Releasing the past in order to find myself

Tuesday, July 10, 2012


I've been feeling so overwhelmed lately.  As liberating as this all is, as freeing as it is to think I'm changing, moving past it, finally healing, it is also overwhelming to deal with the grief, the sadness, the realization that we really are alone.  Things will not get better.  DH and I are not ever going to have that family support we so desperately hoped for.  It is overwhelming to think of all the work ahead.  To realize how many of our friendships took advantage of our preconditioned natures.

DH and I have come so far.  We have grown closer in the past few months than we ever have.  He is willing and eager to listen and hear me.  While he may not always agree, he considers and validates me.  But it is such a long road I see stretched out.  Such a long road of recovery, redefining life, setting out on our own.

And in the midst of all this, life goes on.  Laundry piles up as I write posts.  My kids entertain themselves more than I'd like them to as I try to sort through this all.  The house is a wreck.  I am trying to let go of my perfectionism, but some days, I want to drag everything out on the lawn, burn it all, pack up me and my family and start over.  Live more simply.  We finally have the "home" I've longed for and worked for and needed, but sometimes the weight of it is too much.  DH hates his job and I know he shoulders more than his share of the burdens of that, protecting me from the stress he is feeling.  Knowing that, at the moment, I just can't carry anymore.  But I hurt for him, and feel for him, and worry for him.

I walked through Target today, tears playing in my eyes.  Stupid tears as I looked at clothes and diapers and just felt so adrift.  Felt so lonely.  Wished so desperately that we had ANY family that could surround us without expecting something in return, or using our rough patch to make themselves feel better, or gossip about us behind our back.  That we could trust and lean on someone.  To know that the friends I see dropping by the wayside, who would never even think about asking how WE are doing, aren't all we had hoped they would be.  Trying to be strong, carry my kids, find the way to soldier on, heal on the run, as I grieve, and feel loss, and feel lonely, and feel tired.


  1. [[Jessie]]

    I'm searching for the words to comfort you, but I'm not sure I'll find them. I think what you are describing is the beginning of the process - this is why so many people turn back and give up. It's not easy. Nearly all of it hurts. But, if you can just stick with it, if you can keep going when all you want to do is sit down and stop, in the end it's worth it. It really is. Asking questions, feeling the pain, learning how to handle it so that it doesn't take you over, it's all part of the path that leads you AWAY from the narcissism, and into the light.

    And I'll walk with you. I know there are others here who'll do the same. We're all here for each other, as much as we can be over the internet.
    I wish I could be your friend, your cousin, your sister - someone who sees the light and could be by your side (physically). I can't, and that makes me sad, but I still want you to know that I think about you, and I hope with all of my heart that you use that wonderful inner strength to get through this. I'm sending love and hugs and happy thoughts in your direction, to take with you, always, as you find your way.



    1. Dear Jonsi, Thanks so much for your support. It has meant more to me than you know. That somewhere, out there, is a kindred (understanding) spirit has meant a lot to me. I too wish that there was a way to be there for each other more in person.

      This has all been such a roller coaster, some days much better (and worse) than others. And it can be so lonely, not having a support system on either side. Thinking about all the things we have lost. All the things our kids will never have. Thinking of all the polite smiles and nods I give to people when they tell me "how lucky" we are to have a "close" family, cousins my kids's ages, and grandparents to "help". None of that applies, but I've found explaining it is futile. And when times are a little more rocky, and you could use another shoulder to cry on, you look around to find yourself alone. All those people who've drawn off of you, taken your hospitality, enjoyed your home, your food, your love, and none of them are there.
      But you are right, it is the beginning of the second half of my journey. I've spent the past ten years coming to grips with the reality of this. I had finally reached a threshold, thought I saw some relief, just to realize there is a whole other mountain to climb. But I can't go back. I can't ever "unknow" what I know.
      Thanks again for your love and support; right back at ya. And glad to hear from you again. I have missed your thoughts, posts, and comments these past few days. I had been thinking about you and had been hoping all was well.

  2. I know this feeling. Being without a loving, supportive family is deeply destabilizing, no matter how competent you are in your daily life. And it's that much harder when your friends can't be counted on. I don't really have a solution, I just press on with whatever I'm doing and eventually the feeling passes. I try to remember that anything (good) could happen in the future. It may not always be this way.

    Hang in there.


  3. I am not sure if you are no contact.
    You don't have to be no contact to understand that it is foolish to count on your friends and parents the way others count on theirs.
    Coming to this conclusion is a muted reality. Like waking up after a snow fall.
    It can be heard and felt while still wrapped in blankets and lovers.
    It is beautiful, but you must dig out and shovel walks and scrape wind shields.
    It's an authentic life.

    1. Thanks Q, that was a beautiful way to put it. We are still in contact. That might make it worse, not because I really fear them anymore, but just that they are like holograms of what I thought them to be. Just images with no substance. Sometimes, just gets lonely, having no family on either side to count on. Thanks for your support.

  4. (((Jessie))) It's very hard. I struggle with this too. It is so hard to "have a family" but at the same time to feel like an orphan. Like you're not allowed to be sad because you do have a family. But like you said images with no substance. We will feel better, it just takes time. It's ok to feel sad, it helps us to grieve and if we grieve we will heal. I'm here for you.

  5. Jessie, this post really touched my heart, I know how you feel. The social isolation during a rough patch makes things much harder. Oddly, I too have walked through Target crying upon occasion. Maybe it's Target..... :-)
    It takes a long time for the immediacy of mourning the living to start to numb. I've been doing it serially (kept giving her encores, but each time my feeling for was less and less) for nearly twenty years now. Amortizing my grief, is how I think of it. Uh oh, I feel another post coming on...

  6. I'm just now reading this and I could not have expressed it better. I still feel like this at times even though it's 2.5 years since I discovered what my reality of life was and is now. From reading your previous posts, it's amazing how the brain needs to heal from pain, suffering, abuse etc....stuff we have shoved way down because we were taught or "groomed" that our feelings don't matter. I think what is really hard is trusting that we can find better friends and better people in our life. Thank you again for you blog. It just make me or "all" feel validated even if it comes at such a pricey reality of our past.