Love It

These are the words I would say if I could, but know I never will. I think it will help to at least put them out there. Dear Let's cover the recent stuff shall we? I delivered your needs, you left me a voicemail. It was snarky, it said it was a shame I didn't have time to go see you. I actually couldn't go see you. My anxiety attacks when I do that are pretty brutal. Nobody sees me sit in the car for sometimes half an hour building up to go in for mostly not as long as it took me to put those anxieties away to walk in. Nobody sees me run to the car when I leave. Or if they do they just think I'm busy. So I asked someone to intervene. I can't remember doing that. Ever. I asked them to tell you I wouldn't be in - for a while - not forever - just a while.  I trust them implicitly. I know they told you the right thing in the right way. You told them the voicemail was to tell me someone had fallen over!  No you didn't mention that. You snarked and shamed.

As a formally trained celebrant I am well versed in the art and benefit of rituals and rites. In the past few weeks I have been cleansing my home of physical attachments to this particular person. It's really helped. Clearing myself of a sense of duty in holding on to items that had a sentimental attachment out of sheer duty. I've tried to justify keeping them with a myriad of reasons.  From "Well I actually kind of like them, a bit" to "There are some happy memories attached, I think" and "Maybe future generations will want them". I've finished with that today with the final clearing of physical items.  This is the sort of thing that is generally done some months or even years after someone dies when the griever has reached a point of comfort that they can rid themselves of these things. When my grandfather died, my grandmother wanted all items removed from their shared home before she would move back in there after a couple of weeks s

I've been studying these recently and they are fascinating. I've always had a reputation for embellishing the truth, gilding the lily, etc.  Probably a polite way of saying I had lied.  That's a bitter pill to swallow. My levels of self awareness have been changing so much this year since the small piece of information I received on Christmas Day.  My reaction to that news was the monumental part of the year, and probably my life. First I found my tribe. It's online. I haven't met any of them. But they understand me more than anyone I have met face to face. They had similar upbringings. I have learned new acronyms, new terms and discovered reasons for a whole pile of things that I do - and say. When challenged about this habit. It is a habit. I don't willfully go and tell something not accurate, and I never want to hurt anyone either. My first reaction, here in the "new" land was to think "You're going to be shocked when you realise that

One of my posts recently was about my bedtime routine. Of overcoming physical pain in order to get to sleep. On the weekend I managed to open up a bit about my morning routine. A lot of things highlighted about parentification of children in a narcissistic household.  I say household as the word family isn't really accurate. So here is the routine.  Remember I wasn't an adult. I left this environment when I was 17 years old. This was from around 10 until 17.  If you're remembering back to Mum being up early doing things for you then I'm genuinely happy for you. Alarm clock goes off - 6am every day, but not really sure why I bothered as I always woke up before it.  This way I could get in the shower without risking anyone walking in. There was no privacy in the shower because apparently it was normal to have a chat. I didn't feel normal when that happened.  Comments about how big her waist was at that age always seemed to come out to reinforce my feelings

I feel that I have told so many tales of woe over the past month in this blog. Tales of pain, frustration, anger and hurt. They had to be told. But I've been doing a lot of work on my patterns and behaviours and learned a lot about what I do and why I do it. Which means today is a new day. I will still talk about those things that happened as to deny they happened will only perpetuate the farce. The farce that the biggest influencing relationship of my life turned out that way not as a role model but as a way of "not being". I've been challenged about some of my behaviours too.  Looking at them, while I take full responsibility for them, I can now see that they too stem back to this relationship that for most of the world is a nurturing one, but for me was damaging and narcissistic. It taught me negative ways of gaining attention instead of positive ones. I know they won't change overnight, but I'll be throwing everything I have at them. The person who raise

When you're taking steps to move forward you actually have to go up in your imaginary helicopter and go back to the past.  For God's sake don't land the bloody helicopter and get stuck there though!  Just fly over look down and see what happened, feel what you felt and then get the hell out of there again. I was doing this when looking at why I feel like I do about someone. Why do I resent them so much? And I discovered the term "parentified child" - yes it exists! One classic example of this was when I started High School.  I was quite comfortable at my local school, I had some friends and while I was far from fitting in, I knew my place. I knew I would do well at High School and was looking forward to it.  No, I got sent to another school.  Nobody from my year group was going to that school. Nobody. So I was being taken at a time of family crisis from a comfort zone to a whole new uncharted territory. Oddly I did this with my kids, but there were 2 of them

I've discovered in the last 4 years that bike riding is a very liberating feeling. I don't use headphones so there's often just the rhythmic sound of the wheels and the trees around me. Yes there's traffic, but that's comforting because it means I'm not alone. So now I'll come clean, I don't ride a bike. I ride a trike. A huge 3 wheel contraption that weighs 25kg and I can only ride to and from my house because of it. I can't pop it on the roof of the car and take it somewhere to ride somewhere different. I'm a giant mouse on a wheel, or to be precise 3 wheels.  I get odd looks from some who think a fit healthy person should be on 2 wheels - like a "normal" person. I get surprised comments when I get off and they find I'm not disabled.  I do get some compliments about how cool it is. And I do genuinely love riding it and I'm very grateful to have it. But why a bloody trike???????? Simple, I can't ride a bike.  Now

These days the answer is "Really well thank you" but it sure wasn't like that in the past. I saw one of those schmaltzy posts today: I cried. I cried because that's how my kids do arrive. They don't knock. They will often head to the fridge or the pantry. They fall asleep on the couch. I see them relax. I love it more than I can say. I wish they lived closer so I could see it more often. I have friends who do the same. It's just wonderful. I could re-write it to my own experience as an adult: "Now that I am grown, I have a panic attack when I walk through the door. I freeze, I want to turn and run. I have never gone for a snack unless I bought the food, made the snack, and fed it to you. I can't relax on the sofa, I am constantly on edge, waiting for the next comment. I feel the weight of my childhood bearing down on me. This is not home. I hope I never walk in again" So back to the original question "How do you sleep at night

So 14 years ago, to the day, because I'm accurate like that; I moved from views like this: to views like this: From harsh, rich, historic ground to lush, plush, historic ground. For 14 years now I've stuck to my belief that I pushed this move for the sake of my family. I believed they would have new futures, better lives and enjoy all the new area had to offer.  I think I was right, all of the males in my family have great careers, have developed friendships and relationships they wouldn't have made if we'd stayed put. Pop back to the blog "What's in a Name?" if you haven't been following along and you'll see there's been a lot of soul searching going on. That soul searching has moved forward to last night laying alone thinking about the move here 14 years ago with children and teenagers, and analysing the real meaning of why I wanted to move. This analysing must be healthy, for the first time since taking that secon

I don't think I've processed this much old thought for a long time. If ever. I've pushed and prodded all that nasty stuff so far to the back of my mind it's like cleaning out wardrobes of my mother's homes over the years. All the questions of "Why would anyone keep hold of that?" Except this time it's my thoughts and memories and questions I never thought I'd ask. Is this growing up? Is this midlife crisis? So for a few days I went away from the routine. Went into a whole new world. Then I came back. Sounds like a cryptic clue to a holiday doesn't it? Woke up today with the usual suspects of dogs and cats and wondered what to do today. I divided it up into 3 categories: Wants, Needs and Shoulds.  I'm not longer in a place in life where there are many "have to" sections. There's laundry to do, but I don't have to do it. There's cleaning to do but I won't die of sepsis if I don't do it. There's garden

I watched with horror as the Prime Minister quite literally forced a young woman to shake hands with him. I have no idea what his motive was. Media opportunity? Did he think he was doing the right thing? Was he so out of his comfort zone that his normal behaviours changed? Only he knows the answer to this. The questions it raised in my haunted back to childhood days. Those questions of rights, of respect and personal space that people without a narcissistic parent just don't ever seem to need to ask themselves. So with this in mind I asked someone whose opinion I trust implicitly, and who I know would never lie to me this rather bizarre question: "What parts of your naked mother do you remember seeing when you were growing up?" A resounding NONE was the expected and received answer.  Another screaming acknowledgement that my own life had not been normal, and that my boundaries were not respected. So, have the "chuck-up-bucket" on hand while I explore