Every Experience, A Lesson

I can sometimes remind myself of the thought that "every experience is a lesson."  Right now I'm having trouble with my milk supply (I'm breastfeeding my nine-month-old), and it's difficult to try to understand the lesson in this.  I believe it's partly that I need to remain centered & steady when parenting my daughter around my own parents.

My parents (& their siblings) would be the first to tell you how traumatic and terrible their childhoods were.  My aunt, my mother's sister, likes to say to me, "You don't know what abuse IS, honey!"  Apparently she is the only one who has ever experienced an abusive situation.

I have been working with homeopathics & flower essences, in addition to some other natural remedies, to help heal (and recognize) patterns of abuse.  My brothers and I have been invalidated so many times that it's really hard for us to trust our own experiences.  Do substance abuse, anxiety, & depression issues in our late teens and early 20's not spell out our histories?  One brother has a tendency to say things like, "We were never beaten, so we didn't experience abuse."  Minimizing what happened.  Denying it happened like it did.  Blaming ourselves.  In truth, our parents didn't beat us, but there was a whole lot of other stuff that went on.

Two weeks ago my dad, my brother, my ex-boyfriend/fiance, and myself went out to lunch at a chain Italian restaurant.  For an appetizer, the restaurant serves bread that you dip in olive oil & pepper (both conveniently kept right on your table).  My brother innocently used the last of the olive oil to dip his bread in, enjoying his meal, and my dad leaned across the table and smacked him, "I was going to eat that!"  And I watched my brother shrink down into himself, like a flower wilting before my eyes.

I was furious, I was horrified.  My instinct was to jump across the table and grab my dad by the throat.  I don't remember what I actually said or did, though I know I must have been visibly angry & uncomfortable, but through working with ACA & understanding the Perpetrator-Victim-Rescuer triangle a bit, I decided to remove myself (not act as Rescuer) and say/do nothing in that moment.  However, IF THIS IS GOING ON IN A PUBLIC PLACE WHILE WE ARE ADULTS, WHAT HAPPENED TO US AS CHILDREN?  My memory has so many holes, it's hard to remember.  It's hard to know. 

At 13 I had my first nonconsensual sexual experience when a friend from school assaulted me; I tried my first drink six months later, at 14.  That summer I also tried marijuana for the first time.  The next summer, at 15, was spent being sexually abused by an 18 or 19-year-old guy who told me "this is what a relationship is" (and sadly, I believed him), and he tried to rape me a couple times ("boys will be boys!" I told myself).  When we broke up, I found comfort in an online relationship with another older guy.  I had my dad drop me off at his house (I lied & said I'd met him at a concert), to be sexually assaulted by him within about two hours.  Rapists will be rapists, I say.  Unfortunately, victims are attractive to those who would victimize us.

Empty sex & mindless inebriation became a regular thing for me after that.  It is only through the healing, sobering, & EMPOWERING journey of pregnancy, birth, & mama-hood that I am really starting to come into my own power again.  In fact, I recently experienced what is termed "spontaneous soul retrieval" in the shamanistic community (see Sandra Ingerman's marvelous book, "Soul Retrieval: Mending the Fragmented Self" for more information).

"In our culture we are unaware of what is out of spiritual harmony that is creating illness. And because often our soul loss happened so young we are unaware of the unconscious patterns we are living out due to our first experience of soul loss. We are always trying to retrieve our soul. And how we do this is by repeating the same trauma over and over again. The names might change of the people involved in our life story, but the story is often the same." Sound familiar?

I will probably write more on soul loss & soul retrieval later, especially because tonight I'm starting a six-week class about it.  Right now, it feels more important to me to talk about my history.

I'm in this weird place where I really don't want to be around my parents (especially my dad, and especially at their house) but I've set things up(?) so it is this way for now.  I have been here for two days and am generally really surprised at how disingenuous my dad is; it's either inauthenticity or anger without a whole lot of middle ground.  Here I would like to point out that besides the flower essences & homeopathics--which I believe helped with the soul retrieval--but it is since the actual soul retrieval itself that I am seeing everything & everyone in my life with fresh eyes.  It is astounding; I keep reminding myself that it is me, not EVERY OTHER PERSON I KNOW, who has changed.  :)

The soul retrieval also makes it much harder to be around my daughter's dad.  I went over to his place to pick her up a few days ago, and I could not believe how critical, deflective, & passive-aggressive he is. Literally unbelievable, or shocking to me. ("And we do this by repeating the same trauma over and over again.")  They say we marry our parents...

He and I had a falling out of sorts over the weekend.  On Saturday I left her with him for over six hours, and when he brought her home he had not fed her anything (I could tell because she was clearly, visibly hungry).  He told me all he gave her was (cow) milk--bad enough because I had already told him the day before that she is clearly sensitive to/intolerant of dairy (she gets a rash all over her face).  So he either didn't remember or didn't care, because he gave her milk the very next day.  She came home with spots on her face (which he pretended not to notice), and when I was cleaning out her diaper bag a bit later, I found the receipt--for CHOCOLATE milk.  Are you serious?!  At nine-months-old, not only are you not taking care of her health, but you are starting with secrets she is supposed to keep from me?!  Ugh.

It is time for me to begin working the fourth step.  It's so helpful for me to try to keep "One Day At A Time" at the forefront of my mind, because today I can accomplish many good things for myself.

Thanks for reading.

Hello world!

Here I am, single mama in recovery.  Those are not necessarily words I ever thought I would be using to describe myself, but this is where I'm at right now.  Being "in recovery" is powerful.  As my friend Ashley says, "People who aren't working on improving themselves are pretty sick, indeed."  This year it has become really clear to me how important it is to define myself.  I used to be one of those types that "hates labels," but now I can more easily recognize that kind of thinking as "codependence."  (Why label myself when I am a chameleon?)  Out of chameleon-hood, and on to self-definition!

Right now I have two mom's groups I'm attending, one for crunchy, community-building types, and one for trauma survivor types.  Happily(?), I am both.  Membership in each of these groups is bringing distinct gifts, while bringing my "personality defects" to light.  For one, it is much easier for me to be open with the moms in the trauma survivor group, though I'm having a difficult time becoming close to any of the women.

Ahhhh, the dilemma of the child who grew up in trauma--"best friends" who live across the country and the world.  It's a lot harder to befriend our neighbors & community members, right?  Because we are so afraid they will pull back our mask & discover the "real" us.  Of course, we define ourselves the way the abusive members in our life have defined us.  It was only last weekend my "dry drunk" grandmother was calling me "worthless," and only last weekend I was trying to pretend it didn't bother me... But it's okay that it bothered me.  It was scary, it was abusive.  I don't have to go over there again, and right now, I don't think that I will.

I'm somewhere between 10 days and eight weeks as a single mama, depending on your definition of "single."  I put it at somewhere around a month, I guess.  It's messy because, rebellious anti-authoritarians that we were (well, I was, & he is) we said "Marriage is not for us!  We don't need a piece of paper to declare our love!"  So we aren't divorced, but we are living apart, and trying to remain on good terms as best we can.  It was my choice to break up.  I'm working on being gentle & loving towards myself, and part of that is embracing where I was two years ago.  I love that girl, but it is becoming more and more clear how lost she was.

In November my therapist recommended I check out an Adult Children of Alcoholics (ACA) meeting, and the next morning I tried out my first one.  I know I cried that first morning, for lots of reasons, including the healing I knew I was headed towards.  Perhaps crying was the first part of my healing, or maybe going to the meeting, or therapy... who knows.  I have been walking a healing path since about February of 2008, when I picked up "The Verbally Abusive Relationship: How to Recognize It and How to Respond" and Eckhart Tolle's "The Power of Now."  Such eye-openers.

It feels so good to be blogging again!  It's been about five years, wow.  Thank YOU, reader, for being here with me.

Which brings me to why I started this blog today... At my Wednesday mother's group I expressed that I have been having a really hard time with compulsive spending & eating, especially because once I am compulsive in the morning, I go for it in the evening, and then the next day, and next day, and soon one day has turned into a week, into a month... so it goes.  Though I have not touched drugs or alcohol since becoming pregnant with my daughter in August of 2009, they told me I am "thinking like an addict."  They said that what I was describing is exactly what happens when an alcoholic falls off the wagon and is suddenly on a six week drinking binge.  Lightbulb moment!

The next day was St. Patrick's Day.  My St. Patty's Days of the past have involved varying levels of sad debauchery.  My lowest point was senior year of college (my loneliest & most isolated year), when I stayed up all night with an emotionally abusive alcoholic pro-life Republican I was sleeping with, went out to the bars at 6 am together, & he proceeded to hit on my friends (in front of me).  (The pain tolerance level of adult children & grandchildren of alcoholics.  Ugh.)

This year I found myself driving home watching all the college students dressed in green, baby girl in the back seat, & missing the taste of alcohol.  I decided it was time to hit my first AA meeting.  I'm proud that I went, as I'm proud anytime I'm taking proactive steps to take care of myself.  I am going to try out different tables & meetings and find the ones that work for me.

I know there is a better world out there for me and my daughter, and I am on the path to find it.  And to create it.

Go mama bear, go!