A letter to my greatest teachers

To all of my life’s greatest teachers-

Remember when I was little and would fall and scrap my knee, and you would say “what the f*** did you do that for you idiot?”.

Remember when I was 12 and you took a liking to me. You were the first man to assault me in this way. You stole a part of my innocence. A part of me you were never given permission to access. Eventually, I got tired of fighting back and my brain tagged in to rescue me. After that the years were awfully fuzzy. I hated my body. I could never seem to get rid of the slime I felt coating over me. I hated what had happened to me, and I no longer felt safe in my own skin. I didn’t know any different, now I do. My body is sacred. No one will ever have access to it without my consent, for as long as I live.

Remember when you forgot my birthday, 7 years in a row. By the 3rd year, I stopped talking about my birthday or expecting to receive any acknowledgement or celebration.

Remember when I would beg you to stop, to leave me alone, and after unrelenting my only defense left was to scratch or push you away. Then you would tell me how abusive I was and refuse to talk to me for days on end. You had me so convinced I was a terrible human being, that deserved everything bad that happened to me.

Remember the times you went months without speaking to me because I stood up for myself, and for my family.

Remember the first day I brought my first born home from the hospital, and you told me I was doing everything wrong.

Remember all the times I went to you for you to support, guidance, or for you to intervene and I was told to let it go, not talk about, that I am being too sensitive, they didn’t mean it like that, that’s just the way things are, that I hurt your feelings, how dare I talk to you like that, people make mistakes when they are drinking, or you don’t know what you’re supposed to say. Now all these years later, you ask me why I don’t come to you with my problems. I learned a long time ago, no matter how ill equipped or hurting I am, I feel better and safer being alone with these things.

 Remember yesterday when you accused me of relapsing and showing such intense concern for my children. When you screamed at me, and I told you that I do not allow anyone to talk to me like that anymore. Out of all the things you have done to me, yesterday was in the topmost despicable. I will give you the benefit of the doubt that your intent was good. Your delivery, accusations, and lack of accountability on the other hand, inexcusable.

The fact you would even question my ability to care for my children is deplorable. I have never met another parent who loves their children more fiercely or tirelessly than me. I have also done this nearly unsupported since they were born. I am the first to admit that I am scatterbrained at times. I am literal squirrel, I’m forgetful, I lose things, and I’m easily distracted, and I have too many things going on at once. I’ve also had difficulties with trusting my thoughts at times due to so much manipulation. This cognitive dissonance, increased levels of cortisol, and damage to my amygdala, these are all symptoms of the Complex ptsd I have been diagnosed with. The thing is when a person experiences abuse at such a high frequency and intensity for prolonged periods of time (my entire human existence), it’s impossible to leave that unscathed. Instead of criticizing me for my shortcomings, or human flaws (remember none of us are perfect), how about we equally lift up the fact I have survived all this shit. On top of that I am a single mom going through an over yearlong divorce, impending bankruptcy, I’m running my own practice, repairing literally and metaphorical damage to my home, and ensuring that my children and myself are healing and thriving through physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. I no longer look to you for this validation, or for permission to make mistakes and have human moments. I now give this to myself freely and often.

Let me remind you, I am 15 years sober. I chose that for myself. I have implemented boundaries for you to not drink when you are at my home, and I do not talk to you when I can hear the change in your voice.  I chose to quit using alcohol before I walked the same path that had been modeled to me. I have eliminated countless people and behaviors in my life that do not support or align with these choices.

Do you remember these things? I do. These are just the ones that rolled off the top of my head. It may be painful for you to listen to, to be reminded of the past. Imagine how painful it was for me to experience and carry around silently all these years.

It seems your narrative is that I am not doing well, or I have not changed for the better. You’re entitled to your opinion, but I’m not looking for anyone else’s interpretation on my life. Could it be possible that I have chosen to distance myself from you, on my own accord, without the need to have any person or substance influencing my decision? That’s the difference between you and I, I sit with myself. I face things head on. It shouldn’t be a wonder why I am so quiet or distant these days. I’ve had to catch my breath, over and over again after sitting with and honoring all these past versions of myself. This past year I have unpacked 38 years’ worth of heinous abuse. I’ve been in a war zone, just within the confounds of my own mind. 

I have had to calmly, quietly, and lovingly build trust and peace within myself to convince these parts of me that it’s finally safe to step into the light. Then as they surfaced, I’ve felt the full intensity of these experiences. The first go round, I was in the back of my brain, while they tagged in for the heavy blows. So forgive me, if I am giving them, myself the time needed to breath, process, and heal. It takes time for a cut to scab over. It takes even longer for the scar to fade, if it ever does.

Yesterday, this fell on deaf ears. I understand that you are not at a place in life where you are able to comprehend or receive this. So, today I am not saying it for you. I am saying it to validate and honor myself. You are right, I don’t reach out as often anymore, I don’t ask you for advice, I don’t seek your approval, or even your companionship. This is not because I am falling apart or need some intervention on my life. This is because for the first time ever, I am living, not just surviving. The past 6 months, but truly the past couple, I am thriving. Maybe not to your standards, what you feel I should or should not be doing or saying. I have found myself, I have come home to myself, and I absolutely adore myself. I have finally found peace within myself. I choose solitude, because it’s been in those moments that I have finally been able to hear my own internal voice. All this time, my internal dialogue had been clogged with your anxieties, insecurities, abuse, and projections. Offering myself the time and space to quiet my mind has allowed me to realize none of that was ever mine. I should have known. I don’t talk like that to anyone, I wouldn’t have talked to myself like that willingly. It turns out that dialogue was always yours, you had taken up real estate and airspace in my mind. I’ve sorted through the trash, and eviction notices have been served. Time for you to kick rocks.

I used to think that if I were good enough, kind enough, helpful enough, agreeable enough things would get better. I was so convinced that my lot in life was to sacrifice my happiness for others. I have never begrudged you all or my trauma history. I have even thanked it for helping to shape me into the human I am today. I’ve known my soul’s purpose is to help others. It wasn’t until recently though that I understood and believed that it was also my soul’s purpose to help and love myself.

Believe it or not, I have never met another human who has done as much internal work as I have. There is not a single aspect of me that I have not looked at, good, bad, and indifferent. I have sat with the mistakes I’ve made, the abuse I’ve endured and perpetuated, the pain I’ve caused, and the monumental amount of tenacity and strength I have cultivated to get myself where I am today.

It might be hard for you to understand and accept, but it has to be done. I am not the same person I was before. Not even the same version I was yesterday. All those past versions of me are protected under angel’s wings and scattered to breath fresh air with the wildflowers.

I am not perfect, nor will I ever be. But I am doing the absolute best I can, and I am learning and growing every day. I am so proud of myself for standing up to you, all of you, for standing up for myself. I have had enough. I deserve better, and I will no longer settle for anything less.

Thank you for the lessons. I wish you well. Now stay the f*** over there.