#tammyblackday

[tammyblackday]

Grace.

I cannot count how many times this week I have heard, "You're too hard on yourself."

I am.

It comes from decades of adapting my behavior to fit societal norms unsuccessfully. I'm tired.

I also feel blessed that I've worked hard in my life to surround myself with people who are kind and compassionate to everyone they know. They are the ones who remind me to be more gracious with myself. To be kind and self-compassionate. To acknowledge my accomplishments and my well-lived life, despite having struggled internally for 52 years.

Small blessings arise from this diagnosis.

[tammyblackday]

Adjusting.

My diagnosis changes nothing and everything simultaneously.

The past few days have been filled with reflection on the past and hopes for my future. I've spent my days relaxing, renegotiating my commitments just long enough to allow me time to care for me, which is something I've not always been focused on doing.

Don't get me wrong, I've spent tons of time focused on healing me; just not on caring for me. I was taught my whole life that I was broken, awkward, and needed to be fixed... i.e. healed.

I now know that I wasn't broken or needed fixing, and though I certainly needed healing from the trauma and abuse I've endured throughout my lifetime and I might be a little awkward; there was nothing "wrong" with me.

I'm slowing learning about what is called AuDHD (Autism & ADHD). I'm learning that most of my life has been a struggle because my brain works differently at processing information. There are characteristics true with autism that are almost opposite of ADHD, for some people. For example, people with autism often need routines and predictability to function; whereas people with ADHD often crave spontaneity, struggle with keeping routines and remembering to do things.

Both are true simultaneously for me.

Now that I've been on ADHD meds for two months, I've lost my ADHD drive for spontaneity and lean so heavy into my routines that the slightest changes spin me out of my own ability to manage my life. If I fail to do any part of my routine, I cannot do much for the rest of my day. My diagnosis day turned into three days of interruptions in my routines.

I understand why people often stop taking medications after not being medicated their whole lives. It feels like I'm not me anymore. Now, some people say that means I'm on the wrong meds and that could be true. I'll work that part out with the doctor. However, there are certain things I love about the medication; most of my "racing" thoughts have quieted. Once I start a task, I'm able to complete it before getting distracted by another. I've no desire to drink alcohol or to overeat. In fact, I cannot do those things without getting ill.

Still. I just don't feel like me. I've lost my vivacious zest for life and trying new things. I've been home for a week. I've only left the house once to move my car from the driveway and put it back later. That's it. I feel safe at home. I'm not overstimulated. I'm simply being.

And, I feel the depression setting in. I just don't know what to do, other than to get back to the routines that help me reach my goals and navigate each day. I will continue to embrace my news and share as I learn more about who I am, and how I want to show up.

[tammyblackday]

Autism.

It's official. Level 1 Autism: "Requiring Support" w/ ADHD and Major Depressive Disorder.

This is my diagnosis.

I can't say that any of it surprises me, certainly validates me, but it definitely explains me and my experiences throughout my life; even just today.

See, today, I'm overstimulated because my live-in kid quit her job with my husband without telling me and now she's home all day yesterday and today. I didn't know and have been on heightened alert because I thought I was home alone. Once I adapted to realizing she was home, I started hearing "other" noises... only to learn that my husband's son is downstairs working despite me asking for it to wait until after 6pm tonight because I needed to work in quiet.

In an attempt to settle myself a bit before getting my diagnosis at 11am, I participated in an international zoom call with women from all over the world promoting peace and empathy regarding the conflict/war in Gaza. Many of the women living less than 1/2 a mile from the warzone. Overwhelmed with empathy, I got off the call just in time for my doctor's appt via zoom, that failed twice before I took the appointment as a phone call. I then tried processing all the information I'd received when I ended up on a call with my dear friend Paula in Panama. It was during this call that I finally realized my kid was still here... then realized someone is working downstairs.

I've applied for accommodations at Gonzaga, but now I'm panicking over it because I don't want to make excuses or do anything that jeopardizes my work on my PhD; even though I know this is silly, it still concerns me. Oh, and it's almost time for me to teach- two hours straight of student speeches that I'd rather not hear/grade because I'm over-stimulated and should probably just cancel class but won't.

[tammyblackday]

Coffee.

I remember the first time I ever went into a coffee shop by myself to order a drink. The place was Moxi Java in Ontario, Oregon. I'd never gone into any place like it because I didn't know what to expect or how to order. My fear over change and sounding "stupid" almost kept me from it. There was just something about their logo and colors that felt enticing, and I'd always wondered what a fancy coffee would taste like.

The first time I went in, I was so overwhelmed by all the choices and the hustle/bustle of a new business that I ran out in a full blown panic. I cried of embarrassment in my car, then drove past it for weeks on end before I finally tried again.

It was a day that had hardly any customers. Instead of trying to figure out what everything was, I asked the cashier (I didn't know they were called baristas at the time) what their favorite drink was and he rattled off something that sounded like a foreign language to me. He could tell by the look on my face that I was confused. I explained that I'd never been in a coffee shop before or ordered a specialty coffee. He asked me if I liked chocolate, and I said I did. He recommended I tried an iced mocha with chocolate fudge syrup, so I did and I was hooked. That became my go-to drink until they closed their doors years later. I never tried anything else because the drink was so good I didn't want anything to spoil it for me.

I was sad when they went out of business because no one else since has carried chocolate fudge syrup. I did purchase a glass coffee decanter with their logo etched into it. It still sits on my counter as a reminder that doing hard things means trying new things first. Moxi Java was the first step I ever took out of my comfort zone. It lead me down a path of education and adventure.

I still get a little nervous when I go new places. I just remind myself that sometimes my favorite things are waiting for me on the other side of it.

Today, I get my autism results.

[tammyblackday]

Quirks.

I learn tomorrow of my autism assessment results. It is a curious feeling I have about it all. The more I research, the more I resonate with this potential diagnosis. However, I also keep doubting myself. Like, did I research it so much that I started claiming my behaviors to be something different because I've never really quite felt like I fit in anywhere.

I can't count how many times I've been told I'm different. What I do doesn't make sense. I'm too loud. I dress too weird. I ask too many questions. I'm too nosey.

I've spent most of my adult life associating all of my seemingly odd behaviors with my trauma. It's a lot of trauma. Pages. Enough to write a book, though when I did start writing a book so many people got angry with me. It was yet another social rejection I couldn't manage through all the other events and situations happening in my life.

This is why I'm fairly certain I'm autistic. I've no coping skills. I've most always been a sort of loner, marching to the beat of my own drum, in my own line, surrounded by other people who shamed me for all the noise I was making. So much so that I finally stopped my proverbial drumming.

I stopped writing. I stopped hiking. I stopped taking photos. I stopped singing. I stopped acting. I stopped laughing.

I stopped living.

Now... I mostly work. I study. I research. I doom scroll. I sit in silence.

This morning while I was taking a shower, I started thinking to myself all of the odd things I do that annoy others:

I can't eat certain foods because of the smell and texture. I can't wear certain clothes because of how it feels on my skin. I hate showers because I can't stand water in my face. If I don't take a shower every single day, I feel depressed. I hate the feel of wet sand stuck between my toes. I hate food, especially meat, getting stuck between my teeth. I hate when people touch me without warning. I can't stand the sound of fans, especially the loud ones in bathrooms. I hate yellow or florescent bright lights. I hate the new bright, blue, daylight bulbs on new cars because it blinds me at night. I can't stand too many sounds all at once, like someone talking over the radio or a tv. I hate so many smells like fish, garbage, fake rose scents, and body odor. I can't lie very well but I do try if I think the truth of something I've done, even when it's not "bad," might hurt their feelings. I carry the shame of it deeply. I hate when people put food/food wrappers in the bathroom garbage. I hate when people put toilet paper/toiletries in the kitchen garbage. I hate when people eat or drink in the bathroom. I gag when I see non-"bathroom" garbage in the bathroom garbage. Anything that says it's "unscented" is a lie. It all has smells, and some of it is horrible. I hate the seat belt warning "ding" in vehicles, as I feel like I want to explode anger when it happens. I hate socks. I hate the feel of my feet on dirty floors but love to walk in the grass or on the beach. I hear electricity. I hear outside noises like wind, rain, cars, people, and pets. I hate salt water sensory deprivation tanks. I hate the darkness but can't sleep when there's any kind of light shining from anywhere, unless it's soft, green.

I hate when people tell an exact time they plan on coming home, over, or want to meet me when what they really mean is "ish" or "around" this time. For example, someone might say they're on their way over. I know it takes five minutes to get in their car, 20 minutes from their destination to my house, and five minutes to get to my door. I'll expect them in 30 minutes, so when they're later than 30 minutes I start to have panic attacks thinking they've been in an accident and I can't focus on anything until they arrive. However, if someone says, "I might come over," then I tell myself they'll likely not show up. It's always a pleasant surprise if/when they do.

Everything must stay in its original place when not in use, unless I'm the one who moved it. Most people find this to be a control tactic towards them.

It is not.

If I didn't move it, then I can't find it and this will be the catalyst for a complete emotional breakdown if I'm in the middle of a sensory overload. As a result, I pre-emptively prepare for the worst case scenario by keeping everything in it's place.

I hate when people ask me why I'm doing something a certain way but what they're really trying to do is berate me about doing it differently that what they believe is correct.

I feel energy.

When someone is screaming in pain or anger, I can feel the energy of them come at me like a wave of pain or anger. It causes me to panic, as if something horrible or hurtful is actually happening to me. The same is true with laughter and joy. I feel it coming at me as it fills me up with love, as if it is actually happening to me. I love hot baths and swimming in heated pools because the water envelopes my body and feels safe, like a warm hug. I love laughing. I love my husband. I love my children. I love my family. I love my girlfriends who know me and accept me for exactly how I am. I love poetry. I love words. I'm loud. I love music. I love growing house plants and outdoor flowers. I love hot air balloon rides because once you're high enough, it's so quiet.

I love quiet.

When I first started learning about autism, someone mentioned "info-dumping" as a one characteristic I might experience. I immediately thought, I don't do that. I was thinking of the character Sheldon Cooper from Big Bang Theory tv show and how he knew everything about trains. This morning, as I tried to explain to my husband why I sometimes repeat myself or talk over the top of him... I was info dumping what I'd learned thus far about autism and adhd. It's also why I teach. I get to share everything I know about communication and public speaking with people who want to hear what I have to say, without interruption if I'm lecturing and no one has questions.

I guess my point is that I know who I am. It doesn't matter if I have autism or not. I have a full understanding of who I am. It doesn't matter why I am.

Though... it could be helpful.

[tammyblackday]

Projection.

"Projection is the process of displacing one’s feelings onto a different person, animal, or object," (Psychology Today).

I'm not exactly sure what is going on, but it feels like I'm suddenly the target of others' projected feelings about other things. Yesterday, I got told to leave the church's membership meeting because I had nothing of value to offer the toxic, heated conversation where a complete stranger was nasty and accused me of doing something I hadn't done. This morning, my husband is in a bad mood and taking it out on me all because I asked if I'd done something wrong.

It's one of my least favorite experiences when people project on to me their internal struggles. I get that not everyone is skilled in the art of assertiveness or clearly communicating in healthy, nonviolent ways. I understand that sometimes people don't exactly know what's happening internally, but to lash out at the people who are trying to help? It makes no sense.

It would be more productive and healing for the people at the church to say, "We feel abandoned by our Spiritual Leader and we don't know why she's blaming others for her decision to resign," than it is to snap at a potential new member who brings 20 years of leadership and enthusiasm.

It would be more nurturing to simply say, "Good morning. Just so you know, I'm in a bad mood this morning. It's got nothing to do with you and I'll try to be kind. I'm having a rough time of it though," than to start yelling at me for trying to read the room when I typically get a "good morning" with a kiss.

I feel so hurt. Plus, it causes an unnecessary distraction from the work I need to manage today. How do I concentrate?

[tammyblackday]

Focus.

My goal was to write daily. It's been nearly a month. It turned out that my grandson was coming down with RSV and passed it along to us. It hit me the hardest in the house. I was sick for nearly three weeks, still coughing a bit but am finally feeling more like me.

Classes started back up. I'm excited to have a consistent schedule. All three colleges started on the same day, and I'm basically on the same track with all five classes. Then, my courses for my doctorate started this past week. Needless to say, I'm busy and overwhelmed. However, I'm managing it differently. I think the ADHD meds are starting to level out a bit. Not all the "noise" is gone, but I'm more likely to focus on completing one task at a time versus getting overwhelmed and feeling like everything needs done right now and all at once.

I go to get my autism assessment tomorrow. I keep being told to just "be yourself" but I'm still trying to figure out who I am without trying to be who I think everyone else wants me to be. I now realize that I spent so much of my life trying to be like other people or trying not to be like certain people that I do not exactly know how to people for me.

Here is what I do know about me:

It is easiest on my sensory system to stay home.

I love adventures and exploring, as I am a curious person.

I get overwhelmed by the unpredictability of busy/occupied spaces like the grocery store or a concert.

I am a genuinely happy person but cannot control my emotional responses very well when I am oversitmulated.

I love to laugh and am fun to be around because I do not follow social cues very well, thus I do not feel embarrassment at the time of my unusual actions; though I often feel remorseful and judged after.

I love bright and colorful clothing, though currently I am mostly wearing black because the clothes are soft and unfortunately not made in other colors.

I love jewelry and bling, though I often wear the same things because it is routine and I have to make too many other decisions in my life. Choosing which jewelry to wear each day could take me up to an hour of time and exhaust my mental capacity.

I hate making eye contact with other people but do not know how to stop because it is so engrained in my mind. I tell myself, "Don't look away. Act like you're listening. Pay attention. This will be over soon." Funny thing is, on occasion when I catch myself staring off in another direction I am actually listening to what the person is saying.

I love routines. They help me feel save and keep me from feeling overstimulated. I thrive in them.

I hate routines. Mostly it is the ones around personal hygiene because the idea of water on my skin, a toothbrush in my mouth, etc. is overstimulating. However, I know that I do better in life all around when I do these things. It takes me about 30 minutes most mornings to convince myself to get out of bed to do anything.

I love swimming. I also hate water droplets on my face. I either have to go fully underwater or doggy paddle. There is no in between on this one. I constantly wipe water off my face when I do water aerobics.

I love hiking. Unfortunately, much like the jewelry situation, there are too many steps involved in going on a hike and I currently do not have the bandwidth to make it happen. Also, my husband loves to go with me but he hikes military style. It is too overwhelming physically to keep up, and too overwhelming emotionally to fall behind. I hope I can figure out how to navigate it differently soon, as I know I feel better and can manage my sensory overload better when I go on hikes.

I love to paint and make things with clay but I hate when it gets on my skin. If I work with clay, I cannot wash my hands until I am done or I will not finish my project. I can wipe stuff off but cannot wash. I am not artistic but I have drawers full of art supplies for those rare moments when I decide I want to try to make something.

I love photography but have not taken my digital SLR out in several years. It is not because I have easy access on my phone, though that is part of it. I have not done it because I got a new camera and my husband keeps trying to say that we should "share" it by keeping track of different memory cards. Nope. This is too much for me. I do not want to share or keep track of more things in my life.

Turns out, maybe I know myself better than I admit. I guess what I meant is I do not know how to stop hiding my autistic self. I'm learning how to honor being alone, setting healthier boundaries and participating in activities when I have the bandwidth to do so, and embracing all of me without fear of societal judgement.

[tammyblackday]

Family.

The past few weeks have been a whirlwind of chaos, emotion, joy, and sadness.

Just before Thanksgiving, my dad's wife died. Her death was shocking and sad to say the least. I reached out to my ex-husband's family to get a message to my two children, who haven't had a relationship with me in years to let them know of her passing.

My middle son called me back. We talked for quite sometime and ended our conversation with an agreement to take baby-steps to building a relationship. Then, while my husband and I were on vacation with my sister and her husband in Hawaii, I received a phone call from my son asking if I'd come over that Monday to watch my grandson.

I've never met my grandson. I never even knew of his birth until months after he was born. It was devastating to learn through a mutual friend on social media about his existence. I've cried so many tears over this heartbreak, then suddenly, I'm being asked to watch him but can't because I'm in Hawaii. We talked for nearly an hour, and connected about many things. Still. I cried after we got off the phone. My heart aching to know my grandson and be part of their lives.

Then, just three days ago, I get a request from my son to take my grandson overnight. He's a little under a year and a half old, so I explained it might be best for their family to come visit before we did a solo trip. However, after a few conversations explaining their need to have 24 hours to get some things in order for the holidays, I agreed to take him.

It has been a surreal couple of days.

I drove 1 hr 15 min to pick him up. Stayed for an hour to "get to know" him. Then, loaded up my Jeep with all I would need for the next 24 hrs. I hadn't even touched him, yet I was driving away with him to our home another 1 hr 15 min back.

He's a sweet little boy. Smart. Fun. Adorable.

We took him and my other grandson and daughter to the Oregon Coast aquarium. Played, had dinner, watched cartoons, then attempted to settle in for bedtime. Unfortunately, we found out yesterday, the little guy was getting sick and we had a rough night. One that left me heartbroken and weeping at 3am trying to comfort him through crying out for his mom and dad.

Heartbreaking.

After a few hours of rest, we got up and had breakfast. I wrapped presents and packed up his things to make the journey to take him home. Dropping him off felt awkward and transactional despite the gratitude expressed for taking care of him. I explained how it seemed like I basically kidnapped a baby who didn't know me, took him to a strange place away from his mommy and daddy, and expected it to somehow turn out okay. I felt like I'd messed it all up and risked not seeing him again somehow. That feeling passed throughout the day and after more in depth conversations with my son.

Then, my dad called me last back from a missed call earlier in the day. He said he wanted to tell me something.

"I love you. Thank you for loving me and for all the times you kept trying to reach out even when I was pushing you away. I love you for it all."

Little-Big-Girl bawling as I heard these words. I felt all the pain and heartache I've experienced over the years from him melt away. Still. I wonder why I keep trying so hard. Why did I agree to take my grandson, when I'd never met him? Why do I put myself in challenging situations in an attempt to gain the love I so deeply desire from my family? Why do I keep letting them emotionally wound me? I told my son that I was a glutton for punishment.

Am I? Or, do I simply love my family so deeply that I would do anything for them?

It's the latter, I think.

[tammyblackday]

ADHD Meds

Today, I took my first pill; Methylphenidate 18mg. No more drinking alcohol, if I want my medication to work properly. It's supposed to help slow my brain function. It's supposed to help me control my urges to over-eat. It's supposed to make me "normal" so to speak. Right now, it's just making me feel a little woozy and tingly.

I have the official diagnosis. My doctor wrote me a note to have on file should I need it for work or school in requesting accommodations. Who knows if I'll ever ask for any. I'm hoping the diagnosis and medication will help me to focus better and accomplish my goals. Next, I'll be scheduled for an Autism assessment. I've taken all but one of the online assessments; all point to "yes, you're on the spectrum..." obviously.

Who would have thought at 52 years old I would receive diagnosis which would explain the unexplainable? I no longer try to explain myself to people, including my husband. Nope. Now, I simply say, "I don't know what to tell you. It's just who I am." It's helped my self esteem a bit, knowing that I'm not broken or dysfunctional. There's nothing "wrong" with me, just different than people who have typical functioning brains.

I kind of like that I'm different. I'm tired of suppressing my differences. I'd much rather embrace them. Lately, I've been struggling with minimizing my mental overload. I want fewer visual stimuli (less things on the walls and in the house), but each time I move to change something, I find and emotional attachment that I'm not yet willing to release. For example, I have many bulletin boards with photos and memories pinned to them. Instead, I would like to have a few photos with a few lovely things to look at. My walls represent the thoughts in my mind- they're scattered and beg for your attention.

Today, I took my first pill to manage my scattered thoughts. A new journey in my life. Let's see where it takes me.

[tammyblackday]

Goodbye Green Star Motivation!

It's been 12 years since I started Green Star Motivation. I've made less than a thousand dollars in all those years. Although it's a failed business, I wouldn't call it a failure for me. This idea was born from abuse and became a beautiful and safe place for me to heal myself, share my story, and help others do the same in their own lives. It's time to put it, my past, and my dysfunctional relationship with my mom to rest.

It wasn't an easy decision but it also came to me after my father rejected me in the most painful way, and showed me that even after 12 years of healing... some people didn't change, instead they hid.

Me included. I'm getting my official diagnosis of ADHD and Autism completed. The latter takes more time, as it requires a four-hour long psych evaluation and has a waiting list of 12+ mos. to have it done. However, my psychiatrist believes I'm definitely on the spectrum. We're going for diagnosis, so that I can have it on file with my work and school to help accommodate my needs better. I'm 52.

It almost seems unnecessary this late in my life and career; however, it's important to my future self to have this in place. I don't know why it is, but I feel strongly about it. That makes it important. I deleted my Green Star Motivation social media weeks ago.

Not one person said anything to me about it, so I know it was mostly just important to me. That made me feel a bit sad. I came home from work the next day and packed up all of my business cards and marketing materials into a box for the sole purpose of having a burn party later in life. I simply don't have the capacity to do it now.

I'm not going to stop blogging. I will, however, change the name of my blog and stop using the businesses' hashtags and logos. Green Star Motivation served a great purpose...

... it changed my life, one perception at a time! Shine on, Tammy

[tammyblackday]

Struggling.

Lately, it seems like each day of my life feels like I'm trudging through mud just to get to the end of it. When I first learned of my ADHD and possible Autism (AuDHD) diagnosis, I felt a sense of relief that my issues weren't PTSD related and that I'd done a fairly good job of managing the impact on my life. However, as time goes by, I've come to realize that I've spent my entire life "masking" and trying to "fit" in society, make friends, and create a sense of family, while simultaneously wanting to be "safe" at home and not be bothered by others.

I'm odd.

I don't allow myself to truly express the way in which would make me feel safe and authentic because I know these things are socially unacceptable and would create more isolation for me. I decorate with an eclectic style of things I've collected throughout my lifetime that each represent a frozen moment in time that brought me joy or a person whom I love. However, if this were MY house, I'd have one room where I wrote on the walls. Another that was plastered with overlapping photographs, like wall paper, of all my travels and joyous moments. I'd have a room of green. Another of all things soft. My spaces would be designed to meet my texture and sound needs.

The more I learn about AuDHD, the more so much of my life makes more sense. Things like why I didn't ever cry whenever I was told people died or my mom was hospitalized. Or why every time I smell beer I want to gag or throw up. Or why smooshy foods like mashed potatoes or soggy bread cause me to get upset. I recently watched a video about a person describing certain sounds that caused them to react negatively, throw a tantrum, or want to gag. I've been trying to explain this to my husband for years.

The issue is that none of it changes for me, even though I have the answers. The sound of the dinging when a seatbelt isn't put on in a car makes me want to scream. I can't stand certain music because it contains tones that cause me to get angry immediately. Certain smells create a gag reflex, and sometimes those smells are what others consider pleasant.

I'm sad. I'm grieving. I'm overwhelmed by life and work. I hate that I list out in my mind every step of a task as I complete it. "Open the cupboard, take out the glass, shut the cupboard, turn on the water, place the glass under the water for ten seconds, then move the glass, shut off the water, put the glass up to my lips to drink, swallow the water in gulps (counting each one), then put the glass in the dishwasher by opening the dishwasher, pulling out the drawer, put the glass down, close the drawer, shut the dishwasher."

That's just for a glass of water.

These narratives run through my mind throughout my entire day, while simultaneously thinking about my past, my now, my future, and all the things I need to do.

I'm exhausted. I'm struggling.

[tammyblackday]

My heart.

I'm not, nor have I ever claimed to be, a perfect human. I make all kinds of mistakes on a daily basis. I learn from most of my mistakes Sadly, the ones I've made with the family I raised and my family of origin keep me from living my fullest and best life. I'll do my best to explain, knowing that some of what I'm writing contradicts itself and/or my own beliefs.

I do believe that everyone has the right to choose who they want to have active in their lives. And, I also believe that ending a relationship with another person can be used as a control tactic and that the person on the receiving end is at the mercy of the other. Let me see if I can explain this better.

I didn't get a choice in my divorce. It was thrust upon me. I didn't get to choose for two of my children to go no-contact after a lifetime of working things through. I wasn't given a choice to never hear from my closest niece again. I have absolutely no idea why after twelve years of connection, healing, and relationship building, that my father would tell me to leave him alone forever. I had no say in my brother deciding that he no longer wants us to "meet in any way" again.

Did I play my part in these failed relationships? Of course I did. However, my ex and I were amicable and still had family time together for nearly two years after our divorce. Then, he suddenly decided he was done. I've a niece who ended a close relationship and used my words against me as justification for doing so. My kids and I spoke at least weekly, if not daily, for many years after they became adults. They became more distant from me after I met my now husband because of my inability to deal with changes in my life, but we'd kept trying until suddenly one tells me they had only met with me to end our relationship and the other just started to ignore me for years. I tried too hard and made too many mistakes, which drained them emotionally.

Over the past three years, I've learned through the internet about my daughter's college achievements and my son's born son that I've never met. My niece has two beautiful children. My dad expressing himself freely without judgement from me. Their lives seem to be better without me, but my life is certainly not better without them.

I may have played a part but I didn't get a say. None of these family members actually know me, or have taken time to ask me about who I have become or who I am. Instead, they've taken details from their own lives and sporadic interactions with too much passing time in between and created a version of me that they can reject. I'm easy to hate if you freeze-frame me on one of my worst days.

Imagine you know someone your whole life, but then decide to only focus on all the "bad" things or "negative" interactions you've experienced. It becomes easier to reject them. Plus, you're in control. You now get to determine aspects of that person's life without being accountable for the pain and suffering you've caused them.

This is where things become contradictory because what about the pain and suffering I've caused them? Yes, I have caused pain and not handled myself in the best manner possible.

No excuses.

And, I'm a communication person. I believe all relationships can be healed and managed with mutual respect and clear communication. However, both parties must be willing to get to know each other more than they think they do. They've no respect for me. I lost that over the years. Unfortunately, none of them can articulate to me how.

As for me, not only have I worked hard at therapy and trauma healing over the past three years, I've accomplished so much in my life. I've moved. I'm in the process of getting a diagnosis that helps provide a framework for my undesirable behaviors, such as emotional deregulation during stressful encounters and blurting out what is on my mind without considering the implications. I've also worked to become more aware of the importance of setting boundaries for myself and taking "time-outs" to think before I speak.

These are all great attributes that have improved many of my relationships. Unfortunately, I've no control over my family's willingness to consider reconciliation and forgiveness. I've the desire to heal but no power in the pain.

So, what do I do? I keep learning and growing. I keep trying to figure out how to express myself in healthy ways that help me to let go of the past and those who no longer desire to know me. I hope there comes a day in which we can navigate a new kind of relationship that's built on trust, understanding, compassion, and a willingness to assume best intentions. One of love.

[tammyblackday]

Contradictions.

re·​ject [ri-ˈjekt]: to refuse to accept, consider, submit to, take for some purpose, or use.

love [ləv]: strong affection for another arising out of kinship or personal ties.

I keep being told this by different people in my life, "I love you. I don't want you in my life anymore."

One doesn't seem like the other. It seems to me like rejection is almost the exact opposite of love. For if it isn't, then I do not want your kind of love. It hurts too much. It's cruel. It gives you permission to abuse and bully me, say you're sorry and love me, then push me away.

None of that seems like love, nor is it how I would treat those whom I love.

It's one thing to set a healthy boundary; which is done by stating what actions you will do if someone causes you harm. But, straight up rejection... I mean, I guess it's a boundary. I just don't necessarily think it's a healthy one because it jeopardizes that person's relationship with everyone else innocently connected to both parties.

It's happened too many times to count, and I'm tired of the pain.

"Fine.

You want out of my life?

Great!

Stay out.

I'm done being your emotional punching bag."

I wish it were as easy as that for me, but it's not.

My heart is broken. My soul is confused.

I question my very existence. And, all because you decided in this now moment that you lacked the emotional maturity to navigate a relationship with me? The irony is that you likely believe you're doing the mature thing by walking away, but it's simply not true.

Trust me. One day, you'll turn around and realize you've demanded others behave in a manner that's pleasing to you, instead of getting to know them. And, since you couldn't understand your part in any conflict, there's no one left to reject. The "middle" as you called it was not getting your way... the "middle" is acknowledging both (all) could be "right."

"Yes... and..."

We all have our own way of being in the world. I won't ever be who you want me to be, or behave the way in which you think I should behave, but maybe, just maybe, I wasn't supposed to be anyone but me. Maybe, you'd like who I am if you'd only taken the time to get to know me now.

[tammyblackday]

Lost.

I've recently taken assessments and have been diagnosed with hyper-verbal autism and adhd. Wow. It's a lot to process and somehow my whole concept of self is validated. I feel like my world is falling apart and simultaneously together. This explains all my social anxieties (sensory related) and awkward behaviors. It also explains why I follow sets of social rules imposed on me by people of "authority" (ones I see as knowing more or are more powerful) in my life. It explains my odd rituals and what my family called obsessive-compulsive behaviors, but that I called organization and efficiencies.

Still. I'm feeling lost. Like all I've ever done is exactly what other people told me to do... from parenting to school to career. I kept chasing after ways to be accepted and belong into a world that absolutely makes no sense to me. I feel like I was just given permission to be myself, yet when I relax into me it seems to upset everyone around me. Then, I become hyper-aware of how my behavior and/or existence is upsetting. Ugh.

I keep telling myself that it doesn't mean anything changed, only that I have words to say what I've known my whole life- I'm different. Somehow, though, it changed everything I've ever known to be true about myself, my childhood, my parents, and my life. I'm so lost.

[tammyblackday]

I love you.

"Now, god damnit, Tammy... I'm sick and tired of the drama and the sensationalism and shit... you're just using this for an excuse to make contact with me. No more!"

Whose parent speaks to them like this as an adult? Mine.

These are some of the last words my dad spoke to me on a voicemail. They now live rent-free in my mind repeatedly echoing throughout the middle of the night after I awake from yet another nightmare. I'm 52 years old and I still experience regular nightmares about my childhood despite thirty years of counseling and five years of intense trauma therapy these past five years. I still wake up crying, sometimes screaming. I've been told my whole life I'm being dramatic, when really I was being traumatized.

For weeks now, I keep telling myself it doesn't matter what my dad thinks of me. Let's be real, he's never really liked me. I allowed myself to believe that for the past twelve years he and I had built a new, healthier relationship. Heck, the last time I saw him we hugged and he had tears welling up in his eyes as if it would be the last time ever. Then, just a few weeks later, he's being nasty mean like he was when I was a child, saying cruel things, and telling all of his kids he hates them and to leave him and his wife alone. No contact, unless he initiates it... as if he has control over our behavior as adults. Yet, somehow he does.

In my previous passage, I mentioned that as a child, I would tell him over and over again, "I love you," only to be ignored or dismissed. I was in my forties the first time I recall my dad telling me that he loved me back. I swore we had healed our shattered relationship but here it is shattered again, only this time I care because it matters. My dad is aging and his health isn't great. It's quite possible that we said our final goodbyes. I'm angry.

I'm angry that he couldn't be healthy. I'm angry that he let me down. I'm angry that he continues to be verbally and emotionally abusive towards me. I'm angry that I believed for the past twelve years that he was proud of me and loved me. I'm angry that I was vulnerable. I'm angry that I let my guard down and he hurt me again. I'm angry that my willingness to forgive and grow seems like a wasted effort. I'm angry that his emotional maturity isn't higher. I'm angry that he has the audacity to believe he knows who I am simply because I refuse to keep quiet about my pain. I'm angry that people call me dramatic for simply communicating in effective and socially acceptable ways.

Most of all, I'm sad that it's possible I might never again hear my parent say, "I love you."

[tammyblackday]

It's personal.

One of my favorite books is The Four Agreements by Don Miguel Ruiz. If you haven't yet read it, I suggest you do. It's a quick read, but it takes time to process everything being said and a lifetime to practice the principles. One of those is, "Don't take anything personally," which is easier said than done because so often how others choose to treat us feels personal. And, sometimes, it is. Recently, I've had several people block me off their social media. It took me years of healing and learning how to better regulate my emotions to not take this type of rejection personally. Then, I found out that it was very personal. This is where I get intellectually and emotionally stumped and discombobulated (my favorite word btw).

I believe we each have a right to determine who is in our lives, including family. I also believe our family is essential in our lives, providing us opportunities to learn, grow, heal, and connect. Family helps us better understand ourselves and teaches us how to manage conflict and express joy and love.

Life can lose purpose and joy without family. We eventually learn that friends and acquaintances, regardless of the years between you, will often move on once you change, grow, heal, or move, but even if you go no-contact... your family is still your family. Frequently, they grieve a never-ending grief that goes away the instant contact is restored. The friends we keep for a lifetime often become "family" to us because the bond with family stands the test of time.

I get it. There are family members many of us would rather not be related to or know. For years, actually decades, I avoided my dad like the plague. I held him in contempt for a past that could not change. I listened to the stories others told me, and I believed them because those stories reinforced my disdain for him.

Then, after my mom died, I realized I'd been treating strangers on the street, drug-addicted and often criminally insane people, better than I was treating my own family. I held more compassion for their struggles and trials. I immediately felt ashamed of myself for never taking the time to sort out the "truth" of the past.

For the eight years following her death, I called my dad every Sunday. He didn't always answer, but I called nonetheless. I did this until a few years ago after he'd met his now-wife. I adore her. I stopped calling so frequently because my life was in turmoil, and each time I called, he spent most of the call talking to her and ignoring me. I often felt I had walked into a conversation I wasn't supposed to hear.

However, over the past twelve years, I learned so much about who my dad had become and started caring less about who he was. He and I spent much time talking, healing, growing, and forgiving. We became family again. Anytime others wanted to speak ill of him, I either defended him by saying, "That's not the relationship I have with him," or I would tell them I didn't want to hear anything negative about my dad.

I love my dad. I love our relationship, even though sometimes he behaves in those "old ways." According to The Four Agreements, how he treats me is not personal, good or bad. Still, sometimes, it's personal. Either way, he's my family. I'm so grateful.

SOURCE: https://www.reddit.com/r/QuotesPorn/comments/7g2dj2/sometimes_you_will_never_know_the_value_of_a/#lightbox