Coming Up for Air

I mentioned in my last blog post that I don't really have any close friends.  That has been true for quite some time.  Since writing that post, I have been doing a lot of self-reflection to figure out why this is so, and more importantly, how to fix it.  There are several reasons to explain how I've gotten to this point in my life.  It's partly because of my feelings of inadequacy- I've always felt like an outsider, and that I never really fit in anywhere.  And part of it has to do with my need to connect with people whom I can try to fix (in an effort to avoid my own issues, I'm sure.)  But more recently (if 9 1/2 years can be considered recent) it has to do with family tragedies leading to depression, anxiety, and a little bit of PTSD.  Oh, and let's also throw-in trying to figure out how to connect to the mother and siblings I hadn't seen since 1980.

This isn't going to be a "boo-hoo, woe is me" type of post, though.  It could easily be that, but really, what's the point?  I experienced things that were soul crushing.  I lost the people that I thought were friends, and I have been drowning in sadness for years.  I've struggled to get my head back above water for quite some time now, with very little success.  That's not the point of this post though.  The purpose of this is to be hopeful and positive.

I feel like I have been slowly suffocating for almost 10 years.  I'm ready to breathe again.  It's exhausting to always be alone in a crowd, wishing that someone would try to reach out to me, and at the same time, praying like hell that I'm blending into the background enough, so that no one notices me.  I'm ready to open my heart, and tear down the walls that I've built around myself.  I'm tired of being lonely.

But how do I begin?  Making real, true friends isn't as easy as it was when I was 5, and I could walk up to another kid and say, "Hi, wanna play?"  I know I just have to take things one day at a time, and relearn how to be comfortable around people.  I also know that I can't force a relationship.  If someone is meant to be a part of my life, they will be.  I worry though, that most people can't handle the type of friend that I am.  I am honest and loyal, and I love with every fiber of my being.  I am not the friend that vanishes when things get tough.  I am both the rock, and the candle in the darkness.  Being those things fulfills my lifelong need to matter to someone... to feel important.  My biggest fear is that I will come on too strong, and seem too needy.  Or that I will just continue to keep the world at arm's length, because then I don't have to worry about people not liking me.

For today, in this moment, I have broken through the surface of the water.  I am filling my lungs with the fresh air, and fighting to stay afloat.

You Can Have My Chocolate Pudding

I always seem to attract them- people that need fixing.  Maybe it's because I'm kind of broken too, so we're drawn to each other. Maybe it's because I keep my crazy (mostly) hidden away, so I seem like a safe harbor.  Maybe I purposely seek out people I can try to fix, to take my focus away from my own issues.  I don't know what it is exactly.  What I do know is that it can be a lonely existence.  These broken souls that I collect are so wrapped up in themselves, that none of them bother to really get to know me.  And when I am no longer of any use to them, they tend to drop me like a diseased hooker.

I don't actually have any close friends.  I'm not even really very close to anyone in my family (with the exception of my hubby and kids.)  I seem to have a hard time staying connected to people in general.  I'm sure it stems from my abandonment issues as a child.  I wish I wasn't this way.  I truly wish I could make friends as easily as everyone else seems to.  I see others with their circle of friends, getting together, having fun, and it makes me sad that I don't have that.  I've tried in the past- I really have. But as soon as I start to get to know someone, I pull away. I refuse to let them through the brick wall I've built around myself.  Or, better yet, I find out that the person is highly toxic, and slightly insane.  And once they know I've found out their truth, they turn on me and try to bring me down too. 

The worst part of it is that I know I am a fiercely loyal friend.  I am there for whomever needs me.  But I never feel that in return from anyone.  Instead, I feel like a hanger-on... an annoying third wheel... the younger sister that your mom forces you to take to the mall with you.  I somehow have become that kid from school that was really nice to everyone, but seemed like they were trying too hard to be friends with you.  The one that would give you her chocolate pudding, even though you didn't ask for it.

The Anonymous People

Last night I watched The Anonymous People.  If you don't know about it, it's a documentary (available for streaming on Netflix) about people in long term recovery from addiction.  If you love someone who struggles with addiction, I highly recommend that you watch this film.  It is about the need for an open, honest dialogue about addiction and recovery, and how the attitudes toward addiction and recovery need to change.

Addiction to drugs and alcohol is an illness.  Some would like to discount it, and say that it's a choice- people choose to become addicts.  They can stop if they really want to.  I've never known anyone who chose to become an addict.  I've known people who screwed up and made bad choices, but they never set out with the desire to destroy their lives.  I've known people that struggled with sobriety for years because they weren't ready to get help.  Or they got help, and then repeatedly fell back into the abyss that enveloped and smothered them.  Addiction is an illness, plain and simple.  Even after treatment, an addict has to work on their sobriety every day.  There is no cure.  Some are able to overcome it, and sadly some are not.

One of the recovering addicts in this film was the actress, Kristen Johnston (3rd Rock from the Sun and The Exes.)  She has become a very vocal champion for change by refusing to be silent about her own recovery.  She will not hide the fact that she almost died because of her drug and alcohol abuse (read her book, Guts if you haven't already.)  She is mostly known for being smart, outspoken, a bit of an over-actor, and incredibly funny  (and let's not forget her proper use of foul language!)  Even her book will make you laugh out loud in the midst of her horrifying life and death ordeal.  That being said, there was a moment in The Anonymous People that took my breath away.  There is a brief moment where all of that brashness and humor drops away, and we catch a glimpse of raw vulnerability from her.  I have always enjoyed Kristen's work for her ability to make me laugh, but seeing this small glimpse of a different side of her made me love her even more.

The main point of the documentary is that attitudes toward addiction and recovery need to change.  No longer should those in recovery hide themselves away, or be shamed into silence.  They need to speak out and be counted.  Addiction is a crisis in this country, and only when attitudes change will real progress be made in the treatment of this disease that destroys so many lives.

A Story of Faith (working title)

It was a day just like any other that summer.  It was July, and the hot Arizona sun baked everything it touched.  Susie woke early that morning, so she could get to the park and save a spot in the shade of one of the large Sumacs.  She was meeting her friends, as she did most days of the week, and it would be the best place to keep cool.  She slid into the skintight bell bottoms that she loved.  They were faded, and the denim was worn just right.  She put on her pale yellow eyelet halter top, and the brown suede vest with all the fringe that she bought at the thrift store.  She couldn’t believe someone would give away such an amazing vest, but their loss was her gain.  She brushed her long, dark brown hair.  In her opinion, her hair was her best feature- it was very straight, and very shiny.  And it reached down to her waist.  People often said she reminded them of Cher.  Susie liked that.  It made her feel special when anyone pointed out her resemblance to the star she loved.  And why shouldn’t she feel special?

Being compared to someone as breathtakingly beautiful as Cher was the only time Susie felt like she mattered.  Her home was not a happy one.  Her parents had divorced years before.  She still remembered their fights.  She remembers hiding under her bed with her three younger sisters, while their parents screamed obscenities at each other in their drunken rages.  She remembers the sound of glass splintering into thousands of tiny shards, as she consoled the scared little girls under her bed.  Of course, she was a little girl herself, but there was no one to console her, so she pretended that the fighting didn’t bother her.  Susie was glad when her parents finally split up, but she was constantly shuttled back and forth between Arizona and California, and she was sick of it all.  She was sick of her mom’s inability to be the warm, loving mother that Susie yearned to have.  Susie was sure her mother hated her.  Their interactions were always tense, and nothing Susie did was ever good enough.  She wanted nothing to do with her stepfather.  He seemed like an okay guy, but he wasn’t her father.  Nobody would ever take her father’s place, and in Susie’s opinion, to accept her stepfather was to betray her father.
   
Susie managed to get out of the house that morning before anyone noticed, which was good, since she had swiped her mom’s last $3.00.  It was early, and the day was already hot.  The thermometer would easily reach into the hundreds by noon.  But Susie looked cute, and she had a little bit of cash in her pocket now! 
   
She arrived at the park, found the best spot to see people coming and going, and waited.  After awhile her friends arrived, and they talked and laughed.  Jim, the somewhat ugly guy who always hit on Susie, had his guitar with him, and he was softly strumming California Dreamin’.  Susie didn’t like Jim at all, even though he made it clear how much he liked her.  He was a local boy who wasn’t going anywhere, except to work at his dad’s furniture store.  Susie yearned for adventure.  She knew there was more out there besides the Arizona desert.  Even where her dad lived, in the California central valley, lacked the excitement Susie wanted. 
   
As the day wore on, more people got to the park, and brought their instruments with them.  Susie’s friends were musical, but she wasn’t.  Instead, she would dance and sway to the music.  She used her long hair as an extension of her body.  She always felt very sensual, and assumed others thought the same of her. 
   
On this particular day, she caught the attention of someone new, and he took her breath away the moment he said, “Bonjour...”

Support in an Unlikely Place

I've mentioned that I rejoined Twitter and have been playing around over there a little bit.  Last week, as I sat on the couch, staring at the treadmill a few feet from me, I randomly tweeted that I needed someone to motivate me to get on the treadmill.  A little whe later, someone tweeted me back suggesting that we motivate each other.  Being relatively new to Twitter (this time around,) I have only interacted with this person once or twice.  I was really quite surprised that she suggested helping each other, but I'm thrilled nonetheless!

The next day, I got my derrière on the treadmill and walked two miles!!  I ended up not walking again until today (three days later) but I got back on, with the support of this random person on the internet. 

I have quite a bit of weight to lose- about 50lbs.  I've been struggling with depression and self loathing for quite a long time, but I'm taking the first steps (for the umpteenth time) to reclaim my body.  I've had body image issues since I was about 12 years old. I've struggled with eating disorders from one end of the spectrum to the other.  For the first time ever, I can honestly say I don't feel healthy right now, and it scares me. I don't want to die and leave my children motherless. 

I'm terrified of slipping back into old habits though.  So I'm taking this one day at a time- even moment by moment if I need to.  I will conquer this weight problem. I am determined, but I know I may fall from time to time, and I have to be okay with that!

And the Wall Came Tumbling Down

Yesterday was the six year anniversary of my Dad's death.  I try really hard not to think about him, because it hurts so much.  When I do, the tears start flowing instantly.  For the past six years, I have walled off the part of my heart where my Dad resides, but the last couple of days I have been failing miserably at keeping that wall intact.  I can't stop crying.  As I type this post, I am crying.  

I miss my Dad more than words can say.  I hate that only two of my children are old enough to remember their grandfather.  I hate that he was taken from us so young- we had celebrated his 59th birthday just a month earlier.   Well, we recognized his birthday. There really was no celebrating, because we knew he was slipping away.  He was barely aware of us at that point.  I don't think he even recognized me anymore, and that was more painful than his passing.  

I need to figure out how to get the wall firmly rebuilt. I feel myself slipping into a place I don't want to be.  I know I should probably allow myself to feel whatever I need to right now, but I'm too afraid I won't recover from the pain.  So I'll just block it out instead. 

Everything Happens for a Reason

You know those little sayings that people have?  The ones they say to try to make you feel better about a situation...

"Everything happens for a reason"

"It's all part of God's plan" 

I hate those sayings.  They are really unhelpful when somebody is experiencing a trauma in their life, and sometimes they are downright painful to hear.  I know what you're thinking.   People who use those phrases mean well.  People really do believe these words, and they bring comfort to many.  But riddle me this: do they really believe there is someone up in the heavens, saying "Let's see, I think I'll give Alan lung cancer."  Or "Lynn needs to learn a lesson, so I'll make her give birth to her twins 3 1/2 months early.  Oh, and then after they have fought tooth and nail to survive, I'll take one of her twins away a year later."  Sorry, but I don't buy it.  I can speak from experience that when my own child was born almost 4 months prematurely, I wanted to throat punch people who told me that it happened for a reason.  Things like this don't happen for a pre-meditated reason.  There is no great plan.  Crappy things just happen sometimes. 

I talk with moms on a daily basis who are in the throes of fear and panic, watching their premature babies fight for every breath.  Preemie moms typically deal with an inordinate amount of guilt over their baby's early birth.  They constantly ask themselves if they could have done something different.  They feel that their own bodies failed their children.  They often ask what they did to deserve the punishment of watching their child fight for life.  They really don't need guilt being piled on by well meaning friends and family.  Unfortunately, that's exactly what happens very often.

Like I said, I understand that people are trying to be helpful, but it's up to the person in the trenches, the one going through the trauma, to decide if there is a reason for what they are experiencing.  As humans, we want to make sense of things.  Most of us find ways of learning from our experiences, even the bad ones.  But that doesn't usually happen until after the fact.  I think that when people say "everything happens for a reason" what they really mean is, "Sometime later, after you have gone through this, you will find a way to make this experience mean something."

Here's a perfect example.  I grew up with an absentee birth mother.  Long before my first birthday, I was living with my grandparents, and then by two years old my Dad and stepmother took custody of me.  I can count on one hand the number of times I saw or talked to my birth mother until I was 38 years old.  I grew up with serious abandonment issues.  I still have trust issues.  I still deal daily with self-esteem issues, and feelings of not being enough.  But, I have turned this experience into something that matters.  I chose to become an adoptive parent.  If I had not experienced all of the heart break I did as a child, I'm not sure I would have been moved to adopt.  I wouldn't have two of my amazing four boys.  So, in that sense, yes being abandoned happened for a reason.  But it's only in hindsight that I can see that.  When I was a teenager, going through the worst of it all, it would have fallen on deaf ears to have been told that it was going to be okay because it was all part of a bigger plan... that God was doing this to me on purpose. 

I guess the point of this is to caution you about these phrases that are both true and false at the same time.  Choose carefully when you say them to somebody.  From experience, I can tell you that in the middle of heartbreak and trauma is usually not the time.