Trust Issues

     Lately I have been having  second thoughts about trusting people.  when you get hurt enough times you start to wonder just what the heck you are doing wrong to cause people to want to hurt you.  And of  course being me, I'm sure it has to be something that I am doing, that it somehow has to be my fault, never thinking that it could be their problem and not mine.  
      I've been doing a lot of soul searching to maybe figure out what I've done so bad as to cause three of my long time "close" friends to toss me under the train so to speak.  And why all this has happened within such a small time frame. (within a few months of each other)  

     I've always been a super trusting kind of person, I try very hard to see the good in everyone and I believe that everyone has some good in them, it only needs to be brought out.  I try so hard to put myself in their place, to see what makes them tick and to understand why they are the people they are.  And lately I've noticed that I've gotten very wary, and I worry that if I'm not careful I will continue to lose even more people who I think care about me and appreciate me.    Am I going to do something to run them off too?  And I ask myself what it is I have to change in order to keep them around.

     I've become a bit closed off from people too, I don't want to make new friends because it hurts too bad when things go wrong.  I spend most of my days alone because it feels safe, and I'm afraid to take anymore chances with anyone.  Rejection hurts, especially when you don't know why its happening.

     My husband told me I need to get out more, to find new friends and be with other people sometimes, and I found myself saying "I don't want to meet anyone new", why set myself up for more pain?  I'm okay by myself, I have no problem being alone most of the time.  I prefer it this way."  

     During all this soul searching I have become concerned that I really have become afraid to trust anyone new with my heart.   It wouldn't take much for me to become completely homebound, I'm almost there already. And trusting my own judgement of people is totally skewed and what looks good on the outside isn't neccesarily what the whole package is about.        I've been looking inside myself to see what it is I've been doing wrong and am trying to be as honest with myself as I know how.  And although I know I am far from perfect, I can't find a thing that I have done  different, I haven't all of a sudden become hurtful or mean.  I'm the same person I always have been.  And I simply don't think it's my fault that these things are happening to me, it's just another one of life's lessons that I am being taught.

     So, this morning as I was sitting on the computer I typed a question into the address bar, "Why can't I trust people like I used to?"  "Why am I so afraid?" 

The page that came up was on Oprah's website and there were several articles to choose from.  I chose this one...

 http://www.oprah.com/oprahs-lifeclass/Martha-Becks-No-Fail-Way-to-Figure-Out-Who-to-Trust

Very interesting and I found good information, and I even took a quiz which revealed a lot about me that I hadn't thought about before.  I realized that my inner trust meter is skewed, that it has always been skewed and that I needed to work on it a LOT.  In this article Martha Beck asks some very to the point questions:

Start by thinking of someone important to you, and rate your trust in that person on a scale of 1 to 5 (1 = lowest possible trust, 5 = highest). Then, evaluate the person by recalling your observations of his or her behavior. 

Here are a few obvious questions I've found very helpful in quantifying the trustworthiness of people in my own life. The first three are the "yes" questions; if Person X is completely trustworthy, you'll answer yes to all three. The second three are the "no" questions—if Person X deserves your trust, the answer to all three will be negative.

The "yes" questions: 

1. Does Person X usually show up on time?

2. When Person X says something is going to happen, does it usually happen?

3. When you hear Person X describing an event and then get more information about that event, does the new information usually match Person X's description?

The "no" questions: 

4. Have you ever witnessed Person X lying to someone or assuming you'll help deceive a third person?

5. Does Person X sometimes withhold information in order to make things go more smoothly or to avoid conflict?

6. Have you ever witnessed Person X doing something (lying, cheating, being unkind) that he or she would condemn if another person did it?

These questions might seem trivial. They're not. As the saying goes, "the way we do anything is the way we do everything." I'm not saying we have the ultimate power or right to judge others. But if you trust someone whose behavior doesn't pass the six screening questions above, your trust-o-meter may well be misaligned.


And here is the quiz:
http://www.oprah.com/relationships/The-Trust-Test

It brought up some points that really made me stop and think about what was going on with my so called friends.  And then it hit me right between the eyes what was going on and why they turned on me and why they literally deserted me.  And I realized that it certainly was my fault, completely my fault.  But not because I was doing something bad to them or something wrong to them.  It was because I was finally doing something GOOD for myself!  I was caring about myself first, and not them.  I wasn't allowing myself to be stepped on and used anymore.  It wasn't them who was changing, it was me!  And I realized that of course they had to see it and of course, they wouldn't like it.  There was nothing more in it for them.  It wasn't me that quit caring, or quit trying to help them, it was them.  When they figured out that I wasn't someone they could walk all over anymore, that I was becoming a very strong and confident person, when they saw I wasn't so open and vulnerable and not so willing to take second best anymore, they abandoned ship!  They flew the coop, vacated the premises, ran like their tails were on fire to get away.  They no longer had any use for me and they got out while the getting was good, probably fearful of what I would see, that I would realize how much they had taken from me.  Afraid that maybe I would start to ask for something in return.  

     When I realized that it was my fault after all, but that it was because I have finally learned that I am a worthwhile person and I deserved to be treated good also, I felt such a tremendous sense of relief.  And yes, I am still very sad that that I lost them, but I've also realized that I never really had them in the first place.  And I can see so clearly now that they never were the kind of people I gave them credit for, that it was all just a fantasy I was living.  I think somewhere deep inside I knew what was going on, but I had such low self-esteem I felt I deserved nothing better.  This was just "normal" for me and it was my lot in life.  

     So now after my soul searching journey,  I can finally put this part of my life to rest and can continue to learn and grow and take care of my own heart.  I can forgive them and be free of it all.  I can't change who they are, but I can change who I am.  I hope they find what it is they are looking for, I really do.

      I deserve to be happy, I am a good and honest and worthwhile person and I deserve the very best this life has to give.  I don't have to always take the broken cookie, I can have the whole one.  And I don't have to depend on anyone else to validate who I am.  I will take care of me even if the whole world deserts me.  But I no longer have to worry about that either because I am finding that the good people, the real people, they are still here and they still like who they see.   It's taken a lot of time for me to learn to love myself and to care about who I am, I'm not giving any of it up!  I love my life, I am grateful for all that has happened in my life, the bad as well as the good, it took all of it to mold me onto who I have become.  I'm so grateful that I am who I am.  If I could pick me to have as a friend, my life would be better off in many, many ways.  I would be proud to call myself Friend.   And suddenly I feel like skipping down the road singing and laughing and chasing butterflies, that's how great it is to be me!  

So, yes, in a way this was a test for me, one that I passed with flying colors.  It is a validation that I am finally doing things right, that I am on the right path, and I am headed in a good direction in my life.  And I want to continue down this path and see where it takes me from here.  I am truly blessed and I hope whoever reads this will find this type of joy if you haven't already.  It's there for the taking and we ALL deserve to be happy.  

Another Lesson in Forgiveness

for·give·ness

 noun \-ˈgiv-nəs\

: the act of forgiving someone or something

: the attitude of someone who is willing to forgive other people

That is what the dictionary has to say about it.  Not much in the way of describing what it means if you ask me.

And this is how they define forgive:

for·give

 verb \fər-ˈgiv, fȯr-\

: to stop feeling anger toward (someone who has done something wrong) : to stop blaming (someone)

Not much help there either...I have a much better definition of what forgiveness really means.  

It means that you admit to yourself that whatever has happened to you is NOT something that you can change.  So you quit trying to change it.  It's that simple, you accept what happened, and you move on.  Once you realize there isn't a thing you can do to change things, you also realize that there is no more need to hang on to them.  You let go of the anger, the need to retaliate and you let go of that pain.  And then you can get on with the healing process, start to mend things in your heart and become whole again.  

And I have found that the hardest one in the world to forgive is myself.  But knowing now what it means, it makes it easier to do so.  I realize I can't go back and change anything that has already happened, so I am letting it go.  No more tearing myself into a million pieces or waking up out of a dead sleep, heart pounding, wondering what in the world was wrong with me.  I realize finally that the only way I can make things even near right again, is to move on.  Let it go and get on with living.  That doesn't mean I will ever forget anything, it only means that I accept that I can't change it.  

Now saying that, this doesn't mean I am letting myself off the hook.  I have to use what I've learned from my mistakes to grow and to help others when I can.  To make sure that from this moment on, I do the very best I know how to do.  I made some bad mistakes, but instead of spending the rest of my life being unhappy and miserable, I am choosing to learn from those mistakes so I can start growing again.  Going around hating myself is not only bad for me, but bad for the people that have to be around me.  And it does nothing for no one.  So, I am getting on with living.  And that's that.

And I'm finding since I must learn from this experience, it is time to forgive others too.  I have carried around a lot of anger for a lot of years, blaming so much of my sadness and misery on what others have done to me.  Well, that just won't work anymore.  I have to take responsibility for my own self now, which means no more blaming others or using them as an excuse for my own behavior.  Since I am taking my own power back, I need to gather it all up and own it.  So, here goes.  

I've been angry at my ex husband for a very long time, blaming him for everything that happened back then.  And I realize that it wasn't all his fault.  Yes, he did some messed up things, no doubt about it.  But I did too.  I didn't make his life better either.  I hurt him too.  And I am very sorry for my part.  I don't think he will read this, but if he does, I want him to know that I no longer lay all the blame on his shoulders.  All of what happened was not his fault, he was reacting to what I did too.  He had a need to hurt me, to act the way he did, and I had a lot to do with that.  And I can say that if I knew then what I know now I would have handled things a whole lot different.  But now is all we have, and I only wish for him to learn and to grow from all this too, and if some day he can forgive me, it will give him strength and power that he has no idea exists in this world for him at this point.  He is a good man basically, he did his best and what more can we ask?  

     I forgive my Mom too, she was sick, she didn't mean to hurt me like she did.  She also did the best she knew how and through it all I always knew she loved me.  I forgive you too Mom.  And I love you always.

     And my brother, I forgive too.  Yes, I was angry at him too, it seemed like sometimes he did the things he did on purpose.  But he was sick also.  He didn't have whatever most of us take for granted in this life.  He didn't know how to be better because he was ill.  But he did the best he could too.  And I love you too, always.

This is going to change a lot of what I write about now because I don't see any more purpose in telling all the sordid details of my life.  I just want to live what time I have left doing the best I can.  And finding peace in my heart for the first time I can remember is something I want to savor and enjoy.  I'm sure I'm not done making mistakes, but that's okay too.  How else can we learn?  

And this seems like a good stopping point for this particular page.  God Bless you ALL.  

"I am not my own fault!"

In a few months I will turn 60 years.  I feel that I am getting old, but never will I be ashamed of my wrinkles, or the grey hair I am starting to see.  I earned every one of them, and most of them I earned the hard way.  I am who I am now because of what I lived and experienced in the years it took me to get this far.  And I like who I am.

These are some of the lessons I learned along the way, maybe you will see something here that you can use on your own path of healing.  

First and probably the most important is to learn to take responsibility for your own life, for your own mistakes, and also to give yourself credit for the good that you have done.  You see, once you learn that you have been hurt in your life by outside forces, that you only did the things that you did because of how you were conditioned, yes, you can blame all that on whatever it was that hurt you.  You can learn to forgive yourself for your actions because at that time, it really wasn't your fault.  You were only reacting in a way that seemed normal at the time.  So yes, blame away for the past all you need to.  I used to say," I am not my own fault!"  And for a time you may continue to blame everything on what happened to you before.  

     But there comes a time that you finally realize that it is time to quit giving yourself that excuse.  You begin  to learn not to blame anyone else anymore.  Because now you are old enough and wise enough to know the difference between right and wrong.  This is a tough one to explain, but bear with me a bit more.  You know that before you had a reason to act the way you did, you didn't know that you had a choice in the matter.  That no longer holds though, because now you DO know the difference between right and wrong, we are all born with that knowledge built in.  (Well, most of us anyways!)  And you can no longer blame anyone else because you are now the one in charge.  Now, when you make a mistake, you have to take responsibility for it because you are the one that did it.  You alone made that decision knowing full well it was wrong.  And by blaming it on anyone or anything else, you are giving away the power you have to grow from it, to learn from it and to become a better person in your own right.  

     This doesn't mean that you need to keep punishing yourself over and over or hurt yourself in anyway, it means, you own up to your mistakes, and you learn from them.  You grow.  You become a stronger person, and YOU/YOURSELF get all the benefits!  And the next time you will make the right choice.   You learn that you DO have the capacity to do well, to do good.  The only  truly bad mistake is the one you learn NOTHING from.  Mistakes are how we learn and they are important lessons for us.

     And the benefits are nothing to be sneezed at either!  You find yourself starting to gain confidence and you  start to care about yourself, you realize you aren't such a bad person after all.  You can look in a mirror and actually like, maybe even love what you see there.  Yes, you make mistakes, you are human, but now you know how to fix them.  Each moment of your life becomes good because you can see who you really are.  You are NOT what others make you anymore.  And you become free.  You get your life back, and you are in control now, no one else but you.  And there is nothing stronger or more empowering to you than knowing you can control your own life.  

     It does take courage sometimes and isn't always easy,  but I can promise you, it will become easier and easier to do, because you start to see the payoffs very soon.  The rewards are so great, you can't help but want more. You take your own life's power back into your own self and there is no better feeling, believe me, I know from experience.  

And another lesson I have learned is that we ALWAYS have choices.  This one was very tough for me to finally "get", because sometimes it's very hard to see that you do.  But we always have choices, I need to make sure you know that.  I'm not saying that the choices are always easy to see and  sometimes, even if the choices are obvious, they  hardly seem  like choices at all.  

     Here is an example from my life.  This was very recent and it was a very tough one for me.  My husband and I have been married 11 years now and there were things happening to us that were becoming very hard for me to bear.  I won't go into the details too much, but let me just say that I knew I didn't want to live anymore of my life feeling the way I did.  He was angry at the world and taking it out on me.  To the point of me never knowing when he was going to go off on me again and feeling like I had to tip toe around him.  He, at times got very quiet and being who I am, I was sure it was something I did to make him mad.  I was trying so hard to make him be happy, I was losing who I was completely. I couldn't do any of the things I loved because I didn't want to make him mad or give him any reason to start in on me again.  This is one of the leftovers from my childhood and trying to please everyone, to make things go smooth again.  I was taking upon it myself to be responsible  for his happiness.  But of course, I couldn't fix this for him and it was making me very unhappy, I hated my life and even went into a very bad depression because of it.  To the point where I had almost given up on happiness and for the life of me could not see anymore point to living or trying.  I couldn't bring myself out of it and finally due to some nagging from a dear friend, I went to the DR and got anti-depressants, which more than likely saved my life.  I have since quit taking them though, I want to experience life without them.  This is just my way, I don't want to miss anymore of it than I have to, tears and all.   Anyway, a day came when the hubby was on my case so bad, he just wouldn't stop and nothing he said was positive, and it seemed that he just couldn't find anything about me that was good.  He ranted at me for almost an hour with not one good thing to say about me.  I felt his disgust, and his anger all aimed at me and although I was trying to get a word in between his rantings to defend myself, he just wasn't listening.   This behavior was happening more and more often and lasting longer and longer,  and this time he even slapped the table so hard, I was glad it wasn't me he had hit. And I wondered if that would BE me at some point. And now he was scaring me too, this was a new feeling and not one I even knew how to deal with.   He was angry enough at that moment, I wasn't sure if he would or not hold back.   At one point he said something to the order of, "You don't love me, if you loved me you would ..." and that's when I realized he was talking to me just like my Mother did.  I had a major flashback of those days when she was doing everything she could to manipulate me.  To get me to do what she wanted me to do by using emotional blackmail.  And now he was scaring me too, this was a new feeling and not one I even knew how to deal with.  

     When I realized what I was hearing, I stopped him right there, stopped listening, stopped responding, and realized that there was no way I could defend myself from that sort of accusation.  I've already been there, done that and and AM NOT going back to that guilt trip ever again.  I had learned to walk away, or even sometimes run away from my Mom when she did that, I was not going to fall into that one agan.  

     It was at that point that I realized I would never be able to change him, or his way of thinking.  But I had a choice to make here.  I was not willing to accept that behavior from him, I knew it would be my undoing.  But how was I to stop it?  My choices were right there in front of me.  I could either let it continue or let it end our  relationship.  Neither one seemed very good to me at all, I couldn't take what was going on, but I also couldn't stand the thought of another failed marriage, and I fell in love with this man  and knew he had a good side, I do love him very much.  I was happier with him than I ever thought I could be with anyone.  But he had changed in a way I couldn't live with anymore.  I realized that although I could never change him, I could change myself.  I realized that it was only me that could deal with this and I  had to ask myself which would be better?  I realized that sometimes in this life you have to make sacrifices in order to take care of who you are.  I knew that my life would no longer be easy if I had to go out in the work force again at my age.  I knew it would be hard for me to live where I do without having his knowledge and strength.  I had no clue or plan for times like this and really very little money at my disposal to get me through.  But I knew without a doubt that I could not go back and live my past again through him.  There was my answer and I made my choice.  I was going to take care of myself now.  I am the only one who could or would, and  I will not ask for help so I was on my own.    I let him know what I decided and that was that.  He knew I meant what I said, and I  knew it was over.  I wasn't willing to bend on what I needed and he couldn't see that he was in any way to blame.  He wasn't willing to make the changes I needed.  So I was done, simple as that.  

    I was terrified at first, wondering what I had done! Scared to death of facing the world alone again, and so afraid that I wouldn't be able to make a living outside this place.  So many, many things to deal with,  I almost thought I was going to have to back down and take what I could with him.  Luckily for me I have a deep belief that I am not alone here on this earth.  I know that I have angels all around me and I know that if I pray, God will listen.  They are only waiting for me to reach out for their help,and  they want to help if you let them.  So I reached out and I gave it to the man upstairs to deal with from that point on.  I found peace there and the fear was gone.  I knew that no matter what happened I would be just fine.  

     Then the hubby left town for a long job and I was alone here to deal with stuff.  I gave him this time to decide what he wanted to do, and he knew where it stood and that he wasn't going to be welcomed home if things didn't change.  For three weeks or better I suffered through it, but steadfast in my decision.  I wrote to him many times trying to make him understand what I was asking, trying to make him see that he was doing something to me that I found extremely wrong and abusive. And to let him know that if he didn't change some things in himself it was going to escalate and become totally out of hand. 

      Finally he was to be coming home in a few days and still nothing had changed.  I got very angry with God, I felt like once again he had deserted me, that I really wasn't worth his time.  My husband was giving me the silent treatment by then, not answering my calls or responding to my emails, just silence.  It was pure torture to me and hurt so unbelievably bad.  I knew for sure then that it was over and he wasn't going to do a thing to fix this.  I prepared myself for the split, I was getting ready in my mind to help him pack his stuff.  I had made my choice and I was sticking by it, that was that.   

     And then the phone rang and it was him.  He was on his way home and he wanted to try to work things out, he was sincere and although I didn't really hold much hope, I realized I wanted to try one more time.  There was something in his voice that was different, I could see a bit of the real person I had married.  I felt like he had realized something and that he was sincere and I became at least willing to hear him out.  He would be home in about five hours and I would listen.

     I had that much time to think about things too, and I realized that there were a few compromises I could make also, because I felt safe enough by then to be able to think about things besides myself.  I realized that in a way we were both to blame and it takes two to make or to break a marriage.  We both allowed it to get this bad, and I realized I had made mistakes too.  

     And when he got home finally, we were able to sit down like two adults and treat each other with some respect.  No more yelling matches, just a willingness to listen to what we both had to say.  He was sorry, he wanted to make this work and he told me what he was willing to do to make it happen.  He had finally, finally heard me.  And he had finally been willing to admit he was wrong and that I deserved to be treated with love and respect.  So, now we are busily trying to be the best we can be again, we are working together to succeed at this marriage.  We are on the same page and not in any sort of competition.  And we are working it out.  The man I fell in love with is back, and even better than before.  

     My point to all this is  that I had choices, they weren't exactly easy, either way, but I did have them..  And I made the right one this time too.  I made the choice to change myself and to take care of me for a change.  And even though I was lucky and it worked out, I was willing and able to do what it took for my own happiness.  Yes, we do ALWAYS have a choice.  

     And now one more lesson that has the power to turn your whole life around.  This stuff is all related and they work together in the healing process.  This one is about validation and self -worth.   This is something that I struggle with always, but I think I am finally getting a grasp on it.  This is the one when you realize at some point you don't need others to approve of you, and you don't have to please everyone in your life.  The only one that is truly important to please is yourself.  I have been a people pleaser all of my life, it was always so important that people liked me     I was good at it, I learned to be to survive.  It was a survival technique for me and I learned at an early age to use it.  It became who I was.  It was important to me that people like me and approved of me.  If they didn't, I would bend over backwards to make sure their opinion changed.  I became a chameleon in that way, and learned to fit into any situation by becoming what I  thought others wanted.  I changed opinions, I changed clothing styles, and I changed anything about me I felt was different to what would please others.  And if for some reason I couldn't be what they wanted, then I changed people.  I found different people and walked away from those I felt didn't approve.  Talk about being insecure!  I was terrified people would find out who I really was, and I just knew if they knew the true me, that no one would ever want to be around me.  How could anyone love that person?  I didn't like her much either so how could I expect anyone else to?  So I hid me away in a corner, and put on other total identities that fit with who I thought they wanted.  And this was everyone I knew, everyone.  And in that way, I did have friends, and I did have people who loved me.  I thought until I was nearly 35 years old that I was stupid.  That I didn't have any real brains and that I was totally inferior to everyone around me.  Some people I couldn't even stand to be around because I didn't deserve to be in their presence and I knew it.  I was the lowest of the low and everything in my life up to then was bad and no good and I was of no worth or value to anyone.  

     And even now as I write this I realize that it wasn't even me they loved, because no one ever knew the real me.  Heavy stuff here, and very tough for me to digest right now.  Hmm.

     I'm not sure when that started to change for me and I started to learn that I did have a few things that people liked.  And I started to share the real me a little more.  A lot of that happened when I met Mama Hen.  She was a lady I worked with, she saw something in me that she wanted to protect for some reason, and she took me under her wing.  I used to tell her she grew me up.  And that is another story which I will share at another time.  

     Now that I am a lot older and have finally started to heal and have decided that yes, I am a worthwhile person and I do deserve happiness and all the good things life has to offer, I have started to learn that what other's think of me is not important.  Or at least not the be all end all it used to be.  I am happy with who I am, and I am happy that I am not like anyone else.   I want to be different, because I am different.  I like that about me now, I don't have to fit anyone else's mold or sacrifice my own heart just to be loved.  Last week I died my hair blue!  And I am here to tell you, it is blue of the deepest blue!  And I love it!  It's beautiful!   And it doesn't matter to me that others look at me and shake their head.  I am loving that person in the mirror and no one can change that.  I love that blue hair, I look at myself in the mirror and I smile and that makes me happy.  I walk away from the mirror and that smile stays with me, and I feel good.  I don't need other peoples opinions anymore, I trust myself and can decide what makes me happy.  I deserve to have blue hair if I want, and if I decide later to make it purple with polka dots, I will do that too, if it makes me happy.  

    Do you get what I'm saying now?  You don't need others to validate who you are, only you can do that.  

And now you can see that all three of these lessons go together and they are all so important to learn if you want to be truly happy with who you are.  It is possible and we are ALL worthy.  

                                                 This is that Blue Haired Lady, not the greatest pics

                                                        but you get the idea!   Love it!  God Bless

                                         Too sunny to open my eyes!

Taking a break today

So, the last few days have been a bit tough, writing this stuff down and seeing it again is almost like being there and although I am not that messed up, confused little girl anymore, it brings a lot of the old feelings back.  Mostly now, I am grateful that I survived it all in one piece more or less.  And I have learned that the harder life is and  the more you have to deal with and the tougher the lessons we are given to learn, the stronger you become once you are through it all.  It teaches you appreciation for the good things in life.
   

Not saying it was all bad...

It wasn't all bad, and I feel I need to point that out.  There were times when life seemed good and happy, and things did go our way at times.  I loved them both very much through it all, and I know they loved me too.  We didn't have a lot of money or fancy possessions, and we never had fancy homes, and never a car, but we always seemed to have enough.  We managed to get by and never went hungry, and although there were lean times, and we ate a lot of beans, it wasn't all bad.  

I can remember times spent with Mom that were very special.  She used to keep life insurance policies on us kids, and every once in a while she would cash in on them and we would go shopping.  Downtown Denver in those days was a whole lot different than it is now and for us, it meant a bus ride, maybe transferring to another before we got there.  But her and I could spend a whole day down there just looking at all the sights and watching all the people.  I remember walking with my hand in hers and how good and safe I felt at times like that.  She took care of me and always loved me.  I remember as a very small child we were downtown, had been there all day long, and we were both very tired.  We were at the bus stop waiting for our bus and it was bone-chilling cold.  It was dark and it was snowing and there was old snow on the ground, piled up here and there, it was miserable.  She realized how cold I was and so she opened up her coat and wrapped me inside with her.  I had a little hole to look out of but it was like being in my own little cozy nest.  Those are the times that I treasure in my memories and sometimes they are what I think kept me from being more damaged mentally than I was.
    Mom passed on a few years ago, and then my brother followed her about 6 months later.  He died so young, but he was in a nursing home by then with horrible health.
     When Mom died, I was living a long way from her.  I got a call from the people at the Assisted :Living place where she was living at the time.  They told me that Mom was in the hospital and that she had fallen and broken her hip.  I called her right away and told her I was on my way and at that time she was able to talk to me, but I had a terrible time understanding what she was saying.  In my mind, I now believe she had a stroke that took a toll on her.  I believe that is why she fell, but the official report only said that she fell.  Anyway, it took me almost 3 days to drive there, I'm not much for flying.  All the time during that drive she was on my mind and I had so many things I wanted to say to her.  I wanted to let her know that I had a lot of good memories with her, that all the awful things we went through, I didn't blame her for anymore.  I wanted to tell her how sorry I was for the way I acted towards her at times.  And I honestly thought that she had only broken her hip and that I would stay with her until she could mend and recover.  I wanted to tell her all of this.  When I finally got to the hospital, she was in a sort of coma, she couldn't talk to me.  I think I knew inside that this might be it.  At one point I felt sure she knew I was there though, I held her hand and talked to her and I felt her fingers move, I think she knew.  And she lifted her head like she was looking up above her and a smile grew on her face.  She was seeing something that I couldn't, but I knew whatever it was was beautiful, I could tell by her smile. Then she relaxed back into herself and slept.  Finally, I went across the street to a room the hospital provided for family and I went to bed, thinking a few hours and I would be able to see and talk to Mom.  But the phone rang after only about an hour, it was the nurse that was there and she told me that Mom had passed.  I was so angry, I asked why she didn't call me sooner!  I told them where I was and to call me if there was any change at all.  I was only minutes away.  Why did they wait?  And she said, it just happened so fast and without warning.
     And then I got angry at Mom, why the hell did she leave without me being there?  How could she do that to me?  The anger just filled me up, I felt like once again she DID it to me.  It wasn't a good feeling, and anger is not my usual way of dealing with things, but the rage came out and there it was.  By the time I got over there it was about gone, I realized that the nurse did the best she knew how, no point being angry at her.  And I also realized at that moment that Mom didn't want me to see her last breath.  She waited for me though, she waited for me to get there before she went.  That was some comfort for me although not nearly enough.  There never is enough at times like those.
     They were awesome at the hospital though, they took complete care of everything including calling the mortuary.  Mom did leave a do not resuscitate paper with them, and she had taken care of what would happen to her after her death.  I know she did that for me too, to make it easier.  She had donated her body to a teaching hospital so there wasn't even a funeral to attend to.  While waiting for the mortician to get there a lady came to sit with me, it was her job to take care of the bereaved I guess.  She asked me if I wanted to sit in the room with Mom, and after I had seen her laying there dead, I knew she wasn't in the body, so I couldn't go back in there.  I didn't want to see her dead anymore.  I wanted to remember her as she was the night before, looking up and smiling.  She was most likely seeing her own mother there waiting to greet her.  I like to think that is what happened.
     There was nothing to do now but wait for the process to be over.  When Greg got there, the mortician, he completely took over.  He gave me her hearing aids, that is all she had with her, and he asked if he could have her glasses to donate.  I told him yes, of course.  He explained to me where they were taking her and that after they were done with her body, they would send me her ashes.  He was awesome to me, and I can never Thank him enough for being so wonderful at such a difficult time.  I didn't know at the time how long it would be before I could get her remains.  It was almost 3 years.  And  that is a whole other story.  At that point there was nothing else for me to do for her.  I left her there in their care and went to the place where she lived to give them the news and to take care of her stuff.  And when I got there they already knew and some of the girls were even crying.  I knew in her last years she was loved and cared for and that helped a lot.  After packing up what I could take with me and giving away the rest I had to do one last thing.  Tell my brother.  He was in a nursing home about 50 miles from there and I had to drive there with tears blinding me, knowing what I had to face and somehow get through all of that too.  I've never felt so alone in my life.  I had no one there to lean on, and really no one that could understand.  It was probably the hardest day of my life.       But face it I did.  I got to the nursing home, and they pointed out his room.   I walked in and saw him sitting on his bed and when he looked up he was just so happy to see me and so surprised.  He asked me if I had been to see Mom yet and how was she doing?  He knew about the fall but wasn't expecting what happened anymore than I was.  When I told him he fell apart and we just held each other sobbing together, nothing else we could do.  I stayed there in his town at a motel for a few days, and then told him I had to get home.  It was so tough driving away from there, I had a feeling that it was the last time I would see him for a long time.  And after that we talked on the phone at times and kept up with each other the best we could.  He always asked me if I would come back to see him.  I told him I would try.
     But I didn't get the chance.  About six months after Mom passed I got a phone call telling me he had passed in his sleep.
     It is very hard to write this down, the feelings are rushing over me now as I type.  So much sorrow, so much pain, it's still almost unreal to me.  I thought when Mom passed I would find some relief from all the guilt, and when he passed I felt the same thing there, maybe now I could find relief.  But all I felt was anger and pain.  I was so hurt, I felt like even in death, they were hurting me.  I was angry that they were together yet again, and leaving me out.  They both went off and left me without a thought is how it felt at the time.  Always, always Mom favored him, gave him all the attention, loved him in some special way that I didn't have.  Anger, resentment, hurt, the feelings rushed into my head and stayed for a long time.  And there they were again, loving each other so much that they even died close together.  I wasn't even close to being done grieving over Mom, I didn't even have her remains yet to bury, and then he left too!  It was so unfair, they left me again.  Once again and even more permanent this time I was on my own.  I didn't feel relief, I felt anger and hurt.  My whole family was gone now, I had no one and no way to find the healing I needed so badly.  Mom left without letting me tell her what I needed to tell her.  And he left with her, they were together and I was alone.  I still really don't understand it, I can deal with it better now and I know that they didn't mean to hurt me, I am not angry anymore.  And I still talk to them, I feel them with me nearly everyday and I know they loved me, both of them did.  They didn't desert me, it was only their time and they needed to be together in the next life, and one day I know I will join them.  And I know that when I next see them, they will be healthy, in mind and spirit, they will be healthy and living and learning and being happy and healthy.  I can look at it now and remember there were good times, there are good memories and it wasn't a total waste.  And I know that all the pain we suffered together and apart made me a stronger person.
     I can own that anger and not regret it, it got me through an impossible time in my life.  It got me back home on that long road trip, and it gave me the strength I needed at that time to survive it all.  And it was long from being over for me.  About a month after my brother passed I went to the post office and picked up his ashes.  They were in a cardboard box, inside the ashes were wrapped in a plastic baggy and tied with a bread tie.  I got to deal with that one alone too.  I brought him home and put him on a shelf and decided to wait to deal with it until Moms remains arrived too.  That shelf became a shrine to them, pictures and little keepsakes, you name it, they were there.  I saw it everyday for almost 3 years, his cardboard box, and trinkets.  Never being able to really heal or finish the grieving process. And finally after all that time Mom showed up the same way, in a box, a little bit fancier but not much.  Picked up at the post office, alone again to deal with it.  And still a long way to being healed from it all, it was as bad as the day she died, the pain, the hurt...but Thank God, no more anger.  And I put her on that shelf too, not sure what to do with it them.  It was there another six months or so while I decided what to do.  Finally I decided I wanted them to be close to me and I went and bought two trees and put them underneath them.  I put them in the ground in full view of my kitchen window.  I see them there everyday, and I talk to them when I water or when I just sit out there and it is okay now.  In our own way we are together again and it is good.
     And I am beginning  to find the peace I have looked for all of my life.  I am healing.   This many years of hurt, anger, confusion, the whole gamut, it's beginning to make sense to me.  It has brought me to where I am now, it has made me who I am and for the first time in my life, I like me.  I am worthwhile, and I deserve to let myself feel happiness and I have learned just recently how to stand up for myself.  I know that I will always have me.  And I have promised myself that no matter what, I will never allow anyone to ever beat me down so far that I lose who I am again.  I am strong, I am good and I will enjoy every year the Good Lord gives me to be on this earth,  and when it is time for me to cross over, I will be ready and fearless.  I can always find joy, and mostly I know that I deserve to be happy.  The guilt I have carried every single day of my life is being left behind and I am glad to finally let go of it.  A friend of mine once said to me, "I am not my own fault!"  And that rings true for me to this day.  I am not my own fault, at least not the beginning of my life.  Now I can take over and gladly take responsibility for what I can become.  I can do that for the good and the bad, and it gives me my own power to be who I am.  I will never give that away again.  Much love to all and especially the ones that made it this far through my ramblings!  Thanks for listening.

My brother

Okay, a bit about Steve, my brother.  Right here I need to explain that my Mom named him Steve, but later on as he became an adult, he changed his name to Zac.  Zac will be what I call him from here on, it will save me confusion and maybe you too.  It took me a long time to start calling him by this name, but if I messed up, he would always say "Steve don't live her no more!".  I finally got the new habit, it took Mom a lot longer as well as other people he knew.  You may be wondering why anyone would change their name, well, you had to know my brother.  He was a very messed up kid, and grew into a very messed up adult.  He was hard to live with as long as I remember, never like other kids, always either in trouble with the law, or in trouble with neighbors, or with Mom, or anyone else that got mixed up with him.  
     Not many people understood him, I think I knew him better than most, and even I didn't know him most of the time.  It was a love/hate relationship we had, but unlike most sibling relationships, I think ours was different.  He was two years older than me, but it was me they called out of my second grade class to go try to calm him down in another class.  He was usually freaking out and almost always in a mood that scared most people.  He was scary looking when he was scared or mad, or in any way upset and most people just tried to stay away from him.  For some reason, he trusted me and I could usually get him to calm down and come back to earth.  I never understood what was wrong with him and for most of my life I blamed it on the fact that he didn't have a father for a role model.  No one to teach him that boys didn't cry and boys didn't hit girls, and all the other things that fathers could teach their sons.  
     One time at one of the many, many schools we went to, I was called out of class and told to go find my brother, he was headed for the high school down the street a few blocks.  He had some bigger boys chasing him and they were going to beat him up, I guess he stole something from them, or they said he did.  He went straight into the high school, not through the doors, but straight through a huge plate glass window!  I never did catch up to him, but some kids I saw told me what happened.  He made it through that one with only a few scratches on his hands.  I think he lived under a lucky star in a lot of ways, because some of the things he survived would have killed anyone else.  Things like that happened all the time when he was around.  He was always stealing from someone, anything that he could pick up.  He stole from friends, family, even me when he could.  And if he didn't steal from me, he talked me out of it.  Sometimes it was just easier that way, hard to explain.  And some things, he not only stole, but then he would totally destroy.  Our neighbors across the alley for instance, it was a family with two young sons, maybe a bit older than Zac and I.  They had a garage across the alley from us and lot's of times we would see them out there all together, building model cars.        They had shelves full of finished ones and even some under glass.  Zac was never invited to join them, I guess they already found he wasn't a good one to be around.  One day I got home from school, and he was at the top of the stairs in our house, and had a big piece of wood laid out at the top, it was a ramp.  He had stolen them right out of that garage when they left it open part way.  It had to have taken several trips for him to get them all!   He was running those cars down the ramp as hard as he could, down the stairs and right into a wall!  There was already a pile of wreckage down  there, I would say about 20 of them totally destroyed, nothing left of them worth fixing.  All in all I think he must have destroyed at least forty or fifty of them.  Later that same evening we were playing in the back yard, and all of a sudden that man, the father of those two boys came out of nowhere, and was he ever mad, his face was beet red and he chased Zac right out of our yard screaming profanities and swearing he would kill him.  Zac managed to get away, but it was close.  Later the man came and talked to my Mom, told her what happened and told her he best not ever see him anyway near his place again, he would call the cops.  She didn't have any money to pay him for the damage, and I think he knew she couldn't do that, but he was still so mad, I think Zac knew better than to show his face around that man for a long time.  

This story will have to continue...next blog coming soon on this subject.

Growing up with someone who has a personality disorder.

Before I go any further with my story, I should probably tell you what the main point of me even writing my story is.
     My Mother was mentally ill, she had some sort of personality disorder.  My brother was also very sick, he was many, many years later diagnosed with Schizophrenia.   I'm not sure Mom was ever diagnosed with anything other than she had a Dr. who prescribed her "Nerve pills".  She had other pills too, but mostly to help her deal with the "nervous condition" she supposedly had.  I know she took some very strong stuff at times, like Quayludes <sp> and librium, stuff like that.  I know the quayludes as I tried them, she gave me one and I found I loved the feeling they gave me.  I helped myself to them for a while, but when I took so many that I don't even remember what happened at school that day, and only vaguely remember getting home, I realized that wasn't something I wanted to feel ever again.  They were laying all over the house, and I figured if she gave  them to me, it couldn't be bad.  Live and learn.
     The reason for this blog is to show the effect mental illness has on the children living with it, what it can do to your life and how it can totally destroy a persons ability to function in a healthy world.   I don't know how it is in the mental health field now, but back then I  think they must not have known much about it.  And for sure there was  no rules or structures in place to protect the innocent ones living with it.  If so, I certainly never benefited from it.
     By writing my story, I hope to show my children that when I left them, it was from a place of total love and not what they grew up believing.  I was protecting them the only way I knew how.  I married their father when I was fifteen years old, I was already pregnant, and wasn't even old enough to drive a car.  When I got my first driver license my husband had to sign his permission for me to get it.  He had become my legal guardian, isn't that a hoot?   Then after the first son was born, not even two years later I found out I was pregnant again.  This time I was seventeen and still not even old enough to make my own decisions about my body.  I wanted to have my tubes tied, I knew at that point, two babies were enough.  My husband even had to sign his permission for me to do that.  He was 7 years older than me, I suppose they thought he was smarter, more mature?  I don't know.  Why they would even allow a seventeen year old girl to have her tubes tied, is totally beyond me now.  I regretted that decision many times afterwards, but it was only one more regret in a long list.
      After our second son was born, I went into a depression so bad, I could hardly function.  I wasn't able to give my sons even the simplest things, I felt so inadequate.   I wanted to just stay in bed and not have to think about anything.  Sleep was my only peace.   My husband at the time was very jealous and insecure, even to the point of accusing me of having affairs behind the grocery store with the bag boys.  I didn't know how to live with it.  He didn't even like it if I asked him to watch the kids so I could get out of the house and go for a walk.  He was just sure I was meeting someone behind his back.   I had only moved location and traded one dominant sick personality for another.  I am sure if they knew anything back then, I would have been diagnosed with post par-tum depression, I fit all the symptoms at the time.  Of course, I don't even think they knew what that was back then.
     Then one day I had gotten supper all ready and waiting for when the husband came home, but he came in drunk after drinking some wine with his buddies or something.  He was late and I was very angry by then.  And seeing him so drunk and so ugly, I knew I had had it with him.  I threw the food in the trash, and the fight was on.  I realize it was time I got out of there, but he wouldn't let me go, first he pushed me into a wall, while I was holding the baby.  I'm not saying he was ever violent, I don't think he meant to do it, but he did.  I was doing my best to get my stuff together and both babies ready to go.  He went into the kitchen and came out with a small kitchen knife, not even a sharp one, threatening to kill himself with it.  He even went so far as to act like he was stabbing himself in the chest with it.  It was a butter knife for crying out loud, but I didn't know for sure at that point.  I was screaming by then, the kids were crying, and our neighbors called the police.  I made it to the car and before I could get it started he was at me again, through the window, yelling and screaming and acting such a fool, somehow I ended up not leaving at that moment, I think it was to avoid running him over as he was hanging through the window.
      I got out of the car and went back inside, and the next thing I know he has his gun in hand, he is threatening to shoot himself or me telling me if I leave it will be over his dead body or mine.  I just reached out and grabbed it out of his hands telling him to stay away from me, and ran back outside.  He came at me again and I threw the gun down as hard as I could on the concrete sidewalk.  It broke right at the handle, the barrel was completely broken off.  It was about this time we both heard the sirens and knew it was for us.  He picked up the part of the gun that held the bullets and ran inside.  The police came around the house shortly after this asking me what was going on and where he was.  I told them about the gun and what had happened and told them he wasn't dangerous, the gun was broken and showed them what was left on the ground.  The first cop unhooked his gun and said he was going in and that the part of the gun the husband had was the business end and it was still very dangerous.
     The next think I knew they were bringing him out of the house in handcuffs.  They told me at that point that if I wanted him to be arrested I would have to sign a paper pressing charges against him.  I signed it, I sure as hell didn't know how to deal with him, the wine had turned him into a maniac as far as I was concerned and I had, had enough of him to last a lifetime by that point.
      I don't remember much detail of  what happened after that, I do know that he was released the next day.  His family were all very angry at me asking me why I didn't call them instead of having him arrested.  I couldn't get through to any of them that I wasn't even given an opportunity to do that, even if I would have had the presence of mind to do it.  I did what I had to do, and I was the one that was punished, they all just hated me for doing that, and his sister was my role model at that time, I thought she was the only one in that family that even cared about me at all.  She was angry too, I was pretty much lost after that.
    The husband had a lifelong dream back then to join the FBI, he wanted it more than anything.  Of course with him having a record now, that was off the table.  And who else could be to blame but me for signing the arrest thing.  It was all on me, my fault, I ruined his life.  No one could even see that it was him that brought it on, not me.  I even felt for a long time that it was my fault.  I was programmed by a long life of blame, that anything that went wrong was my fault somehow, it was part of my dependency on crazy people that brought it on I suppose.
     It wasn't too long after that that I finally lost it completely, I had a total breakdown and had to get away from him, I really felt I had no other choices at all.  It was either that or I would lose any sanity I had left.  When I told him I had to go, the first of many attempts, he told me that I could take the kids, but it would be over my dead body.  He had said that many times, and I believed him.  I had seen how he was when he had a gun, I even saw him shoot at a deer one time and I think it was wounded, but he never tried to find it.  It wasn't hunting season and he didn't even have a hunting rifle, it was a 22 bott line special, with a longer barren than most pistols.  I'm not sure why that sticks in my mind, guns are not something I know much about at all, especially back then.   I remember screaming at that deer telling her to run!  Get out of here!  But she just stood there with those big eyes looking at us.
     So, when I left, I left with nothing, I ran and ran and ran.  I left the kids with him, not only because I feared his threats, but because I had no way of raising them, and I knew it.  I was barely eighteen years old, I had dropped out of school, I knew that I couldn't take them to my Mother's house, she wasn't someone that  I would want to be around them for long amounts of time.  I had nowhere to go with them, I had nowhere to go with myself either.  All I could do was remember how bad it was for my brother growing up without a father.  We didn't know what was wrong with him, no one knew, but in my mind it was because he didn't have a father, he had no man in his life to teach him what it was to be a boy.  Even now a hundred years later, I believe that he if would have had a man around things might have turned out different.  Even knowing now how sick he was, I believe that.  I knew that if I took my sons with me, there would be no father to teach them, and I could not face them growing up to be anything like my brother.
      I take full responsibility for leaving them, it was my fault I made that choice.  I made the decision and I will live with it for the rest of my life.  I am only just the last year or so realizing that I did the only thing I knew how to do to save them.  They say we all have choices in this life, but looking back, I really didn't see any other choice I could make.  The odds were all against us, I didn't know what else to do.  And honestly, even now, knowing what I do, I can only see that I did the best thing I knew how to do at that time.
     The one thing that was always steady in my mind, was that I love them both with all my heart.  And I always will.  I can't even really ask them for forgiveness, how can I ask them to do something that I can't do?  There will always be in my heart the feeling of anger I have that I did what I did.  I can't forgive that even to myself.  How can I ask them for that?  And someday when they may be able to do just that, it will make me happy only that they are able to get past all this pain, the hurt, the confusion and the wondering why?
     We have a relationship now, of sorts, but I will never feel that I even have a right to give them advice or demand what most Mothers take for granted.  The youngest one can't even call me Mom anymore.  I will never feel that I deserve what love they care to share with me.  I will always have my regrets and my pain, it may get easier with time to live with, but it will never be what I call normal.
     So this story is for them, for them to heal and if it touches someone else's heart or helps someone else going through the same things, it is worth all of it.  I am going to try to be totally honest with my story as best as I can remember, the bad as well as the good.  I know it is the only way to make anyone understand, honestly and truly, who  I am and what shaped me.
     And with the help of my creator, I will now try to face  what I never could before.