“Mother is the name for God on the lips and hearts of all children.”
The Movie (The Crow)
When I think of mothers, I think of so many adjectives that describe them and the many things that they do. Sacrifice is something that comes to mind. Mothers sacrifice so much for the sake of their children. They’re able to put the life of others before their own. This is a rare trait in the world today and is one that needs to be looked upon with awareness. These selfless warriors make sure that households run as well-oiled machines. They, in many cases handle all the family finances, juggle a work schedule along with all the many appointments that come with children. Doctor visits, getting back and forth to school, sports practices and events, the lists go on and on. It doesn’t stop as the children grow older, it can even expand. Let’s look more into this phenomenon known as Mothers.
While my mother suffered from mental illness/depression, she worked hard to make sure that we had some form of foundation to work from. I’ve blogged about her many times, and I want to be clear, I loved my mother very much. I learned as an adult all the things she’d gone through in her life, which gave me pause. There was no way for me to judge the things that she was unable to do when she struggled so much herself. I needed to see through that and understand what she did manage. She managed a household with four children, all very close in age, so that meant we were all going through things at the same time. This had to be done in many cases with little to no money coming in. We were hungry on many occasions but never starved. We struggled with wearing hand-me-downs that were given to us by other families, but we had clothes to wear. We never had the best of everything, but we had something. There’s a lot to be said with all of this. We learned to be humble and grateful. We also learned the value of education. While my mother was not super pushy about getting us up and out in the morning, she always pushed us to keep up with our assignments. She’d guide us when we had questions about classes. This was all happening while she had so much going on inside of herself.
My mother had a calmness about her. While I took after my father in many ways, including the “take no shit” kind of attitude, I was balanced out with a piece of my mother’s gentle side. When I’d be all worked up about something I knew that my mother would have the right words to settle me. “This too shall pass” was a regular from her lips. There was a time when I was an adult and had a dispute with a contractor that was working on my property. The guy decided to take things to the next level and threatened me with violence. This happened during a phone call and my approach was much like my father. After the guy finished spewing his hostilities I said with a very calm voice “where are you at right now?” My plan was simple, to go where he was and handle him the way that I knew how to. As I was walking towards the door of my parent’s home, my mother stepped in front of me and said, “think about what you’re about to do. This is a time to remain calm because once you leave here and find him, you could lose everything.” Her words found their way into my brain when it was spinning out of control. She even delivered it in such a way that I immediately stopped. I felt what she was saying and knew that she was right. I would lose everything if I left. There was no other person on this earth that could’ve stopped me on that day. When I’m ready for battle, I’m all business and become tunnel-visioned. While I was much larger than my mother, she seemed impassable at that moment. These are the things that mothers are capable of. The power of a mother extends everywhere, and with everyone. I’ve met many rough individuals in my life and I’ll tell you that all of them had respect for the woman that brought them into this world. It didn’t matter who they were, or how wicked they could be. When it came to their mothers, they all became children again.
I’ve worked with mostly women for the better part of my life and have seen so many keep things together that would make most men run for cover. They deserve everyone’s respect and love. I know that I have profound respect for all the people that surround me in my life, and I do what I can to make it known. I celebrate their successes with them and try to be there when they’re just tired of the world. I’d ask that we all take a moment in our life for Mother’s Day. Make it something special. Look to the women in this world with honor and respect. Know that they’re capable of doing everything that needs to be done and without a thought for themselves. We owe them that. We owe them more than a day for sure. To all the mothers out there that are reading this, I see you on Mother’s Day and every day. You have my admiration, my respect and my gratitude. Thank you for all that you do.
I know that I’ve talked about my High School typing teacher in at least a few of my blogs. I’ll also tell you that she’s in my book that I’m currently working on right now. The reason for this, she was instrumental in helping me see that it was possible to turn my life around. I felt as though she could see through me at times and wanted desperately to confess all of my sins to her. (Spoiler alert-I never did). Let me explain this further.
When I decided to sign up for typing class in High School, I never had any desire to become some kind of great typist, nor did I really care what the outcome would be from the class. It was a time filler for me to just get by. At that point in my life, I was deeply embedded in the underworld and had far greater things to be worrying about than my classes. I was dealing with people who were much harsher about failure, so I adjusted my attitude accordingly. I started in the class and dropped myself directly in the very back seat. It was close to the door which gave me the ability to slide out quickly. When I began the class, I never gave a second thought as to what kind of teacher I would be facing, or what she might think of me. This was just where I was mentally at the time.
Ms. Joan Osborn stepped into the room and you could hear her heels clicking on the old wooden floor as she walked. She walked with purpose and had a way about her. Fearless and confident, some might see her as intimidating. To me, she was just another teacher in a long line of teachers that I’d run into over the years growing up. She put her name on the chalkboard and stated that she would be addressed as Ms. Osborn, nothing else. She laid out what the class was about and what she expected. She then stated she would be teaching us all about the typewriter, the home row, and then start doing drills to see what our abilities were. Ms. Osborn had a toughness to her, an edge if you will. It was something that captured my attention. I listened to what she had to say and found myself beginning to think that I just might be interested in this class.
As time progressed, Ms. Osborn seemed to sense something about me and decided that I needed to be placed directly in front of her desk, in the very front row. I’d done some drills and showed promise, along with speed on the keyboard. She had kind of a sly smirk when she moved me and stated that she wanted to make sure I was paying attention and getting the directions that she was giving. I’m certain that I came off as uncaring or a bit of a slacker when I first arrived in her class, but that quickly changed. I soon found myself being one of the fastest typists. More importantly, I found that I was enjoying what I was doing. Who would ever think that some punk drug runner would be excited to be typing.
I cruised through her class and did so with good grades. She had kept her eye on my progress and had me stay around after class at the end of the year. She told me about a program that she felt I’d benefit from. A business block of classes that would further my abilities. I hadn’t taken the required business block classes prior to this, but she stated that my typing abilities were good enough that she’d be willing to vouch for me and assist me to get into these block classes. I found myself agreeing to go through the process and get into these classes. She was true to her word and did vouch for me. I was able to get into this block class which furthered my desire for a new way of life.
I think that it’s safe to say that Ms. Osborn came into my life at a key moment. Was this another divine intervention? She became a key reason that I chose a different path going forward. I would go so far as to say that she may have saved my life. I was headed down a road that most certainly would’ve ended in destruction. I didn’t care if I lived or died. To have someone who noticed me, saw me for something more than what I saw in myself was an amazing moment. She spoke to me in a way that I started to believe that I could have a life outside of what I was doing. I began to believe that I could have a future and live past 30 years of age. I now had visions of being something more. This in turn made me more defiant towards those who would hold me back and use me. The power of a teacher, the power of a person taking time out of their own life to lift another person up. I wanted so much to tell her what my real life had been like, to confess all my terrible things, because for some reason, I felt like she’d understand and would reassure me that I’d be alright.
I’ve thought about Ms. Osborn throughout my life. I always wanted to go back and see her to let her know what she meant to me and how she’d made such a difference in my life. All the things that she taught me and told me about life turned out as she stated. She’d told me that my typing abilities would be something that I could use throughout my life and that I was good enough that I’d never want for work. She was right! Typing has served me very well. I sit here now typing these blogs because of her. I’ve not only survived, but thrived in my workplace because of my typing abilities, just as she said I would.
I decided to do more google searches to see if she was still around. I’d looked a couple of times but never really found anything solid. I attempted again recently and found that when she married, she’d hyphenated the two names. This threw off the original search I’d done earlier on. Once I found out this detail, I searched with the hyphenated last name and got a hit! I then “typed” up a letter to Ms. Osborn and sent it off. I explained who I was and that she may not even remember me, but if she was interested, I wanted to meet and let her know just how important of a person she’d been in my life. I will tell you that as of yesterday, I received a card from her and she gave me her number so that we can make a plan to have lunch and chat. I’m more than excited about this and feel that It’s way overdue for me to tell her in person everything that I’ve shared here. She needs to know that her time with me not only changed me but saved me. My road was still tough, and I’ve struggled with the demons from all the years in the underworld, but she gave me the hope, or shall we say “set the fire” that I needed to change.
I’ll report back after I set up our meeting so that I can tell you how everything went. Even if it’s a quick lunch, I’ll find satisfaction in all of it because I was given the opportunity to thank someone who truly deserves to be thanked. This is a moment for me to sit with one of my real-life heroes. Thank you, Ms. Osborn, for caring, and for seeing something in a poor kid from the East Side. I’m forever grateful.
Thank you all so much for following along on my journey.
May begins Mental Health Awareness month. I’d ask that everyone do a self evaluation this month as well as look out for those around you that are, or might be struggling. There are so many stresses in this world today, you never know when someone will reach their breaking point. There are many that suffer in silence and are just trying to get by one day at a time. This is part of my story.
I’d always appeared to be the quiet one, the shy guy that many thought had everything together. No one knew the ghosts that haunted me for so many years of my life. The demons that were following me at every turn. There were so many times that I just wanted to give up. To give into the darkness and be free of pain, fear and feeling. While there are many reasons that people struggle with mental illness, I’ve been able to pin point exactly what events and person assisted in breaking me. There are times when I see someone on the street that might be talking to themselves, or staring off into the abyss and I wonder what was the defining moment in their life that brought them to this? Was it a singular moment in time, or was it more of a slow bleed? Was there abuse of some kind, or perhaps getting lost in a haze of drug use? These are all things that I think of because I walked in that darkness. I was searching for something, for someone to find me. Hoping that I’d be saved, perhaps from myself.
I’d reached a point that so many nightmares had chewed at my sleep, so much of my happiness was being drained, that I just felt anger. I was angry at the world and myself. I walked with a daring look on my face waiting for the moment for someone to say or do the wrong thing so that I could unleash my rage. A time bomb waiting to explode. While I felt that all of this was in some fashion normal. It’s what I knew growing up. Yet it didn’t feel right. Years of hiding these feeling and searching. If it hadn’t been for the need to find a counselor for my daughter, I’m not sure that I would’ve been able to find my way out of this. Taking her to a counselor to address issues that she was having exposed me and my damage to a professional that was able to spot it. Her kind and gentle approach was something I wasn’t used to. My initial response was to be skeptical. What did she want from me? Why did she think she could help me?
Once I’d agreed to begin my journey with her, I still kept so much hidden away. It took time for me to let down the walls that I’d spent a lifetime building up to protect myself from the world and everything in it. With each session I became more at ease around her, and as time went on I began to give full disclosure to the level of depravity that I’d fallen to in my life. I showed her my brokenness only to find her reach out and tell me that she would guide me through this, that I had value, that I was worth saving. I can’t tell you how many times I cried in front of Amy, I’m certain I’ve gone through many tissues in her company. I had to become vulnerable, to not fear showing who and what I really am.
I still have moments that I struggle. Even now when I write I question myself. Thinking things like why are you writing all of this? You don’t even write very well, you don’t speak very well, you are not to be seen. These are true feeling that I have, right now. I sit and work on my book and read back through all of the things that I’ve typed and save in the computer and wonder, who if anyone would want to read this? What makes you think you’re special? At the same time I look over the events and feel shame for the things that I’ve seen and done. I tell you this because I think it might matter to someone. The struggle that I have is daily and I’ve learned to believe that I do matter and what I have to say is important. I write most of the time strictly for myself. It’s cleansing for me to put my feelings down like this. Am I a writer? Yes! I push past all the feelings that I’ve talked about each time, knowing that if it’s not perfect, that’s o.k. What I put on here is an extension of me, it’s baring my soul for all to see, so it does matter. I matter.
I think many that struggle with mental health issues share a common bond. We all feel as though we’re less than. We want nothing more than to be seen and heard, to be included as part of this world. I’d like to believe that we as humans can take notice of those that struggle and offer something. It doesn’t cost you anything to be kind, that’s a great start. A smile is easy and free. Asking how someone is doing and actively listening when they speak. Take a moment out of your busy day to do things like this and you could be the one that makes a difference. Donate to shelters, volunteer your time to food pantries, support these organizations with your dollars if you have them to spare. All of this can move us forward and possibly save a life.
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My story is complex and ugly at times. A single person saw my struggle and turned my life around. Had I remained on my road of Silence and Secrets, I fear I would’ve given up at some point. Please, hear my words and be the reason that someone decides to keep getting up each day. Be the change in someone’s world. While May is Mental Health Awareness Month, remember that for many out there, every month is awareness, every day and minute.
I’m here if ever needed. I’ll listen to your story, and do what I can to validate your feelings. Stay strong!
I took some much needed vacation recently and headed West. The California coastline is a favorite for my wife and I. The seemingly endless beauty that the state has to offer is a calling to my restless soul. I found myself sleeping better, enjoying the many sights and sounds, along with dreaming of a way to stay there forever. Reality sets in when you wander the neighborhoods and see the fliers that are curbside with homes that are on the market. Millions of dollars just for the asking price and then you have to consider the inflated costs of maintaining said properties. It’s fair to say that this particular area of the West coast offers everything, but only to the chosen few that have the means to support such beauty.
Why is it that the most beautiful places on earth are only for the wealthiest? Don’t get me wrong, I find beauty in many of the areas that I frequent in my own part of the country, and I find ways to enjoy things with little to no cost to them. Keeping things “exclusive” is a way to keep others away. Those that might drive the fanciest cars, or wear the finest jewelry. People that use coupons and think through their routes based on how to conserve gas because of the rising cost. It seems that in this country there’s a price to pay for anything. I’ve always felt this way because I learned in my prior life that “Nothing in this world is free.”
While planning this trip, I decided at the last minute to upgrade our flights to first class. This was the second time in my entire life that I went the extra mile and paid more for a ticket to fly. Why you ask? Because I wanted to see how the “others” live. I wanted to experience having just two seats side by side with easy reclining to them, rather than three jammed tightly together and my knees bruised by the end of a flight because the person in front of me decided to recline. I wanted to experience the extras that are given to those who can afford to pay for them. The extra service, food, and luxury. Having my bags fly and tagged as “priority”, with no extra costs. (although it’s included in your ticket cost) Being guided to the front of the line when entering the plane and looked upon as if royalty. While on one hand it was an amazing experience, I couldn’t help but think, “I don’t belong here.” I’m just an average human that struggles like everyone else to get through life. It’s not because I don’t work hard, nor is it because I’m lazy. Some parts of this world are just roped off to the chosen few. I’ll explain further.
We visited a cute little town in the upper part of Michigan. One of the things that my wife and I like to do is walk about and see what the town looks like. I like to explore areas that have unique architecture and take notice of old world neighborhoods. In this particular town, we wandered into an area that had a gate of sorts. It wasn’t blocking you from coming in, but it was stated clearly by signs everywhere that not everyone was welcome. There were even signs telling you to stay on sidewalks and don’t venture anywhere else. We decided to walk through the area because you could see from a distance that the homes were spectacular and unique. As we walked through the area, you could feel the prying eyes watching your every move. You knew that you were an “outsider” and not welcomed. The perfect lawns, sculptured hedges and multiple high end vehicles in the drives were setting the tone of who could be there. The area, while beautiful became ugly in my mind just because of the feel that it had. The true ugliness that it carried on it’s perfect streets. We moved on after just a short stroll through.
This is something that I’ve experienced throughout my life. A poor kid that grew up shopping at the local A&P store, mixing up powdered milk when there wasn’t enough regular milk to get by on. A kid that found his way into the underworld, guided by people that promised a better life, food to eat, power through threats, and strength through intimidation. When I tried my best to get away from this life, I found that the world was still not very welcoming. I was judged by my zip code, by the school that I went to, and the lack of the best clothing. I made it a personal fight to prove those that would hold me back that I was just as good as them, perhaps better. Nothing had ever been handed to me, I struggled for everything. I appreciated any small amount of money that I could squirrel away. I toiled over second rate vehicles time and time again so that they shined like new money. Again, I appreciated everything.
I’m not saying all of this because I hate anyone that was born into a world of privilege. It’s not their fault that they were given things that I could only dream about as a kid. What I take issue with is that as they grow, they don’t notice those that do have to struggle. They’re comfortable sitting in that first class seat and looking down at the others that have to shuffle by and squeezed together in discomfort. I find fault in people raising these children to become adults that are good with glaring at others they feel don’t belong in their neighborhood, or gating them out so that they can’t share the beauty of their town. The beauty of this world was meant to be shared, it’s not just for the chosen few. I take some comfort in knowing that while many of these families might have everything beautiful around them in a physical sense, they don’t have what the rest of us hold onto dearly. We have empathy. We see others in this world and want to share the beauty and joy that it offers. We strive to bring others up that struggle rather than walking past them in some kind of ignorant bliss.
First class might offer more room, a better meal and standing at the front of the line, but the journey was still the same. I still would’ve made it to my destination, I’m good with bringing my own snacks. I don’t mind being with my people. We are many. The kid that always felt like he belonged on the outside of the beautiful has found a way in. It was a struggle, it was a learning experience, and it was hard, but I appreciate all of it that much more. There was a time that I felt like I’d sold my soul to stay alive, yet I persevered. I’m good with using coupons and not having the best of everything. I’ve become comfortable in my own skin. While it makes me sad that there are still so many parts of the world that are held out of reach to myself and others, I don’t feel that I’m lacking. I loved my trip, my vacation, my time with my bride. I enjoyed our experiences, our sights, and our memories. When all is said and done, I think that I’m the richest one. There is no holding me back, no roping me off, I’ll find beauty wherever I may roam.
Thank you so much for following along on my journey.
I received word tonight that my Uncle on my Mother’s side of the family had passed away last night. He’d been battling prostate cancer and wasn’t fond of the side effects that were happening from the treatments, and decided to just let things be. I bring this up because it’s part of several topics that I’ve blogged about prior to this. Family, loss, and all the dynamics that come with humans. Grief and loss are so individual to each of us. Some may feel completely broken inside and others are able to move through the loss with what appears to be hardly a scratch. It’s a complicated subject, much the way that humans themselves are complicated. We’re messy, of that I’m sure.
The news of this loss was something that prompted a discussion among my siblings and my cousin. The dialogue was open and cordial. We truly care for one another and again, the dynamics of family made this an interesting discussion. I’ll start by saying that I hardly knew my Uncle Brian. I have a few scattered memories of him in passing at different points in my childhood, but for the most part, I never really had conversation with him. He was my mother’s brother, and was a man of God. There were secrets much the same as all families had. My Uncle had a tough childhood, but as for the extent of what went on, I’ll never really know. He appeared to be very quiet, and had a shyness about him. I know that he had a fondness for good bourbon, one that he shared with my Uncle David on occasions. Both men of the cloth and very educated. They had a talent for listening and obviously due to the chosen careers, had a gift for speaking. They were both very human, and had their flaws as we all do.
The discussion that was shared among our small group was along the lines of who people really are, and how we find ways to get through our lives. The things that have harmed us, and the things that have given us great joy. The relationships that were forged and the people that seemed to get left behind. There were certain times that I had to take a step back and evaluate my feelings about family, especially those that hovered on the far edge of it. The ones that I really didn’t get to know. This was one of those moments. The loss of a human life is tragic. No matter how I might feel, there are many that are devastated. Just because I didn’t get the opportunity to get to know my Uncle doesn’t mean that he was a lesser person, or that his passing shouldn’t be mourned. It made me feel sad that we didn’t get to know one another. That I wasn’t able to see all the special things he had to contribute to this world. It also made me sad that he never got to know me and all that I have to offer. Family, and the delicate inner workings always play a part in these things.
I realized once becoming of adult age that both sides of my family had serious communication issues. In fact, I discovered that even within my own family, the relationships that I had with my sisters was partially controlled by my mother. It was a tactic carried on from one family to the next. She’d learned the art of “divide and conquer.” If you tell one child one thing and then tell the other something different, there remains a fracture that only the person telling the different stories is able to control, or in their eyes fix. I found that I’d be angry at each of my sisters at different times, but the reasons for being angry were manipulated by my very own mother. I’m not saying this to bring shade to my mother, it’s what she knew, it was the way she learned in her upbringing. Once I’d discovered this, I sat with my sisters and made a pact that we would never let anything come between us. That we would keep our bond as siblings tight. We began a group text that was left open for each of us to reach out to one another. We took our control back. This may have been upsetting to my mother at first, but as time went on she discovered how wonderful it was to see all of us together at different times, and happy. Something that she struggled with within her own family. Fractured relationships stayed in place among her siblings, and in some cases all the way to their very deaths. This was something that I never wanted to see with my sisters. They were not only my sisters, but my best friends and closest allies.
The webs that we weave. Due to these many fractured relationships, I was never given the opportunity to learn about other family members. It was similar on my father’s side of the family. He didn’t get along well with his brother or my Aunt, so we didn’t get to be around our cousins. We were told stories that as adults learned were not true. I was always told that they were the “rich” Neeleys and didn’t want to be associated with bums from the wrong side of town. I learned to dislike all of them without ever even truly knowing them. When we were actually together, I felt nothing for them. I knew the stories, and they had to be true. Once again, as an adult, I searched for truth. I wanted to know who these people were that shared my name and bloodline. Why didn’t they like us? I felt the same when I was at my Uncle David’s funeral service. My uncle Brian and his wife were there and for the first time in my life I spoke up. I explained to them that while they didn’t get a chance to know us, I wanted to assure them that we were all very good people. That we were worth knowing and that I was sad that so much time had gone by without having that. My Aunt was taken back by my words, but I knew that I had to speak up. I’d seen too much in life to just let this opportunity go by. She stated that she was sorry that we didn’t spend more time together as well. The unfortunate part of this story is that we never did get that bridge built. My Uncle is now gone and yet another chance to make things right has been lost.
This brings me to what I have before me now. I have just one Aunt left on my mother’s side of the family. She’s a happier version of my mother and it makes me love her even more. I have a few cousins still around as well. A couple of which I’ve forged very close bonds with. (Yeah Rick, I consider us close). I just said tonight that I want to take in everything that I can in my life before I have to leave it. Family is a big part of it. I try to reach out as often as I can with those that mean the most. I’d like to push that further and get all involved. I’m also realistic enough to know that some will never desire these same things, and I’ve learned to be good with that.
Anyone that’s spent time reading my blog knows that I’ve been secretive and isolated for a good portion of my younger life. When I get my book out there it’ll shed more light on the how’s and why’s this happened. Spending so much time self isolating is not the answer, and leads to even more damage. I know now that being open and extending my hand out is the best way, even when it’s painful. Even when I feel that someone has wronged me. I need to know truth and the only way to find it is to be open. I owe that much to those around me.
I love my family. They’re unique, messed up and flawed…they’re all so very human. I’ll continue to be the best version of me that I can, and will always try my hardest to seek the truth. Once finding truth, I need to process it and find a way forward, no matter how complicated. I wish all of these things for those reading this now. This is my way of grieving the loss of a man that deserves to be grieved. This is how I find my truth. I’m sorry that I didn’t get to know him better and that we couldn’t be more in this world. He was loved, and he was human. Perhaps we’ll bridge the gap on the other side of life.
Recently at my job I had to do my yearly training for “signs of human trafficking.” I’ve been doing this annually for quite some time now, but for some reason this time it really hit home. When I think of human trafficking, I think of others, people in the outside world. Whether it’s sex trafficking, forced labor, or some other kind of abuse, it’s always been on the outside. When reading through our material and listening to the videos, something caught my attention and I found myself turning my training inward. I had a breakthrough at that moment.
My life as an underground person has always been something that I was never proud of. I looked at myself as a poor, somewhat rough kid that just happened to grow up on the wrong side of the tracks. I fell in with a man that stated he saw something in me that could enhance my life, make things “better.” Everything started out simple enough. Watching people was easy and getting paid to do so was even better. There were “lessons” that gradually progressed, both in what was expected of me and the severity that came with failure. I learned to fear this man, and knew what he was capable of. The benefits of being around him were money and a certain amount of power. I wouldn’t realize until later that my powers were very limited and almost any request that I would make came at a cost. Nothing is free in this world. The subtle way that all of this started was by design. Treat you good, pay you well, smile a lot and gain your trust. I trusted him after being around him at first. He was also a friend of my father, so I felt a connection was in place there. What I realized later, is that I’d fallen into a trap for which there usually is no way out. I became part of very structured organization that believed in nothing more than making fast money, and lots of it. I see now that I was part of human trafficking. Webster’s definition of human trafficking is this. (The unlawful act of transporting or coercing people in order to benefit from their work or service, typically in the form of forced labor or sexual exploitation.) I fit right into the very definition! He gained financial benefits by coercing me to work, in very grave conditions. Putting my life and the life of my family and friends in the cross hairs. It’s like I’d read this for the very first time during my training at work. I’d had an awakening.
I sat at my desk looking at these words over and over again. It brought about a flurry of emotions. It was almost dizzying how fast things were coming at me. I started thinking of the different things that had been done to me. Places that I was made to go. People that I had to interact with that made my stomach turn. The constant fear that never seemed to leave me. All the nightmares that had kept me from beautiful sleep, and worst of all, a huge part of my adolescence had been stolen from me. I’d been betrayed, broken and left in a void at the end…wondering if I’d stay alive at all. This opened up Pandora’s box. Everything that happened over those years of “service” and all of the damage that had been caused by it. So many things were broken that wouldn’t come to the surface until way later in my life. The relationships that I was unable to form. The people that I could never tell my secrets to. My family that had to watch me struggle in silence for so long. So much…just so much to process.
I reached out to my counselor and told her that I had what I felt was an “awakening.” This felt like the biggest breakthrough in the many years that I’ve been in counseling. I felt like my counselor (Amy) had been trying to lead me to this all along. She mentioned things like “what would’ve happened if you’d stayed in the game?” “Where do you think it would’ve progressed to?” She mentioned human trafficking. My immediate thought was, at that time, trafficking of others. It never dawned on me that I was the one that was already being used. She replied back to my text about the awakening, “yes, awakening! Glad you can see that connection of threat and intimidation!” She understood me. It’s as though she’d been waiting at the train station the entire time for me to arrive. Her reply made me smile. This amazing person cares about me and what I’ve been through. I want to take this moment to share something she wrote to me after my last blog. I’ve asked her permission, and she’s granted it.
Someday you will forgive yourself. For what you did, for who you were, for pain you caused.
Someday, you will allow your guilt to befriend your shame and awaken the fear of death and darkness.
For those you couldn’t protect. And then one day, Like the tulips in the Spring Who hid underground. Like the monsters, will suddenly emerge older, wiser, more confident Transformed.
And wisdom will spill from the moon and unite with the energy of the sun. Just like light and dark needs to be-
Exposed, Vulnerable, Beautiful, Healthy versions of male and female. Listen again…Healthy versions of male and female. Live life full of love Forgiveness, Redemption, Renewal. Now it’s time to walk the streets with peace and be open to the male and female gentle loving inspiration. ~Amy C.
From the first moment that I started to read this I could feel my eyes start to fill up. All of the things that I’ve carried, for so many years. All the crushing weight of shame, sorrow, and guilt have started to lift. I did not ask for the things that happened to me and I’m no longer a victim of these crimes. I’m a survivor!
For those that I couldn’t ever tell, I hope that you’ll understand. Those that are part of my life now, I’m finding my way, and I now feel hope. I will continue to write about all of this, as it’s a journey that’s taken so much, but a journey that I feel will have an ending of my own choice. One that has peace.
January was National Human Trafficking Awareness month. I’d like to remind everyone that there are others still out there suffering at the hands of those that would profit from the very destruction of a human life. Please be mindful of your surroundings, and look out for those that might need your help. As a Survivor of Trafficking, I can tell you that your help and understanding can make all the difference.
I recently had a request to discuss friendship. (Thanks Sherie) It’s been a couple of weeks since the request and I think that I’m ready to do a deep dive into it. Friendship is something that I take pretty seriously. Even at a young age I was critical about my choices of who I wanted to spend my time with. There were always a few out lying “hanger-ons” that were in with the same group I spent time with, but that didn’t mean that we were “friends.” Although I enjoyed the group that I ran around with in High School, the bonds were not such that I maintained a relationship as life progressed. It doesn’t mean that I didn’t like them, it just means that our time was done.
“Friend” is someone you have a deep, personal connection with, sharing trust, loyalty, and significant life experiences with. An “Acquaintance” is someone you know casually, with limited interaction and a more superficial relationship, often only sharing basic information about one’s self. I believe this is the best description of the two that I could find. As I stated in my one of my previous blog entries, I have my own way of assessing people that are around me. Once I have an idea of who and what they are, I may allow them to gain closer access to me. I think we can all agree that I’m this way for very obvious reasons. If you follow my blogs, then you totally understand why I’m so guarded. I’ve had discussions with people over the years about the difference in friendship and acquaintances, and it has brought about some interesting conversations, some of which were slightly heated. I’ve been accused of not “valuing” people. I’ve also been told that “I’m nothing special, so why do I act like I’m all that?” That comment makes me snicker when I think about it now. No, I’m nothing special, but I do have barriers set up to keep people that make comments like that very far away from me. As for valuing people, I actually do. So much so that once I’ve made a solid connection with a person, I’m fiercely loyal and protective of them. Just because I don’t feel the need to have a few dozen people around as “friends” doesn’t mean that I’m lacking.
I have some true friends that have stood the test of time. There are some, that for whatever reason, we maintain a close connection even though we may not speak for months at a time. There are also some that are thousands of miles away that have been around since my childhood, know much of my life and still keep in touch regularly. I have my sisters, while considered siblings, are very much best friends to me as well. They love and support me at every turn, and I do the same for them. My wife, Karla is still my best friend. While she may not always understand me, she allows me to be myself. There are times when I feel like we’re worlds apart and that she’ll never understand me, but we always seem to find a bridge that connects our worlds. I hope that that never stops. Extended family. When I married Karla, I got a whole new fresh set of people in my life. I’ve found them to be genuine, caring, and thoughtful people. Not something that I was used to growing up. There were a few, but the qualities that these people have makes you want to be around them. Shout out to my “friend” in the family Cristi. Cristi is my sister-in-law and has the kind of vibe that makes people gravitate towards her. She’s “real” and you can feel it. She listens to me and gives great feedback on my blog postings…lol! Her daughters, Kate and Chloe are the kind of humans that give me hope for the world. I’m honored to have these people in my life. See, I really do value people!
There are people at work that I enjoy having conversations with. We share much of our lives and explore all of the frustrations that come from our work place. There’s a certain level of trust that comes into play in these types of environments. In so many work places there are people that are always looking to get a leg up and at any cost. Again, most are pretty easy to spot and keep in check. This is one of the areas that makes me grateful for the past that I’ve lived. I’m accustomed to watching and assessing people, and I do just that in my own work place. The body armor is always in place and I’m forever watching. While I treasure relationships that I’ve had in work places in the past, no one has stood the test of time. Once I’ve left the place of employment, the people that were a part of it become a distant memory. Remember the poem “Reason, Season, and Lifetime.” They were all part of a reason, or season, the lifetime are the ones that I spoke of above. There’s always the possibility that someone could end up in the lifetime from a work place. There is currently a single person that has stayed as a close friend from my current employer. Although she’s moved on to another job, we still have that friendship that can pick up right where it left off. She too reads this blog and we’ve shared some amazing discussions. You know who you are…lol!
How do you assess people that are in your orbit? What is the criteria that allows someone to find their way into the “circle of trust?” I do have the ability to gain new “friends.” I recently became good friends with my former yoga instructor. Who would’ve thought…right? She too has that “it” about her. When she speaks, you want to listen. For me, that’s huge. I’ve never felt threatened in any fashion by her and we both have developed a level of trust that makes it easy to discuss anything. What is it that you seek in a friend? Do you have the same types of walls that I’ve put up over time that keep so many from ever getting close to you? I’ll be honest, had it not been for my amazing counselor, I don’t think that I would’ve been able to forge new relationships at this stage of my life. There are so many that I feel nothing towards and can barely remember their name. I know, that sounds horrible, but it’s honest. The life that I’ve lived has made me what I am, like me or cast me aside.
Focus on this topic and have discussions with those around you. Share life events, or feelings with those you trust. Work on building strong bonds with the ones that you feel are worth the time. There are still good people out there. Take it from someone that had always believed that most people are shit. If I can find a way to form friendships, I know that you can to. The payoff vs risk is worth it, in the eyes of Zombie.
I’ve added the poem Reasons, Seasons and Lifetime below if you missed it before.
Thanks for following along,
~Robert~
People come into your life for a reason, A season or a lifetime. When you know which one it is, you will Know what to do for that person. When someone is in your life for a REASON, it is usually to meet a Need you have expressed. They have come to assist you through a difficulty, to provide you with guidance and support, to aid you physically, emotionally, or spiritually. They may seem like a godsend and they are. They are there for the reason you need them to be. Then, without any wrongdoing on your part or at and inconvenient time, this person will say or do something to bring the relationship to an end. Sometimes they die. Sometimes they walk away. Sometimes they act up and force you to take a stand. What we must realize is that our need has been met, our desire fulfilled, their wake is done. The prayer you sent up has been answered and now it is time to move on. Some people come into your life for a SEASON, because your turn has come to share, grow or learn. They bring you an experience of peace or make you laugh. They may teach you something you have never done. They usually give you an unbelievable amount of joy. Believe it, it is real. But only for a season. LIFETIME relationships teach you lifetime lessons, things you must build upon in order to have a solid emotional foundation. Your job is to accept the lesson, love the person and put what you have learned to use in all other relationships and areas of your life. It is said that love is blind but friendship is clairvoyant.
Once again this came about through numerous discussions. Do we ever really know someone? It’s an honest question that deserves to be looked into. I’ll share my feelings and then just leave the rest up to all of you to ponder. My take may be a touch different because of my background, but I’m sure there will be some similarities. Along with my thoughts of life and death, came the ever nagging question that I’ve posed as the title of this blog, Do we ever really know someone?
I’ll take a quick trip into the past to give perspective on why I feel the way that I do, or at least why I feel like I do at times. When you’re in the darker side of life and doing things that run well below law abiding, you need to be, or present yourself in a certain manner. The reason is simple, you want to stay alive. I’ve shared before that I was trained to be an observer of other humans. I was also taught to show nothing about myself. What I would show others, was only what I wanted them to see. I was able to roll through my entire high school life without a single soul knowing anything about me. Stop and think about that for a minute. Put yourself back in Junior high or High school and think about how people were. How social, how tight different “cliques” were. All the things that kids are supposed to do at that age. Now imagine being part of something so awful that if you so much as whisper a word of it, you could die. That’s what I carried back in those days. I had to put myself out there as a quiet, shy, ordinary kid. I find humor at some of the things that people wrote in my yearbook. They really had no idea, because I didn’t let them know.
We all have it in us to be less than truthful. We use our skills acquired in life to hide, or perhaps shield others from truths. In my case, I didn’t want to be truthful because there could be harm brought to anyone who might know my position. “Loose lips sink ships.” Loose lips also get people killed. I became a nonentity. Funny how even now at work I always tell people around me that I’m “nobody.” There’s truth to that statement even though I’m smiling when I say it. I learned to fade into the backdrop, to not be seen, to blend in. If I felt that someone was getting too close, or had a feeling that they might suspect something, I quickly got into the wind. Deception is something that is used, especially in the surroundings that I found myself in. These blogs are probably the most honest things that have ever come out of my body. There’s healing for me in writing all of this. You’re getting to know Zombie a.k.a. Robert. In some cases, for the very first time.
So, do you feel that you really know a person? Are you close with your family members? Perhaps you have a best friend that you tell all your secrets to. Do you feel that you really know one another? I’m not trying to make everyone paranoid, it’s just something that has come to pass in my journey in this world. I think deeply at times and this is a topic that intrigues me. Why do we not want others to know everything about us? My counselor Amy knows the most and we still work towards a full disclosure. I know that with more time and work, writing, I’ll be able to spill all that needs to be spilled. As I age, I process things differently, so there’s hope that I can see things through a fresh lens.
How about this. I’ve always said that when you meet someone, whether it’s social, work related, or a dating prospect. The person that you meet at the beginning is the “representative.” They’re most likely showing you the very best that they feel they can be. It’s a show of sorts, acting. I like to wait and see what they do when no one is looking. How they interact with others, especially when they’re comfortable. Listen intently when people talk. You’ll hear much of who they are in conversations, especially as time goes by. How they view the world and others is important. Let’s not forget animals! If someone hates dogs and cats you need to run, not walk away from them…lol!
Being a voyeur who was trained to pay attention to subtle details of other humans has gifted me the ability to spot frauds. In some cases I spot them and just allow them to be in my general area. It’s more of a “I want to see how far they’ll take things” action. There are some who, when I spot them, I call out right to their face. It’s a dangerous practice, and can lead to altercations, so I’m mindful about doing this at this point in my life. There are people who I feel have genuine goodness about them, and I want them in my “orbit.” Time is the key to all of this.
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You see, humans are so very fascinating. The way in which we socialize and maneuver through the world captures my attention all the time. I feel that it’s only fair that if I’m constantly assessing people around me, that I should be more open about myself, and here we are! This is what I’ve learned over the past few years with my counselor. I must embrace the darkness that has served me in my life. I am learning to accept some of my “abilities” that I’ve acquired as a part of me, rather than trying to distance myself from them, or erase my past. I’m also learning to show other humans who and what I really am. I know that not everyone will understand, or perhaps not want to be around me, and that’s o.k. While I do this, I try to bring attention to all the things that make me who I am. How I question everything and why I’m always guarded with my feelings. I think in the end, if you ask the question “do we ever really know someone?” If it comes to me, I’d like the answer to be, Yes.
People tend to want to help others, at least some of the time. Many of us have something built in that if we see someone in need, we reach out to them. This can be very appreciated especially when in crisis. The line gets blurred when someone decides that they can “fix” you. I’m guilty of doing exactly that at numerous times with persons that had no desire to make change. I don’t want, or expect others to reach into their bag of goodies and place a bandage on my wounds. I’ll explain.
I talk much on my blog about the different types of issues that I’ve acquired over my years on this earth. I share the parts of me that are damaged and what its meant for my life going forward. I also share the setbacks that I’ve encountered when faced with challenges that I’m not sure how to deal with. When I’ve fallen into crisis mode, I will either completely seal myself up, or it all seems to explode outwards in some kind of hostile word salad. Those around may not be equipped to handle this or offer help. At these moments, the help that I’m in need of can far exceed what the normal human can handle. I need guidance from a professional, or perhaps just time. This is not a slight towards those that are concerned, I just don’t want to be fixed. When I say that, it means that unless you understand the entire story, the offer to fix could cause more harm than good.
This is a really complicated subject matter, and I hope that I can make sense of all of it. I’ve had family members, loved ones and friends attempt to reach me at different times when I’m in a spiral down. I love and appreciate them for this, as long as they don’t add the dreaded advice on how to fix myself. Don’t try to fix the problems by saying things like “it’s not that big of a deal”, “you’re not that person anymore”, or “you’ll be fine.” Offer a listening ear without judgment if a purge is needed. Ask if there’s something needed, like should a counselor be contacted. Sometimes even just a hug can slow the processing and bring me back around again. A great example of this is when I walk with my sisters. They listen when I’m riled up about things going on in my head. The combination of physically moving and having someone just hear you when you hurt makes a huge difference on getting through crisis. My wife is good for moments when I walk in the door and just stretch my arms out and say that I need a hug. She’s always available for this and it settles the fire within. I highly recommend hugs.
Fixers want to get very involved in the trauma and that is not a welcome place to be. I don’t want to mix a person and their feelings, or ideas into my mess. I’ve even had times when I’ve just walked away from someone giving me “advice” on how to make things better. It feels more like a push, or a shove. Almost as if to say “do it my way and all will be well.” I feel a wall going up immediately when this happens. It’s best if I wall up and shut it out rather than allow more emotions of hostility creep in. I’m sure that we’re all guilty of just wanting to simmer, or as I like to call it “stewing in my juices.” I really don’t want anything from anyone. I just need time to sort everything out and I’ll be alright. I’m pretty good at letting others know when this is happening and just ask for space. Some fixers just can’t stand to allow this to happen and will continue to chew at your edges until there’s a snap. There have not been many, but I will tell you that when its happened, I’m unapologetically horrible. Once that happens, the fixer then becomes hurt, or possibly angry. Now there are multiple fires burning that really didn’t need to be.
When I say that if you struggle, feel free to reach out, I’m not offering any form of counseling, or fix. I’m simply saying that I’ll listen. If you want me to share how I’ve felt in similar situations, I can do that so that you don’t feel alone. I’m not the person to fix anyone, that much I’m sure of. I’ve even discussed and thought about getting involved with at risk teens. Something that my counselor thought might be helpful. It’s an area that at least for now, I just can’t go into. The very idea of having a teen, that acts the way I did and might be in even worse shit staring blankly at me doesn’t sit well. I know how I was at that age and I’m not sure that I could’ve been reached. They may not want to be fixed either, so I’d serve no purpose. This could change as I work through all my “things”, but for now it’s best that I focus on my shit and get that corrected.
With all this being said, humans are so very complicated and as my cousin said recently, “we’re all in a different place.” I’m in a part of my journey that others may not be. Some haven’t even started to address their problems. The timeline is our own. We all know when it’s time to make a move and get the help needed to collect our shit together and move forward. It took me into my 50’s before I decided to get rolling and that was only because the counselor was sharper than I was and detected issues. I knew that my sleep was a mess and that my nightmares were causing harm, I just wasn’t sure that I could do the things necessary to get better.
One thing that I’ve learned in these years of counseling. I’m better than I was, and that’s huge! I’m able to sleep a little better and I don’t have the reoccurring nightmare anymore. I’m aware of when I’m sliding and require a “tune-up”. Being aware of what’s going on in your head is just as important as being aware of how you feel physically. These two intertwine, so pay attention to the sometimes subtle blips on your radar. Know when it’s time to seek out a professional so that you can manage all the things going on. Try your hardest to remember that the fixers do have good intentions, they just don’t understand what’s in your head. Do your best to step back when they encroach in your space. Give warning when, or if this happens, but be as gentle as you can. If they are persistent in “fixing” you…only you know what needs to happen next. I’d suggest just walking away.
Once again this topic comes about by way of listening to music. One of my favorite songs came on the other day and it sparked this entire blog. The song is called “Fix Me” by the band 10 years. I’ll drop the lyrics below because they’re pretty spot on with how I’ve felt at times. “I’m fine in the fire, I feed on the friction, I’m right where I should be, don’t try to fix me”. Yeah, that hits the spot! I highly recommend giving this a listen, you’ll truly understand what I’m trying to say here. If you’re in need, seek assistance. If you want a listening ear without judgment, I’m around. I promise not to try to Fix you.
Until we meet again
~Robert~
Fix Me by 10 years
It’s taken a lifetime to lose my way A lifetime of yesterdays All the wasted time on my hands Turns to sand And fades in the wind Crossing lines Small crimes Taking back what is mine I’m fine in the fire I feed on the friction I’m right where I should be Don’t try and fix me I’m fine in the fire I feed on the friction I’m right where I should be Don’t try and fix me So lost for so long To find to my way I failed to follow I’m out of place Crossing Lines Small crimes Taking back what is mine I’m fine in the fire I feed on the friction I’m right where I should be Don’t try and fix me I’m fine in the fire I feed on the friction I’m right where I should be Don’t try and fix me I’m fine in the fire I feed on the friction I’m right I should be Don’t try and fix me I’m fine in the fire I feed on the friction I’m right where I should be Don’t try and fix me I’m fine in the fire I feed on the friction I’m right where I should be Don’t try and fix me
Let’s have a chat about people in our lives that we have no control over. Yes, that’s pretty much everyone. As parents we feel that our duties are never ending, and in many cases that’s a true statement. Where do we draw the line on things? When does it need to be removed from our plate? I’ll share more of my own life and struggles and let you all decide from there.
I was in a previous marriage that came with two children. I have no biological children of my own, but I felt that I had good wisdom and life experiences that I could pass onto kids. The sharing of a bloodline really meant nothing to me, they’re kids and kids need love and attention. That was something I was willing to do.
I hit the ground running with one closing in on tween years and the other still very much in diapers. I learned quickly that my life was no longer my own and I’d have to make adjustments in all areas in order to be the best father possible. I found it challenging, but rewarding at the same time. Kids after awhile start to act, or sound like you. Mimic your facial expressions, or say silly sayings that you probably repeated while working around the house. Perhaps even singing the songs that were popular in your home. Music was a regular thing in my house, and still is to this day. So, I’m not surprised that my Son is still a music and movie enthusiast. We shared lots of times watching shows, or movies together, and having discussions about them. We didn’t always agree on whether or not it was a good movie, but it was the time spent that mattered. Music was much the same. Different kinds of heavy metal are still something that he holds onto. He plays guitar, and very well. He does this in his free time and continues to teach himself by listening to songs.
My daughter was very much a girly girl. She liked her pink and purple colors. Found amusement in programs such as Dora the explorer (Swiper no swiping) If you watched the cartoon, you understand…lol! Rugrats were a big hit and Barney. Dear Lord that program made me half crazy! Anyway, she enjoyed listening to music as well. Sang all of the time, talked and sang to her “posse” of stuffed animals. It was all good stuff. I was a very hands on Dad and wanted good things for both of these kids. Worked hard to provide them with a good home, food to eat, safety and security. All things that I desired for myself as a child. If they did something wrong, I wanted to explain what it was they did wrong and why I was not happy. I didn’t believe in screaming at them. I know that I hate when someone yells at me I tend to wall up and hear absolutely nothing. If I was going to get through to them, I had to take a different approach.
With age brought all of the usual issues. Nothing earth shattering, kids stuff. Sneaking food late night, playing games in their bedroom until all hours, you know, things we’d do ourselves. The turn of events came when I parted ways with their Mother. There was a lot of not understanding why things were changing and why their parents would be living in separate homes. I was concerned that they’d take ownership of the problem and blame themselves. I had long conversations with them before the split and it continued afterwards. I never spoke poorly about their mother in front of them as I felt it would just cause more damage. She was still mom, even with the feelings that I harbored towards her. It was not their fault.
As luck would have it, the kids spent a good portion of their time with me in my home. That felt right and I enjoyed having them there. I’d grown accustom to them being in my life and wanted to continue to guide them through their lives. I was very protective of them, and when they were away, I worried about what might happen to them. I didn’t feel that the environment they were being exposed to was proper or healthy. It ate at me on a daily basis, but I had to remember something I was told. “You cannot control what happens outside of your home.” A wise woman told me that once, and I’ve held onto it. Another knowledge nugget is this, the three C’s. (Cause, Cure & Control) Use them in a sentence such as I didn’t cause this problem. I can’t cure this problem. I can’t control this problem. Powerful when you sit back and take that in. I had no control of anything outside of my door. I’d learn that that comes even closer, and will include inside my own home.
My son and I reached a point where I felt he needed to find direction. To decide what he needed to do with himself. By this time I had remarried and he was living in our home, working part time jobs and playing video games…lol! I felt that he isolated too much and should share time, space and energy with the group more often. I also am a big believer that if you live under the roof provided, you partake in work around the house. Do things without having to be told. Small stuff, but important, at least in my eyes. We had a parting of ways once he was over 18 and I asked that if he didn’t want to follow my rules, that he find somewhere else to stay. Was that harsh? Some might think so, but again, the person that I am and what I’ve gone through, I felt it was necessary. If there’s always a safety net waiting for a child, they’ll never step up and learn on their own. You’ll just become a codependent and they’ll learn nothing. I will tell you that after some time apart, my son is part of my life again. We speak about life more now as adults and work through whatever is going on in either of our worlds. He’s taken that leap, and stands on his own two feet now. Was it hard for me to do this? Absolutely! Don’t think for a minute that it didn’t hurt inside, but if I’d left him to just keep going along as he was, I don’t think he would be the man he is today. He works hard, pays his rent, loves his dogs, plays his guitar and listens to his music. He’s capable of living on his own. I could not be more proud.
My daughter had a harder time. She was constantly seeking the attention and approval of her mother. Something that would never come. It was heartbreaking to see her chase after smoke in the air, but I had no words that would make her feel better. As a teen she became more destructive, both to herself and others. Poor life choices started to stack up. We talked about all of this and decided to get her to a counselor to try to work through all of her feelings. It felt like progress was being made, but the demons were always there for her. The ever patient, harmful demons called to her and made her into someone that I wouldn’t know. The cute little girl that I’d shared so much with reached a point that I had to take a step back.
The counselor that I’d been taking her to recognized so many things in me. That’s where the bridge began. I picked up going to the very counselor that I’d been taking my daughter to in order to figure life out. It started with all of the guilt I was feeling about the kids. How could this have happened? What had I done wrong? How could I fix it? I had to learn then that the actions of others was something that was beyond my control. My children were not off limits to this rule. They were actually the ones that I needed to hold these rules in place for the most. They were the closest to me, dear to my heart and I loved them both! The three C’s come back into play here. (Cause, Cure & Control) The demons that my daughter has were not something that I caused. I did my best and offered numerous years of counseling, love and support, so I couldn’t Cure her. Her life choices are her life choices, so I have no control over them. By the time they reach adulthood, those choice can have severe consequences.
There are many that didn’t understand how I could “just walk away”, or “how can you do that to your child?” From the outside looking in, it’s easy to make calls like that, cast judgment on someone for being so “heartless.” My heart is full and has been for these kids from the minute they came into my life. There are some that would have you believe that because you don’t share bloodline, you don’t really understand what it feels like to be a parent. Yes, people have said that, out loud to me. Biological mothers and fathers all over the planet can be some of the worst humans around, so I’d say that I’ve done a pretty damn good job as a “Step-Parent”.
Life is messy sometimes, we all know this. If you follow this blog, you know first hand just how messy my life has been, and how I’ve managed to hold on all these years. Not everything works out the way I’d like it to, and that is the case with my daughter to this day. We’ve parted ways and don’t speak at all. I did everything in my power to help, or assist her in her life. Each time I was met with resistance, and just lack of common decency. The line has to be drawn in the sand. She was told that if she wanted me to be a part of her life, it would have to be on my terms this time. Think about that. It’s powerful. I took my power back and still let her know that I was willing to be in her life. Manipulation is a tool, and a weapon. I see it wheeled all too often in relationships around me. What is it in a person that makes them think, or feel that you yourself owes them something? In this particular case, I did what I was to do. I raised children with everything I had. All the tools that had been passed on, or learned. I supported any adventures they wanted to pursue, but made clear that their choices, their burdens were not mine to carry. There are some things in life that are just too heavy, and that’s one of them.
If you have someone in your life that challenges your dedication to them. Perhaps questions your decisions you make about your relationship with them. Stop and use those three C’s. (Cause, Cure & Control) Ask yourself how that fits into the situation. I believe in stepping back when someone feels that I’m not giving enough. Relationships, all of them require work from everyone involved. There has to be effort made by all parties in order to find common ground. If one party is unwilling or challenges this, perhaps it’s time to step away. You have permission to do so. Sometimes the focus has to be on yourself. In the end, focusing on yourself will help you to see things in a much clearer way. The weight caused by guilt will be lifted and you’ll find balance.
If you ask me today if I’m alright with how I raised my children, I’d tell you that I’ve loved them with everything I am. That is something that has never changed. Regardless of how things have turned out, I have made all my decisions with love.
The zombie file 