holds a quiz wherein you can score how many of the traits you experienced from your mother, I scored 13 of 39. Perhaps I would score more if I could really truly be honest about some of the questions. It's very difficult to frame my mother in a negative light - part of me feels she doesn't deserve it - she was doing the best she could with what she had - but I also know that the reality is a lot of her parenting was harmful. It harmed my relationships with my daughters, with my boyfriends (and there are many stories here to dig into later), but mostly the relationship with my father. It astounds me that at 51 years old I do not have a way to get a hold of my father without going through my mother. She's on his email, "he never uses his cell phone" (but maybe he would if his daughter were calling and texting him?) It all feels like such a setup, it's frustrating and sad. My dad lets it happen, though. At thanksgiving I asked him if we could go out to breakfast just him and I and he said, "why?"

I suppose after years and years of living under a type of power, you don't even realize what you're in. That is my husband's experience. I still get very surprised that a man with such strength and fortitude could have been on the brink of putting his life to an end by suicide due to his wife's behaviors. I do thank my higher power all the time that my own mother is nowhere near the toxicity levels of this woman. I wanted to have a relationship with her, I really did...but there was no human way possible. It's one of the challenges life has offered me - don't bargain with borderline personality disorder and don't rock a narcissist's way of life.

I don't know that narcissist really fits the definition of my mother's behaviors, but understanding her behaviors is throughout this book in explanation. Am I just in a denial that I'm struggling to overcome? It's possible. I'll continue to work on it here.

And since so many things are handed down generation by generation: was her mother a narcissist? I don't think I can make my own assessment, as I was so young when she died and not near the understanding level of human behavior that I have now. Still, my grandmother was 46 years old when my mother was born and already had 6 other children and 2 other husbands, so I can't imagine that she had a good grip on life and it's many ups and downs. Similar to my own life, except that I did not have 7 children, only 2. 3 husbands, though. And I most certainly did NOT have a good grip on my own life in the first two marriages. Another story for another day.

My mom has been married to my dad for over 50 years now. I've often wondered what keeps them together - they have so little in common, is it just out of necessity at this point? Neither of them seems particularly happy with the other - I do think happiness is possible, I have it in my own marriage. Maybe my father is afraid to be alone. I imagine that to be the case.

And maybe it's next to impossible to leave a narcissist who has not healed. That could also be likely. Sometimes it feels like my mother's behavior is all about me but the truth is, it's her own behavior and it falls to everyone to recognize it for themselves (or not). To me, not recognizing it is turning a blind eye. I think that's what my father and brother do.  Does my husband turn a blind eye to me? My girls, not usually. Maybe myh usband does but I continue to ask him for the truth. That's our work in progress.

 Here it is.

The blank piece of virtual paper.

Let's go.

2/12/24

I saw a post today that said, "if you can't afford therapy, write. Tell your story." I should be able to afford therapy although it is something that gets cut when other things (addictions) get in the way. Today is the first day I'm not letting the addictions take up space where healthy things should be. I'm fighting it at work though. The team is mad at me, I don't know how long it will last, but it's palpable, the negative energy. It's hard to want to be on a team that does not feel like one. I'm trying to move on -scale up - but I need to have patience. I may potentially have a job offer on the table soon, but I have to be very careful about it. I have a horrible habit of giving out too much information.

My story starts in 1972, but I don't remember becoming an actual character until around 1975. Yes, I have memories of my three year old self - not many, but they do exist. I was an avid reader, so my mother tells me, I could read at three years old! I imagine myself as this cute little button nosed, brown eyed girl with thin and feathery brown hair, a saucy attitude, and a cute smile but only when she could bring herself to it. This little girl, so cute, so adorable, so loveable - she was abused. She did not know it as such. How could she know what abuse was? It was not until much, MUCH later she realized what had happened to her. What had happened to her innocence. It made sense - so much sense - once it was discovered for her. But until then, something just wasn't right in the photos. 

One day at around age 5, my uncle was driving me to my grandmother's house. This was my uncle Don - he was a nice enough man, a little loud and maybe a little too fancy for the lifestyle my five year old self understood. He asked me, "why don't you sing in the car anymore like you used to?" And I didn't know it was something that had been taken from me. I couldn't remember singing in a car and I didn't realize that I had stopped. I remember that scenario vividly, including the trailer park that we pulled up into and the green candy that didn't taste very good, but it was CANDY so it didn't matter.

There's a memory of me that I envision but don't specifically remember. I am grabbing candy from the counter and eating it, and stuffing the wrappers in the black pleather chair.  My parents loved to tell this story. To them, it was a testament to something - anything - but not a testament to my trauma or their lack of parenting that allowed a three year old access to all that candy.

There's a memory of my uncle and I near a well. I become obsessed with the book, "Ricky Ticki Timbo" and nobody finds that odd? I find it odd, even now, as my mother denies anything could have ever happened but "there was that one time you were alone in the well room." There was a well of some sort inside my grandparents' house. I wish I knew more. Or maybe I don't wish for that knowledge. I could probably get it, but access to these memories is something I have given up.

I had a marijuana habit from 2017 to 2023 when I finally realized what I had been doing to myself. Rarely a drink of alcohol made me feel proud, so in control, meanwhile I was eating edibles here and there until 2020 when I started eating them daily, and then transitioned to vaping. Much easier, much faster. Much more fun. Much more addicting. Only after I stopped did I realize how much of my life I was losing. I can tell almost the same story about 1994, only that story is much shorter and involves methamphetamines. I've been thinking about that time in my life a lot lately. It was so significant even though I would not know this at the time. I've always lived a life outside of my body, almost. I'll talk about that later.

For now, the story of today is that my team is feeling like an un-team, and I don't like the feeling. I've gotten myself into this mess, though, and so too will I find my way out.