Thursday, November 26, 2009
Thanksgiving Blessings
Today, let's take a moment to reflect and give thanks for the many blessings in our lives. For some, the holidays can be a lonely, painful time of year. Hidden blessings exist even in those times. This is especially true in my life. I don't have a loving family or partner, but I do have what many others don't have right now - stable employment and the safety and comfort of a home. I also have a wonderful son, good friends, my health, and a bright future ahead of me. These are the things I choose to focus on and give thanks for on this day. The rest I release to the care of my Maker and the angels that lovingly watch over me. I trust that I am provided everything that I need. Many blessings to all.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Lessons from the married years...
The person I was when I married is no longer recognizable because of the abundance of lessons learned from my marriage and subsequent relationships. I was introduced to the man I would marry through a mutual friend and it was a fairy tale romance for a while. In reality, the illusions of romance were in my head and I chose not to see all of the warning signs that were right in front of me. This man swept me off my feet and I felt so loved and wanted while he courted me. The truth of the matter was that I felt sorry for his situation, loved being needed, and thought my love would save him. Lesson 1 - A woman's love can not save or change a man. I chose to marry an abusive man with drinking and mental health problems. Looking back, I can admit that I was insecure and attracted familiarity as a way to become aware of my own issues.
Things changed pretty quickly after the wedding and we entered into marriage counseling two months later. My blinders had been removed. We were able to work through some of those early bumps, but all the while I didn't feel that I could ever do enough to make him happy. Instead of cherishing and appreciating my efforts, he was very critical and demanded even more. I should have stood up for myself, but was afraid of being rejected and continued to comply. As a result, I allowed my self esteem to erode further. Lesson 2 - A woman deserves to be treated with respect. It is her place to command that respect.
Five years later, my biological clock started ticking. I wanted to have a baby and hoped that having a family would strengthen our relationship. Never ever will I regret the birth of my son, but let me be very clear - children put stress on a relationship. A strong relationship can handle those stresses. Ours could not and it was the beginning of the end. I had already given so much of myself to my husband and the increased demands on my time and energy led to resentment on his part. He became angry, began drinking more, and was abusive when I couldn't live up to his expectations. We separated for the first time when my son was two years old and reconciled within months. He had made life even more difficult while we were apart. Besides, I had promised myself that I would never get divorced. I did not want my son to be the product of a broken home like I had been. Our reconciliation was short lived. My husband's moods became increasingly volatile, he drank even more, worked sporadically, and couldn't sustain his promises to treat me better for more than a few weeks. We separated and reconciled yet again and even tried a fresh start in a new house.
After our first separation, more counseling revealed that my husband was depressed and that medication would help. It didn't. Eventually, he was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and his psychiatrist suggested additional counseling to help us deal with the associated difficulties. By this point I was emotionally drained and my spirit nearly broken, but I was committed to our marriage. We agreed that he would pick the counselor. Actually, the counselor he selected was a blessing who helped me to gain the courage to leave. After months without improvement in our relationship, I decided that I had given all I could and couldn't do the work needed to save our marriage on my own. I had to accept that he did not want to change and resented that I was changing and growing. In addition, our home environment had become so emotionally toxic that it was no longer a healthy place to raise our five year old son. Over the next few months I worked with the counselor on my own to rebuild my self esteem and prepare myself for what was to come. I knew that life was going to be miserable for a while and was also concerned about of how far he might go to make me pay for leaving. As a precaution, I revealed my decision in the safety of the therapist's office. I was so proud of the strength I had developed yet fearful of the divorce nightmare that was about to begin.
Things changed pretty quickly after the wedding and we entered into marriage counseling two months later. My blinders had been removed. We were able to work through some of those early bumps, but all the while I didn't feel that I could ever do enough to make him happy. Instead of cherishing and appreciating my efforts, he was very critical and demanded even more. I should have stood up for myself, but was afraid of being rejected and continued to comply. As a result, I allowed my self esteem to erode further. Lesson 2 - A woman deserves to be treated with respect. It is her place to command that respect.
Five years later, my biological clock started ticking. I wanted to have a baby and hoped that having a family would strengthen our relationship. Never ever will I regret the birth of my son, but let me be very clear - children put stress on a relationship. A strong relationship can handle those stresses. Ours could not and it was the beginning of the end. I had already given so much of myself to my husband and the increased demands on my time and energy led to resentment on his part. He became angry, began drinking more, and was abusive when I couldn't live up to his expectations. We separated for the first time when my son was two years old and reconciled within months. He had made life even more difficult while we were apart. Besides, I had promised myself that I would never get divorced. I did not want my son to be the product of a broken home like I had been. Our reconciliation was short lived. My husband's moods became increasingly volatile, he drank even more, worked sporadically, and couldn't sustain his promises to treat me better for more than a few weeks. We separated and reconciled yet again and even tried a fresh start in a new house.
After our first separation, more counseling revealed that my husband was depressed and that medication would help. It didn't. Eventually, he was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and his psychiatrist suggested additional counseling to help us deal with the associated difficulties. By this point I was emotionally drained and my spirit nearly broken, but I was committed to our marriage. We agreed that he would pick the counselor. Actually, the counselor he selected was a blessing who helped me to gain the courage to leave. After months without improvement in our relationship, I decided that I had given all I could and couldn't do the work needed to save our marriage on my own. I had to accept that he did not want to change and resented that I was changing and growing. In addition, our home environment had become so emotionally toxic that it was no longer a healthy place to raise our five year old son. Over the next few months I worked with the counselor on my own to rebuild my self esteem and prepare myself for what was to come. I knew that life was going to be miserable for a while and was also concerned about of how far he might go to make me pay for leaving. As a precaution, I revealed my decision in the safety of the therapist's office. I was so proud of the strength I had developed yet fearful of the divorce nightmare that was about to begin.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Reflections on my college years...
It was my freshman year in college and, suddenly, I was completely on my own. Fortunately, I had a job as a waitress that paid pretty well in tips and a car. A place to live was an urgent need, so a friend where I worked offered me a room in her house to rent. Over the next few years I moved several times until I found a little apartment that was just perfect for me and my budget. As I didn't make enough in tips to fully support myself, my dad took over full responsibility for my tuition and my maternal grandparents provided furniture and other things that I needed to ensure that I stayed in school. That and they couldn't understood what my mother had done.
I was always close to my mother's parents. In many ways, my grandmother loved and took interest in me more than my own mother had. I was so fortunate to have her in my life until I was nearly thirty. To this day I still miss her unconditional love and acceptance. My grandparents were the only source of unconditional love I've known through most of my life.
The relationship I had with my dad was more of a struggle. My situation gave him the opportunity to make up for years lost, but I was no longer the little girl that he remembered. I was a young woman and that was hard for him to accept. He also struggled with the ability to provide emotional support, which as a young woman finding her way in the world, I so needed at times. My dad believed that being a good father meant providing financially. That was the way he was able to show his love. I truly appreciated that he was there for me in this way and I didn't take advantage. I was too proud and independent. The problem was that it came with conditions. When you give from the heart there are no conditions. Looking back, I know my dad didn't know any better and did the best he could. Unfortunately, I didn't receive emotional nurturing from either of my parents. They didn't have it to give. Over time I've had to learn to give it to my self.
More than seven years later I graduated from college. It took longer than I had planned, but I reaped the rewards of perseverance. Not finishing college was not an option. I had something to prove. By the end of my sophomore year, working full time at night, going to school full time during the day, and maintaining a place of my own had taken a toll. I was sick constantly and my grades were sub par. With my dad's consent, I made the decision to transfer to evening school, find a full time day job, and continue waiting on tables on weekends. Blessings followed. My new employer provided tuition reimbursement. I gained valuable experience in my field on the job. Most importantly, my grades improved substantially. Life was good again.
During this time I also found love with someone who would become my husband and teach me many more life lessons.
I was always close to my mother's parents. In many ways, my grandmother loved and took interest in me more than my own mother had. I was so fortunate to have her in my life until I was nearly thirty. To this day I still miss her unconditional love and acceptance. My grandparents were the only source of unconditional love I've known through most of my life.
The relationship I had with my dad was more of a struggle. My situation gave him the opportunity to make up for years lost, but I was no longer the little girl that he remembered. I was a young woman and that was hard for him to accept. He also struggled with the ability to provide emotional support, which as a young woman finding her way in the world, I so needed at times. My dad believed that being a good father meant providing financially. That was the way he was able to show his love. I truly appreciated that he was there for me in this way and I didn't take advantage. I was too proud and independent. The problem was that it came with conditions. When you give from the heart there are no conditions. Looking back, I know my dad didn't know any better and did the best he could. Unfortunately, I didn't receive emotional nurturing from either of my parents. They didn't have it to give. Over time I've had to learn to give it to my self.
More than seven years later I graduated from college. It took longer than I had planned, but I reaped the rewards of perseverance. Not finishing college was not an option. I had something to prove. By the end of my sophomore year, working full time at night, going to school full time during the day, and maintaining a place of my own had taken a toll. I was sick constantly and my grades were sub par. With my dad's consent, I made the decision to transfer to evening school, find a full time day job, and continue waiting on tables on weekends. Blessings followed. My new employer provided tuition reimbursement. I gained valuable experience in my field on the job. Most importantly, my grades improved substantially. Life was good again.
During this time I also found love with someone who would become my husband and teach me many more life lessons.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Thoughts on my childhood...
Honestly, I got the short end of the stick in my childhood. I know that every family has it's problems and dysfunction, but mine could definitely be the poster child!!! I was angry about it for a long time. As I've gotten older and have grown spiritually, I've taken a different perspective. I wouldn't be who I am today without my painful past and have chosen to forgive.
I was the first born of a narcissistic mother and a father who struggled with depression and drank to deal with his own emotional pain. My only sister was born a year later. Early memories of my father were of a man who took providing for his family very seriously. I remember that he could be silly at times and enjoyed getting involved in the projects that my sister and I had to do for school. Despite his own issues, I know I was loved and that he did the best he could to be a good father. Unfortunately, I didn't have my dad, and he didn't get to be my dad, for a good bit of my childhood. My parents separated for the first time when I was in third grade and ultimately divorced as I finished junior high school.
Being a mother myself, I've never understood my mother. It's not possible for me to have a relationship with her even today, but I have forgiven her. Her actions must be what allows her to survive her own pain. As far back as I can remember, I felt rejected and not good enough for my mother. She told me many times, in her own way, that I didn't meet her needs. Apparently, my sister did. Even though my sister got the favor and attention of my mother, she was impacted as well, just differently. When my parents divorced, my mother saw to it that she turned us against our father and did not allow us to see him. My dad fought for us for a while, but eventually gave up. He didn't want to drag us through the court system anymore and my mother was a force just too great for him to bear.
Growing up with my mother's controlling ways and unattainable expectations led to the first major parting between us in my freshman year in college. I was your typical teenager. I had a little bit of a mouth and was a tad rebellious at times, but I focused on trying to be perfect and ended up being an honor student through junior and senior high school. I never got into trouble. My sister, on the other hand, got into plenty and developed anorexia and bulimia. Needless to say, there was a lot of drama in our house. Understandably, my sister's troubles consumed my mother, but I was the one who caught all of the backlash. My sister eventually ran off and got married at 18. That left me at home and I think my mother had had enough of parenting. I had had enough of how she was treating me and told her so. Instead of trying to patch things up between us, she invalidated my feelings and told me to get out.
This was the start of a journey on my own and my dad's mission to try to make up for year's lost.
I was the first born of a narcissistic mother and a father who struggled with depression and drank to deal with his own emotional pain. My only sister was born a year later. Early memories of my father were of a man who took providing for his family very seriously. I remember that he could be silly at times and enjoyed getting involved in the projects that my sister and I had to do for school. Despite his own issues, I know I was loved and that he did the best he could to be a good father. Unfortunately, I didn't have my dad, and he didn't get to be my dad, for a good bit of my childhood. My parents separated for the first time when I was in third grade and ultimately divorced as I finished junior high school.
Being a mother myself, I've never understood my mother. It's not possible for me to have a relationship with her even today, but I have forgiven her. Her actions must be what allows her to survive her own pain. As far back as I can remember, I felt rejected and not good enough for my mother. She told me many times, in her own way, that I didn't meet her needs. Apparently, my sister did. Even though my sister got the favor and attention of my mother, she was impacted as well, just differently. When my parents divorced, my mother saw to it that she turned us against our father and did not allow us to see him. My dad fought for us for a while, but eventually gave up. He didn't want to drag us through the court system anymore and my mother was a force just too great for him to bear.
Growing up with my mother's controlling ways and unattainable expectations led to the first major parting between us in my freshman year in college. I was your typical teenager. I had a little bit of a mouth and was a tad rebellious at times, but I focused on trying to be perfect and ended up being an honor student through junior and senior high school. I never got into trouble. My sister, on the other hand, got into plenty and developed anorexia and bulimia. Needless to say, there was a lot of drama in our house. Understandably, my sister's troubles consumed my mother, but I was the one who caught all of the backlash. My sister eventually ran off and got married at 18. That left me at home and I think my mother had had enough of parenting. I had had enough of how she was treating me and told her so. Instead of trying to patch things up between us, she invalidated my feelings and told me to get out.
This was the start of a journey on my own and my dad's mission to try to make up for year's lost.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
On feeling different...
From the time I was a little girl I remember feeling different and apart from my family. I look just like my mother and inherited many of my father's characteristics, so I know that I wasn't adopted. I read somewhere that we choose our parents long before we were born. Our parents provide our first glimpse into the lessons that we are meant to learn in this lifetime. In hindsight I've embraced that concept, but little did I know then that those lessons would be painful and plentiful. Throughout the years I've asked my Creator many times "Why me?". We're never given more than we can handle, right? Well, He must have great confidence in me because my plate has been consistently full. Yet it's been through those painful lessons that I've discovered who I really am and my life's purpose. After many years of searching, I found the answer. I'm an Earth Angel who's been called to serve others and share the message of love and light through my ongoing journey.
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