Why do I fear who I could be… yet another ‘part-one’.

Why do I fear who I could be?

My list of most appreciated and curious compliments received:

1) From my boss at Lake Street Bar & Grill:

“You could have everything and anything you want if you would just get over your insecurities”

2) From Lisa.

“You don’t know how big you are”

3) From Scooch.

“You could rule the world if you’d be confident and own all you have and who you are”

4) From Richard.

“Any man would do anything for you if you asked.”

These people see something in me that I can’t figure out if, maybe I know who that is, but am afraid to unleash and be… or if it’s really something I don’t see and desperately want to realize.

I know there is a part of me that because I’ve always idolized my grandma, I’ve wanted to embody everything she was. From what I remember, that was timeless class, the sweetest soul, and humble, despite the compliments, head turns and gushers, everywhere she turned. She never talked about what she had, or what she lacked. She never let the comments and attention go to her head, and she was kind and generous to everyone she met. THAT is they way I want to be described when I pass too…

I think I have a hard time accepting that I’m very clearly my own, different person.

As a girl growing up, I knew, and would vocalize, that I didn’t want to be like my mom. My mom was described as an alcoholic drunk. She had 5 kids with all different men, and she left or gave away every one of us. In fact I heard just recently that with the middle one, Caitlyn, she had the balls to ask my aunt and uncle to babysit one night, and when they went to pick her up, mom had all of her stuff packed and sort of bombarded them into adopting Caitlyn right then. She was selfish and put herself first.

As I’ve gotten older, through having similar experiences like alcoholism & mental health issues, and from good ol’ age & time, I’ve since come to the conclusion that she was a young girl who had a royally fucked up upbringing, full of incestual rape and holding secrets and family history for 6 younger siblings and parents who didn’t know, and wasn’t given the opportunity to learn any real coping mechanisms. She suffered from bi-polar disorder, and she dealt with her woes, memories and current circumstances, by numbing and staying in constant motion that way nothing had a chance or the time to catch up to her. Over the years, that compiled, and unfortunately life never paused for her to breathe. She stayed living a wild life and with people surrounding her who didn’t want the best for her. No one to truly help her, and ton of those ready to categorize her and justify why they couldn’t be there or wouldn’t give her the real help she needed… which I think was just someone to listen, support, and not leave or hurt her.

That woman I just described, I relate to. Far more than I ever would have imagined when I was young. I used to say that because of her, I had the prime example of who I DIDN’T want to be. That because of my grandma and solely because of, I knew what love and compassion are.

I was born into chaos and there just wasn’t really any way around that. My mom was a prostitute and I believe that when I was born, despite trying to figure out who the dad was/who she wanted the dad to be, and the life she wanted to give me/be relieved of… that she really did love me, but more so, she’d finally felt what it was like to have something unconditionally love her. And like everyone says at funerals, life doesn’t stop even when it feels like just for a period, it should. She still had to work… and she still had to numb. She still had to keep moving. So I was brought around, her object and reminder that she was truly loved, as well as her baggage… To her defense, no one knows of all the ways they’re affecting someones future with their in the moment actions. No one knows, and few really stop to consider the ripple effects. Life goes so quickly, and when you’re living yours in the fast lane like she was, and like I have, you don’t want to pause, because that’s when the skeletons make their appearance and bring you to their depths.

Mom had me in the rooms with her Johns, because where else was she supposed to put a baby/toddler? She also, I believe, didn’t think I’d remember or be aware enough to understand. Which she’s right to an extent. In the moment I don’t believe I understood what was going on. It’s the flashbacks of the few memories I do have, that I started getting as I got older, and trying to trace their roots back, realizations, stories, and connecting the dots, that affect me now.

I 100% don’t believe she thought I would ever be in danger of being raped… I was a baby. Not a even close to a pre-teen like shed been… and because who would do that to a baby/toddler? After what happened with me one of those nights, my mom learned that there are bigger monsters out there than the ones she’d experienced in her youth and beyond. Different anyway. Unfortunately she was reminded again, and again, with every child she had after me too.

It took me many years to be able to understand any of the above, and to have the hurt and confusion, replaced with compassion and empathy. The rape didn’t consciously affect me until I was around 17ish. What I held on to, and what affects me to this day, is the feeling of abandonment, thus, me never feeling I was wanted. Feeling I was baggage. I was a complication and an obligation. I think I’d have dealt with being raped repeatedly, as long as it meant my mom would never leave me like she did when I was 3. She’d flown us to Kent, WA from Nevada, where she’d apparently really buggered something up with some scary people, and ran to keep us safe. I imagine she’d planned all along to leave me with my dad and grandparents, but you wouldn’t know it by the way she actually left. Which was while my grandparents and dad were out, and she put my down for a nap so she could escape through the backdoor.

Today I talk about a Knowing I have. Ill elaborate on that more later, but I think I’ve had it my whole life. At whatever point, I got out of bed from the nap I was supposed to be having and got myself to the back sliding glass door. My grandparents lived on Crest Airport and their house was at the beginning of the airstrip, looking out over The Mountain. Beautiful… but that day forever tainted my memory of it. My mom was walking up the air strip, with her back to me. She wasn’t looking back, because she wasn’t coming back. She’d left me. I was 3 years old but I remember pounding on the glass and screaming and crying for her. As if if I could just get loud enough, she’d turn around and come back to me.

I guess you could say that my life, from the beginning, was always, like everyones, about what you do with your options and what results from the choices you’ve made… Looking back, what its always felt like for me, was that yes I got the freedom of choice, but I was always having to choose from 2 bad situations. IE: having to choose the lesser of two evils.

Anyway, my family decided it wouldn’t be in my best interest to keep me from her, because as it was, I was constantly talking about missing her and wanting to see her, so I got to go and visit her for a month each summer, pretty regularly growing up. My mom came in and out of my life the rest of the time, as she pleased. I think she’d go through her low times of depression and guilt of her own life choices and whatd happened to her, and just want to feel that unconditional love I freely gave her. Unfortunately it also made her nervous… and I think my dad crucified and degraded her so much that combined with the nerves of that and her guilt, she consoled herself with her favorite comfort blanket. By the time she reached my grandparents, which was always unannounced until the yellow cab pulled up into the drive, she was drunk as a skunk. I’d get a glimpse of her as I was ushered past the front door and into the back room, as if I hadn’t at that point been subjected to it yet. Again I think, the idea that I didn’t know what was going on, was a thing.

They say, and I know this from the couple of treatment centers ive gone to, and the many therapists I’ve seen, that the most important and shaping years, are the first 7… Some say first 5, some say first 6.

Fact check me if you’d like.

Heres a familiar name for y’all as I get started:

“Freud, believed that the human personality consisted of three interworking parts: the id, the ego, and the superego; According to his theory, these parts become unified as a child works through the five stages of psychosexual development. These stages are:

Oral/Dependency — Stage One (birth to 1 years old)

This stage takes place from birth to age one. During the oral stage, the infant’s primary source of interaction occurs through the mouth, so the rooting and sucking reflex is especially important. If a child’s oral needs are not met during infancy, he or she may develop negative habits such as nail biting or thumb sucking to meet this basic need.”

I don’t know the specifics or frequency of my moms breast feeding with me. In hindsight and with facts, I’m guessing she didn’t do much of it. There are many pictures of me with a bottle. I know I had a fixation with sucking on my index finger (the others were used to hold my blanky), and I’ve been a nail biter my whole life (I wear acrylics now. Ha.) Also, since my mom was a prostitute, she was busy doing other things with her tee-tas, Im sure. Had to keep the girls aesthetically pleasing, lets say.

“Anal/ Potty Training- Second Stage (1yr -3yrs)

In this second stage, the child learns to control their bodily functions. If not handled properly, then he or she might become anal retentive, controlling, or rigid. This stage takes place from one to three years.

During the anal stage, Freud believed that the primary focus of the libido was on controlling bladder and bowel movements. The major conflict at this stage is toilet training — the child has to learn to control his or her bodily needs. Developing this control leads to a sense of accomplishment and independence.

According to Freud, success at this stage is dependent upon the way in which parents approach to toilet training. Parents who utilize praise and rewards for using the toilet at the appropriate time encourage positive outcomes and help children feel capable and productive.”

Again, I don’t know the specifics or frequency of the piss & reward system I grew up with. I don’t recall hearing any mention of neglect, disregard or harm when I’d shit my pants. However I’ll admit, I am totally, as an adult, controlling of my own life and I think one of the reasons I don’t have any one IN my life now, and/or keep others at an arms length, is because I can’t control them or how they’ll react to me, nor their motives, etc.

“Phallic Stage- Stage Three (3–4yrs)

In this stage, the child becomes aware of male and female. Personality is fully developed by this stage. During this stage, preschoolers take pleasure in their genitals and, according to Freud, begin to struggle with sexual desires toward the opposite sex parent (boys to mothers and girls to fathers).

For boys, this is called the Oedipus complex, involving a boy’s desire for his mother and his urge to replace his father who is seen as a rival for the mother’s attention. The Electra complex is the female version where the female child has anger toward her mother.”

Insane to me that personality is developed at this stage. And if that really, truly is the case… well, I can look back and say: yep ok, I was shuffled around from place to place like luggage, left and abandoned with a man who made it clear from before day one, that he didn’t want me and I was an obligation and the physical repercussion from fucking a prostitute on a business trip. Those are facts by the way. Not assumptions or just my take on it. Facts.

I am, and always have been (didn’t know there was a word for me until the last 2–3 years), 180% codependent. Which I’d just like to say, is an extremely shitty and fucked up realization, as is the acceptance of such a preposterous naked truth. One of which was brought to my attention from an outsider… not even someone close to me. So naturally at that time, I laughed it off as a meaningless critique from a nobody. I gave it no second thought. Not until it then seemed to be everyones favorite adjective for Chelsea, did I start taking it more seriously. But hey… although codependency is something that can be developed and ‘cured’ at any point in life really, I’m going to elaborate here a bit, and show how it has been me since my “Phallic Stage” (disgusting word btw)…

“The Development of Codependency: 6 Signs of a Codependent Relationship | Psychology Today

At birth, we are intrinsically vulnerable and utterly dependent on our caregivers for food, safety, and regulation. An infant’s attachment and bonding to one or more caregivers is critical for physical and emotional survival. This fundamental attachment makes the infant reliant on the needs and vulnerabilities of the caregiver.

Growing up with an unreliable or unavailable parent means taking on the role of caretaker and/or enabler. A child in this situation puts the parent’s needs first. Dysfunctional families do not acknowledge that problems exist. As a result, its members repress emotions and disregard their own needs to focus on the needs of the unavailable parent(s). When the “parentified” child becomes an adult, he or she repeats the same dynamic in their adult relationships.

Resentment builds when you don’t recognize your own needs and wants. A common behavioral tendency is to overreact or lash out when your partner lets you down. Lacking an internal focus of control means searching for external sources of validation and control. You might try to control your partner’s behaviors so you can feel OK. You might act self-righteous and bossy, and make unreasonable demands on your partner. And when you realize you cannot control his or her moods or actions you become disappointed, and may slide into a depressed state.”

The realness that is that clip above… is just… not nice and I don’t want to digest and accept it, but I’d be a liar if I said I were anything but codependent. My mom was a young, alcoholic living day to day just trying to survive her (past and present) demons, and my dad was/is a young, clinically diagnosed narcissist who I think (biased opinion) stopped maturing at the age I landed in his life… so, 23 years old. In my mind, I wasn’t worth my mom keeping, and I wasn’t good enough, smart enough, or worth giving time to, to my dad. Also- lets rip this bandaid off too, since this is a good time to piggy back… I was born with Binder Syndrome, which is where a white person is born with Asian facial features… ß this is what I prefer to start with… because the latter, hurts. Or I can put my fear of being judged as stupid or any of the other unfortunate things people think and say, aside, and say what it really is/was, when broken down to lament terms. FAS. Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. I was born with a flat face- or the physical attributes of FAS. My jaw was set back and a little off to the right, and my nose was completely, well… flat. You could hold a book, or a ruler, or yanno… anything flat, up to the profile of my face and you’d see that my face was in fact, flat.

And there ya have it. Except not completely, because I’d already had my jaw surgery in that left picture. Now… we can all agree that kids are mean… they are. They’re fucking ruthless and mean when young. Like little fucking relentless hyenas. But truthfully, adults weren’t any better. On to more of the affects of THAT, later.

I’m fortunate enough to have come from a very pretty family. A great gene pool. The men are all handsome, pompous, narcissists, and the women are submissive dime pieces… cliché and right with the times I suppose. But hey, theyre gorgeous and can put on a hell of a, everything-is-perfect show.

Moving on…The way I looked, never seemed to bother my mom, at least not from any way I remember… M dad though… He had a complex of sorts about it- again, this is a biased opinion. Not only did he not want me to begin with (my grandparents cracked the whip on that one), but I was also a constant, needy reminder of a decision he regretted and looked back on with disgust… he hated my mother and I, and my face, was a physical reminder of everything wrong with her. As if she were a witch and made him make the choice he did. Pfft.

I grew up with him continually making excuses for my Being (which was, reactive, emotional, and well, reactive! Oh and rebellious. I might’ve always been down-to-the-bone, rebellious) to any and all. I started running away when I was 5 (refer back to my moms irish goodbye- funny ha, because I’m Irish AF. My last name is McCormack… Ok yes, that was a bad “dad pun”) and that continued throughout my adolescent life. I also used to have MAJOR tantrums. Screaming/crying/snot everywhere- the works… and, as a therapist pointed out, I learned early that “any attention was good attention, even if its bad”. Praise and building me up or supporting me, wasn’t his MO, but critiquing and telling me the ways I could’ve done better, were. My dad also used FAS as an explanation for why I didn’t apply myself in school and for looking as I did. I must (I’m saying this as sarcastically and unenthused as possible) ‘not have been capable’.

What's the popular quote?

“Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing its stupid.”

I hated/hate math and have never done well with numbers. It’s like Chinese to me. I ALSO have zero desire TO be good at math. It is uninteresting and a bunch of ishkabibble if you ask me. Now, reading and writing? That was and has always been my jam. I had a 7th grade reading level by the time I was in 2nd grade, I won spelling bees and poetry contests (all of which my dad was too busy with volleyball games and such, to attend) all the time. I excelled in this area. Why? I think because they were outlets for me to escape reality and get lost in a different world.

What my dad wanted and continued to look for (I saw many psychologists and took many tests to see ‘what else’ was wrong with me- which for the record, only ever came back with unconfirmed answers and a finger pointed in the FAS direction, as being the only medical possibility for why my emotions were high and I was slower in areas/short attention span at school) were OTHER justifications besides his possible neglectful, fair-to-middling parenting. He felt better with a derogatory label and explanation that he could flippantly dole out as an excuse for having a child that looked retarded and acted out.

Because of this, I grew up volleying between codependently agreeing with everything he said & believed in, and trying my hardest to impress him in the fields I knew he approved of and the attitude of fuck it, fuck you, and I’m going to piss you the fuck off.

If you asked me what my favorite number was, up until the last couple of years, I’d have responded, “15”. Why? Because it was his favorite number. If I remember correctly it was his lacrosse jersey number. If you asked me what artificial flavor I disliked most and which I liked best? I dislike cherry because it tastes like medicine and I love banana because well… nom. Fact? Those are my dads answers. In actuality, I don’t mind cherry at all and ok, I do love banana because, nom. Also… banana laffy taffys? The shit.

But the point was… I grew up codependent from the very start. It’s a fucked up thing to have to try to reverse now at 32 years old, and shines light to the fact that I really have no idea who I am. Only through trial and error and making the wrong choices, with the wrong people, and bad experiences, have I been able to slowly figure out what I truly, to my core, don’t like or who I don’t want to be. And as I type this, I’m having an ah-ha moment.

“Why not go the other way and try a bunch of awesome things and experiences and see what you like and don’t like that way?” I’ve been asked… and believe me, I repeat this to myself frequently. I think, its because the world has dubbed and labeled what is awesome and socially acceptable and pounded it in our heads so much that we’re all sort of codependent to whomever has made the Status Quo… and just like everyone runs around saying and trying to portray this ‘perfect’ or better-than-yours life, I know most of it is bullshit. I don’t want to drink the koolaid… mmk? So id rather find out for myself I guess, by taking the rough, bumpy and dangerous roads. At least that’s BEEN my way of doing things, for so long that I think part of me is afraid and not sure how to try things on the other side of the spectrum. Which is a conundrum.

I have always been a hard-headed pain in the ass though. At 5 years old, on Thanksgiving Day at my grandparents, I was helping my grandma (favorite person in the world and one I’d always respected) cook something… the stove top was fire red, and before stepping away she told me “Chelsea see how that’s red? That means its very very hot. Don’t touch that ok? It will hurt”. She turned around towards the sink and WHAM! Full 5 fingered palm, straight down on the hellish, skin bubbling demon that was that stove top. I just had to find out for myself. Needless to say I ruined the holiday that year… but hey, lesson learned- my grandma waaaas right. That shit was hot, and no, I had no desire to ever do that again! Smh.

Upon further contemplation- I feel I should mention another thing a therapist brought up to me at one point… because I grew up in chaos, that is where my comfort zone is. I'm used to shit getting out of whack and going south, and things all awry. It’s when things are calm and consistent, that I freak out and get, historically/typically, self destructive. I don’t trust consistency and I do trust that I can rely on the rug always being pulled out from under me.

Queue:

“Latency Period — Stage Four (4–6yrs old to adolescence)

The stage begins around the time that children enter school and become more concerned with peer relationships, hobbies, and other interests. Children begin to behave in morally acceptable ways and adopt the values of their parents and other important adults.

The latent period is a time of exploration in which sexual energy is still present, but it is directed into other areas such as intellectual pursuits and social interactions. This stage is important in the development of social and communication skills and self-confidence.”

I’ll give my dad props for this- Major, life changing props that I am eternally grateful for. I could see it in his face every day he picked me up from school or daycare and I’d be crying from being made fun of… he’d console me as best he could but it was what he taught me, that got me through every day. That was to be confident… even if I had to fake it. He taught me that because I didn’t have looks to fall back on, I was going to have to rely on my personality to make friends and to have and project confidence. I was building tough skin that was going to help me for years to come. Kids are mean. Let it all roll off your back.

I learned from my own experience to not put others down, and I always tried to help the underdog feel welcome and accepted. I never had a problem making friends and as my dad would say, I was a Leader. He’d bring up many times over the years, how he’d come to pick me up from daycare one day and I’d gotten all 20 of the kids to hand-make him a birthday present to give him when he came. Ha. Those are memories I cherish.

My grandparents love combined with my favorite quote growing up by the lovely Eleanor Roosevelt: “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent” (If I could’ve gotten that tattooed in elementary school, I bet ya your juice box that I would’ve) kept my heart soft where it could’ve easily have grown cold & bitter instead. I thank god I had them- all of them- for those shaping years.

Genital — Stage Five (Adolescence to adulthood)

Starting from age 12 to the peak of puberty, this stage is classified by the reawakening of sexual interest. During the final stage of psychosexual development, the individual develops a strong sexual interest in the opposite sex. This stage begins during puberty but last throughout the rest of a person’s life

If the other stages have been completed successfully, the individual should now be well-balanced, warm, and caring. The goal of this stage is to establish a balance between the various life areas.

For Freud, childhood experiences shape our personalities and behavior as adults. Freud viewed development as discontinuous; he believed that each of us must pass through a series of stages during childhood and that if we lack proper nurturing and parenting during a Stage, we may become stuck in that stage.”

Stages of Shaping Personality (iedunote.com)

I don’t know what to say about that last stage really… I think I’ve always been uncomfortable with sex for a combination of reasons, for years. Being sexually abused as a child being one of the reasons, but also learning and experiencing that sex/aesthetics became all anyone cared about after a certain age, made it a real turn off for me.

Something I’ve still got to do some major therapy for is the animosity and disgust I have for exactly that. The weight people hold on aesthetics, and sex. After my surgeries in high school, I was treated night and day different. I went from the popular guys in my high school being my friends, or making fun of me, to all of a sudden they were asking me out. Every one looked at me differently and judged me differently. Where as pre surgery, people used to show genuine curiosity and interest about what came out of my mouth, now I was judged by looks first… in a more negative way than before. I was written off as a shallow, bitchy, dumb, spoiled, pompous girl, without even having met me or having a conversation. I hold a LOT of animosity now because of that. YES, I can’t say that the way I look now, hasn’t also given me many opportunities that I wouldn’t have otherwise been offered or experienced. I’m very grateful for most of that aspect… but even then, I hold animosity on the underbelly of each opportunity that I know was only handed to me because of aesthetics. What I grew up with… the knowing it was personality that was going to get me anywhere in the world, no longer mattered. That is still, a very difficult pill for me to digest. It angers me beyond measure and will set me off at the drop of a ‘well look at you, you’ve clearly never lived a rough day in your life’.

So that last stage? Eh… I’m not entirely sure how my adolescent years directly correlate with that… at least in a simple way.

Now this is just Freuds stages… I’ve attached the link above so you can read others different ‘Stages’… I more or less posted this to give a general outline for how our childhood experiences and environments grown up in, influence who we become, in how we perceive ourselves and project ourselves to the world.

“Data from Harvard University shows the brain develops rapidly during the first years of life. Before children turn 3 years old, they’re already forming 1 million neural connections every minute. These links become the brain’s mapping system, formed by a combination of nature and nurture, especially “serve and return” interactions.

In a baby’s first year of life, cries are common signals for a caregiver’s nurturing. The serve and return interaction here is when the caregiver responds to the baby’s crying by feeding them, changing their diaper, or rocking them to sleep.

However, as infants become toddlers, serve and return interactions can be expressed by playing make-believe games, too. These interactions tell children that you’re paying attention and engaged with what they’re trying to say. It can form the foundation for how a child learns social norms, communication skills, and relationship ins and outs.

As a toddler, my daughter loved playing a game where she’d flip off the lights and say, “Go to sleep!” I’d close my eyes and flop over on the couch, making her giggle. Then she’d command me to wake up. My responses were validating, and our back-and-forth interaction became the heart of the game.

“We know from neuroscience that neurons that fire together, wire together,” says Hilary Jacobs Hendel, a psychotherapist specializing in attachment and trauma. “Neural connections are like the roots of a tree, the foundation from which all growth occurs,” she says.

This makes it seem like life stressors — such as financial worries, relationship struggles, and illness — will severely impact your child’s development, especially if they interrupt your serve and return interactions. But while the fear that an overly busy work schedule or that the distraction of smartphones may cause lasting, negative effects can be a concern, they don’t make anyone a bad parent.

Missing occasional serve and return cues won’t halter our kid’s brain development. This is because intermittent “missed” moments don’t always become dysfunctional patterns. But for parents who have continuous life stressors, it’s important to not neglect engaging with your children during these early years.”

First Seven Years of Childhood: Are They the Most Important? (healthline.com)

Potato, tomato, no? Interesting facts huh. Anything I would’ve personally added to the above, I feel I already made mention of in the above, above.

Soooo, moving on:

Consider some of the far less talked about BENEFITS trauma raised children experience that’s unlike those with healthy upbringings… (this varies of course)

1) Can have exponentially more empathy than most adults.

Why? Because one has experienced so much (for example) degrading, physical and emotional abuse, they know what it feels like to feel like theyre nothing. So when they see others in pain, physical or emotional, they feeeel that. They don’t want anyone to feel like they did. So they uplift and do what they can to help/prevent others from feeling that way.

2) Enhanced ability to read the room/body language, etc.

Why? When growing up in a trauma inducing environment where you had to be on guard, ready to run/hide, or know how you need to act in order to illicit or compress others… you learn to adapt or manipulate a room to an extent: meaning, for example, if dad comes home from work, you’ve learned that if his eyebrows are furrowed and his hands are clenched white on his briefcase, that he was going to explode, so it was best to run and hide, or not talk, or not look him in the eyes, etc. Or maybe you know what will change his mood around and you switch things up in that way to entice a better mood. This becomes common practice as if it were a quality you were born with. It’s survival.

3) An enhanced ability to foresee outcomes and/or a sensitivity/ability to anticipate future outcomes or the needs of others. (This goes with number 2 a bit.)

Why? Similar to what I said above… it becomes a survival instinct. When you don’t have control of your environment yourself, you learn to watch, observe, listen and then act/react accordingly. Body language, vocal tones, eyes… the shift of energy in the atmosphere… You’re just more sensitive and aware of it all, because you’ve always had to be.

4) Heightened Self-Awareness.

Why? Example: You know if you have this tone with so and so, it will and has historically resulted in this reaction… If you say this, or carry yourself that way, or do this or that, the reaction from so and so, will be this… Again, its survival. You check yourself so you don’t wreck yourself. And this results in a lot of self-analyzation (no, really? She says as she's written all of this) to see where you could’ve done better, differently or otherwise.

I feel like any time I bring up my upbringing and go into detail, I sound like I’m looking for sympathy and being a whiny Wendy.

Get off your soap box chels.

It’ll only define you if you let it.

You can’t change the past, you can only live now and move forward.

“Pretend your past is perfect” a friend once told me. Why did he tell me that? Because my past haunts me, and I guess I let it. If I could pretend it was perfect then it wouldn’t affect me in the way it so obviously does daily, now.

I suppose the reason I am writing any of this right now is for a number of reasons… I feel misunderstood and feel that by getting this all out, that somehow justifies where I am and what I’m doing with my life right now. I also feel that I’m trying to lay it all out like a timeline to dissect, so that just maybe I can look at it objectively, and figure out where exactly, I’ve created these self-deprecating thoughts that feel so innately part of me. Thus being able to grab control and change my outlook. Sort of like, for example, when I was little and had night terrors… one of my first ever therapists said that if we could just put meaning to the dream (in this case I had a repetitive dream), that that would help my brain release it and voila, no more nightmare. We attached meaning I could understand to the dream, and poof, the dream went away.

I DO want to be able to live a better life. I DO want to confidently step into who I am, or could be. I think, like I treat most everything… If I can just understand the roots of something or someone, then I can wrap my head around what makes them tick now and why they do what they do… thus finding compassion for them and knowing how to then help them (myself in this case). I know part of that is just an unfortunate human trait (what I said above is a twist on it). We don’t like, and typically fear what we don’t understand.

I’d also like to say, G… whatever your ways are, are crazy haha haven’t talked to you in a week or so and as I’m making mention of you, my notifications pop up alerting me of a new message from you. Freaky… haha. That’s that energy frequency boogy boogy. *insert spirit fingers and magic sparklies coming out of em*.

_______________________ Ill be back. Think I got out the crying that I needed to. I SHALL continue this eventually.