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So once I realized my mental health issues weren’t just “getting better,” I decided to start working with a counselor. I had started with a counselor while my partner was in his/her recovery but hadn’t connected with that person. In my profession, I tell clients regularly it takes time to find the right fit with a mental health counselor. But accepting this is so much more difficult when it’s you. I had brushed off the need and was sure it would be tough to find a new counselor. I was wrong; I clicked instantly with the counselor I met. She called me out on things and made me think deeply about things from my childhood. She made me see some of my internally rationalizations as they were (self-abusive).

I still recall the first situation we discussed- my lost pregnancy at 5-6 months gestation. I was sharing about how I had worked through the grief and my thought process, which included stating the universe had other plans and it wasn’t meant to be. That I lost my child so others I knew could have theirs (including someone I knew with difficulties getting pregnant). My counselor stated “would you tell a friend these things if you were comforting them?” I looked at her shocked and said of course not, it would be insensitive. She then stated, “so why is it ok to say to yourself?” I realized it wasn’t. This made me think further about past situations where I’d used similar thought processes. Many of them included “at least” or other types of silver lining thinking to get past the feelings.

This was belittling my own feelings. I was treating myself as someone undeserving of the feelings. If my external self was a friend to my inner self/thoughts/feelings, I would have been a shitty friend. I wasn’t showing myself empathy or compassion.

Needless to say this realization took many more months and ongoing therapy, self help readings, etc to process & begin to act upon. it also involved changing therapists (as my counselor left the practice). More on that next time.

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It's my 1 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳

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It’s been 5+ months since I last posted. I justified its due to a busy schedule and life getting in the way. When I really sat and thought about it, it was due to the deeper and more personal next part of the story. You see it’s much easier to talk through the external events. The faults of the other and how it impacted me. It’s much more difficult to reflect inwardly and talk about my own faults/struggles.

This post will not be as lengthy as the others. Not yet. I needed to start somewhere, with a small post. To break out of the avoidance of talking about my feelings. My internal journey.

To start, my partner made positive changes. He/she worked through recovery day by day and started to get to the root of his/her demons. I started to realize his/her patience and emotional regulation skills were surpassing mine. I was in a dark hole, avoiding feelings, constantly on edge. I felt little joy in the day to day activities. Picture an empty shell, smiling or engaging but with no connected feelings. I had nothing to blame the despair and irritability on anymore. I kept waiting for it to “just get better” with time.

Spoiler alert- mental health doesn’t work that way. I had to acknowledge there were demons of my own I had to address and talk about. It took over 3 months before I said it aloud (that was months to a year after I realize something wasn’t right internally). This is where I’ll pick up next time.

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Last we left off in the story, I shared about my experiences with my partner’s addiction, domestic violence, and my realizations of the need to set boundaries. That first DV incident occurred 6 months before the next one. In the interim, my partner worked through intensive outpatient therapy and counseling to target his/her addiction and how it was connected to his/her underlying mental health issues. He/she started a new job and the stressors piled up. Again, hindsight is 20/20; knowing what I know now about addiction and relapse, I would have seen the signs (I hope). I would have realized he/she couldn’t work through those issues yet. There was insufficient time in his/her recovery.

To save time, it was a very similar incident to the first: spiraling emotions, me trying to manage the situation and keep my emotions regulated, my partner showing all the signs of drunkenness, the phone call to the police, etc. My partner was taken to jail for a few hours this time. I called on someone else to pick him up. One part being I had two kids to care for as well as my responsibilities at work and the other part being, I couldn’t handle facing him/her so soon after the relapse.

If it hadn’t become clear, I had become a pro at “trudging on.” I focused on the rational actions and roles I had to play: professional at work, confident to other staff, problem-solver, mother, house lady, chef, etc. There was not time for feelings. Any feelings coming through were anger at my spouse for putting all this responsibility on my shoulders. For being weak and letting the addiction take over. For lying and hiding the relapse from me. I reminded myself constantly I did not have it so bad; there were others far worse off than I. Stupid self-deprecating thoughts. The only other feelings I experienced were shame and guilt. For continuing to put myself in the role of the domestic violence victim. The “ifs” and “should’ves” were constant- if only I was strong enough to leave, if only I could gather the strength to uproot our family, I should have watched him more closely… I worked in a field with direct knowledge on mental health; I should know better. I made lists and plans for what separation would look like. Where our pets would go, how to manage bills, steps to sell the house, etc. But I simply kept focusing on the daily actions and responsibilities. The change was too scary.

When my spouse returned, we spent a day talking through how to get him back on a path to recovery. How to deal with the fallout and consequences. My partner ended up taking a leave of absence from his/her job. I thank the universe often he/she did as it gave him/her time to focus solely on recovery and addressing his/her mental health needs. However, there was a part of me that was angry and resentful. Why did he/she get to “tap out” of the responsibilities and have a breakdown?? I could never take advantage of an option like this; how would all the task get done?, who would pick up the slack?, how would bills get paid?, who would keep the kids safe/cared for?? Again, I pushed the feelings down and put the walls up to keep boundaries between my spouse and I. It was all on my shoulders to keep our life spinning. There was no one else who could. This created an extreme amount of pressure and stress on my shoulders.

To this day, I am still working on the blocked emotions I had to push down to make it through the next few months into the next year. I’d be lying if I said I don’t still get triggered by tiny details (a passing smell, a look from my partner, the slow slur or cadence of his/her voice, a glazed look in the eyes). I still question things my spouse says and simple things like him/her walking to the garage unexpectedly or using money to buy something. I’ve learned I had been conditioned to doubt my self and my intuition when my partner was in the throes of his/her addiction. Now I second guess myself often across multiple aspects in my life. I continue to work through these consequences of my experiences. More on that in future posts.

What I leave you with today is this point: recovery from addiction issues is a process. It will not just happen. It will take time (years not just days or weeks or months). And it has lasting impacts on not just the addict but those closest to the addict. If you are in the “victim” role as I was, don’t invalidate your feelings. Take the steps needed to keep your mental health safe. Work through the consequences and trauma. Learn and grow from it. Don’t hide from the feelings even though they are intense and scary. And above all rely on your support systems. No one can (should) do this type of work alone.

With loving kindness.

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Today, I want to go deeper into the whole recovery process and how difficult addiction can truly be. Like I shared last time, my spouse struggled with alcoholism. This began at a very young age with the roots being established by a culture that glorifies drinking. Drinking is how we socialize, have fun, escape from the stress of the world. It’s almost a rite of passage as you move into adulthood. I can see the triggers and antecedents now that set the stage for his/her substance abuse. It didn’t make it feel better at the time, or even now as I look back. But it helped me understand at least.

So the alcohol use started with drinks at social gatherings, to celebrate important events, or to wind down from a stressful day. Gradually it became more and more acceptable to have drinks daily. As my partner’s tolerance increased, this evolved into buying bottles of vodka or brandy. It’s more potent so it creates a calmer effect more quickly. Of course at the time, I was unaware he/she was escaping into these bottles. I saw the irrationally and anger and coped with it by encouraging him/her to sleep it off. Eventually I began finding the remnants, the bottles hidden in cupboards or bags, random glasses with leftover vodka. The smell of hard liquor became a trigger, something I could recognize instantly in my partner. Imagine the smell of it oozing out of the pores/sweat glands.

I can’t recall the specifics that lead up to the first police call for DV (domestic violence) but the moment itself is burned into my brain. Each feeling of terror, of being put into the animalistic thought process of how to protect myself and my first child. Trying to quickly solve the problem of calming an irrational person while keeping my feelings at bay. And when I couldn’t and lashed out with my anger, trying to rein in the situation. To this day, I can still be triggered to those feelings by the mere scent of liquor. I remember my warnings to call 911, repeated because I knew it would make the situation real and tear off the facade of our “perfect” household; and I was so afraid of that. One aggressive act too many (both from my partner and myself) prompted me to dial. I then hid in my child’s room until the police came. Thankfully my partner backed down once the call was made. My memory is blurry, bogged down by the trauma response, but I think my partner was directed to go elsewhere (a friend or family member’s house) until he/she could sober up.

If that night wasn’t hard enough, the next morning was it’s own kind of hell. I pleaded my partner to seek help. I laid out the events of the night prior, which he/she didn’t recall. I threatened, bargained, cried, etc. Promises were made but not to get into mental health supports or seriously invest in AA. I blindly believed he/she would follow through. That I had made him/her see the error of their ways. How naive I was.

Like I said, this was a multiple years process. I hadn’t yet learned how to support an addict. How to give up control and emotionally detach to protect myself. For those of you that have gone through this, and I’m sure there are more than the world knows/is aware of, addiction is irrational. You cannot reason with someone in the grips of addictive thoughts. Those thought patterns are so intense and enticing. They come on unconsciously and keep prodding until the addict caves. In the beginning, the person isn’t even aware of these thoughts. The hardest part for me was accepting that the only way my partner would change, is if he/she wanted to change. Nothing I said or did mattered until the above happened. Again as someone, who relies on being perfect, fixing every problem I was faced with, and knowing all the right answers, this fact was impossible to accept. The very thought of waiting and having faith left me debilitated and questioning. It rocked my emotional core and made me feel worthless. My thoughts screamed: “if you can’t fix this and make him/her better, you are a failure.” Now add on the emotional abuse that comes from a partner struggling with substance abuse, and it was a recipe for emotional turmoil.

As I shared in my first post, I hope this reaches you if you are struggling, emotionally to accept your own self-worth or in a situation with mental health issues like I’ve described. You are not alone. These issues can strike no matter who you are, or how many privileges were handed to you (or not). It has nothing to do with karma or punishment from the universe because of something you did or didn’t do. I’ve learned these challenges are thrown your way to push you to become the best, highest version of yourself. {NOT that it makes it easier to accept or helps you feel better in those moments}.

Until next time, be kind and find some peace in knowing you are not alone.

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The Catalyst

Let's fast forward a few years or so. I graduated from college and went right into the next level of education for my degree in school psychology. By 2013, I had graduated, married my high school sweetheart, and started my first job as a school psychologist. Next came buying a house and having a baby...all the things any person aspires to have, right? I was using all the skills I had acquired to push through stress and focus on pleasing the world around me. It didn't matter if I didn't have time to do the things I loved or to keep a relationship with my partner a priority. I was accomplishing my goals: Working Mom & Wife, House keeper, Accountant, Cook, etc. No time left for me, of course. Filling others' cups and making them happy was how I got my validation, remember.

It was in those first few initial years where I can look back and see the start of the stressors, the red flags for my partner's addiction, and my lack of acknowledgement or awareness of problems internally. We had the "perfect" life, how could there be problems?? Move forward a few more years, child number two was in the picture. Two kids under age 3. I could handle it and work and have "all the things." I'd always handled every hardship or difficulty in the past with grace and perfect outward demeanor. The state in our house was anything but. I was stressed to the max all the time with no outlet and no slowing down. I nagged/yelled at my partner and he/she in turn, sought ways to escape the stress. My partner also came with her/his own baggage in the relationship (this is something our society is not upfront about, of course; the totally natural/human condition to come into our adult life with baggage, internal issues, & personal growth that needs to be done).

All in all, it was a recipe for something has gotta give. Neither my partner nor I were able to acknowledge our own weaknesses. Fingers of blame at the other were the daily practice. My partner's addiction came to a tipping point multiple times...I threatened to leave, to divorce, etc., if there wasn't a change. Silly me, thinking I had any control or could change another person. I thought, if I just threatened enough or tightened the reins or tried to micromanage everything or pointed out the impacts on our kids, then it would work. I didn't understand at that time the most obvious fact: an addict cannot be reasoned with as they exist in distorted thoughts and rationales. That is what makes it an addiction, a mental health disorder. The illogical seems logical to them or their brain makes it so in order to avoid the much scarier truths.

Sadly, this whole process took 2-3 years. Plus a late-term miscarriage of our third child with no rhyme or scientific explanation as to why (even after months of genetic testing). Plus job loss and police involvement. I can't tell you exactly the turning point for my spouse....as there were multiple situations of relapse after her/his first decision to start on the path of sobriety. Mine started when I set boundaries and accepted the only things I had control over: myself and what I was willing to accept as the partner of a recovering addict. I told my spouse I would support him/her on the journey to sobriety. I set boundaries for our relationship. I identified the things I was comfortable talking about and worked to get couples counseling established. But it wasn't for another 2ish years until I would say I truly started on my own personal, spiritual journey. Where I was ready to accept my short-comings and look at what I needed to do to grow as a person. It wasn't until I was ready to stop trying to fix everyone else's problems and to acknowledge my own internal demons, some of which existed long before the events I just outlined.

That's a story for another time. For now, know you are not alone. Each person hides his/her struggles in different ways. But we all have battles we face, and honestly those who appear toughest, able to 'truck on through,' are probably those most at risk for emotional breakdowns. Please be kind to those around you as you can never truly gauge the vastness of the wounds from the picture created on the outside.

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The Beginning

In thinking of where to start in my story, multiple intros came to mind. Should I start with the catalyst, the events that led me to question everything I had previously known and thought? Or should I start with the true beginning, my background and who I thought I was? Ultimately, I decided it was necessary to share a little about my background and previously known self before I dive into how It all had to change.

I grew up in rural, small family. Nothing that would be perceived as atypical by the casual observer. Two parents, one the primary caretaker and the other the bread winner. Two younger siblings, close enough in age that I had playmates to develop skills for turn taking, sharing, using my words, etc. I loved music and singing and would belt out favorite songs with no fear throughout the house. My parents loved to tell stories of my singing and how nothing stopped me from doing it. As the oldest child, I was fiery and motivated to succeed. Stubborn in my ideas of the world and what I wanted to be. Learning/academics came easy for me. I constantly fought to be the best at the things I did and to seek approval from my parents. I learned if I could be perfect, I might be able to get validation from those around me.

Fast forward to my teenage years, preteen specifically. An unfortunate incident of infidelity caused my parents to separate. As a child in thinking still, I didn’t recognize it as something that would likely be final and life changing. I saw my parents as experiencing conflict, arguing intensely when they were together. Nothing that doesn’t happen between parents: they fight, they work it out, they go back to being together. I didn’t realize divorce was even a possibility. I didn’t understand watching the conflict was not healthy for my psyche/brain. So when people asked how I felt about it all, I responded with “I’m fine.”

You see by this time, I had learned some very unhealthy coping strategies. Some were modeled, while some resulted from my family experiences and having to share attention between siblings or responsibilities of my parents that took priority. Some were even due to societal norms for emotions and gender expectations (as a female, others’ needs were more important). I struggled to connect with my own feelings. Instead I would brush past them or push them down and focus on the task ahead. The actions I needed to do. I had learned to minimize what I was feeling and my needs. So my response was “it’s ok”. “I can handle it.” “There are other people in the world with bigger problems or greater suffering. My problem is nothing compared to that.”

Now in honest, I was fortunate. The divorce wasn’t too messy. My parents figured out how to split things cordially and create two separate homes for me and my siblings. They shared placement 50/50. They were respectful with each other when they interacted at transport times or when they attended our school events. We even had joint birthday parties. My parents were able to be friends somehow, which I’m eternally grateful for. I learned to live with the new normal. However, it only added to my minimizing attitude: I was so lucky my parents coparented in a respectful way. Their divorce really didn’t impact me and my future.

I went on to graduate high school and attend college. I selected a school with high ratings for music teachers and started my first semester with music theory & other classes. It was hard!! Never in my previous schooling had I struggled so much. I feared not getting As and being perfect at something. I began questioning if this was the right path for me. How could I do something if I was not perfect at it? What would others think of me if I was earning Bs/Cs? How could I get validation for being subpar at something? The internal anxieties of not being good enough ultimately resulted in me changing majors after the first semester. I wasn’t even able to give it a full effort for the whole year, so great was my fear to fail. To disappoint those around me. I rationalized away it just wasn’t meant to be, it wasn’t the right fit, it wasn’t bringing me joy, i didn’t like the courses…you name it. I couldn’t face those anxieties for what they actually represented. I had not developed the skills to put my own emotions as a priority.

So I switched to psychology. I was drawn to the content. It fascinated me and I was good at it. To be honest, it was a good change in some senses as it brought me to a field that allowed me to use other skills. To be a helper to others. To make the needs, emotions, internal issues of children the forefront. And to ultimately try to help them work through their struggles. I continued through my schooling on the projected path to be a school psychologist. Again, a career I love. A career I needed to be in to start my inward journey. But let me be clear, it started as a career to appease and seek validation from others. It wasn’t the true dream of a young child that had been so in love and passionate about music. That dream went by the wayside because I wasn’t able to work through my internal emotions, to put my needs above those around me, to be able to do something I loved without the guarantee of external validation.

That’s enough background for this post. I hope it gave some insight into who I was/the internal foundation that was created prior to the events that I will speak to next time. Until then, good thoughts and energy to you all. ❤️

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Starting this process

If you are reading this, you stumbled across my blog based on others talking about or by happenstance. Either way, I hope it brings you something.

I started this blog as a way to share my journey. Both for myself and to help others in this world, who may be feeling stuck, alone, confused, unsure, etc [feel free to fill in the correct feeling]. My hope is it brings others comfort and hope knowing that we all have an inner turmoil/battle. Knowing that each person has his/her own demons that must be faced. Even those who look composed and like they have it all figured out. I like think each of us feels a little unsure of who we are and questions the lessons we have been given and why we were put here.

But I digress...

Like I said, this all started from a thought. A tiny spark of energy I felt needed to be put into the universe. Even now as I type, my thoughts spill out of my head, needing to be heard. A friend told me each thought is a type of energy. Put into words, and it creates more energy. Now sharing it with others, I can only imagine the power/energy that is created.

The thought was simple: my spiritual awakening has been a hot mess; surely others have gone through this and struggled too?? Why don’t I know of their journey?? Why aren’t there endless opportunities to talk with people I’m close to about what it feels like?? Isn’t this the basis of the human condition: to find others like us, to make connection, to feel heard/seen, to have support? 

Yet, why in a world so full of hurt/pain/confusion, do we not share our stories more??? Why do we attack or judge those experiencing feelings and being willing to share?

So this was how it started. Knowing I wanted others to not feel alone. Knowing I wanted to build a community where stories can be shared without judgement. Because my story doesn’t seem like much on the surface. It wasn’t until I started my awakening that I realized the depths and ongoing struggles I was faced with. It wasn’t until my eyes were opened to the fact that my life wasn’t “perfect” and wishing wouldn’t just make it so. And it wasn’t until I hit the dark, scary, pits of despair that I realized pushing up my sleeves and trudging through would not fix the problem or make it go away. The only way to do that was to analyze and feel the feelings and be willing to share, vulnerably, with others.

Next time, I start by sharing my story. Every messy detail. Until then, may each of you take a moment to think about the energy you want to put into the world. And let it be that which pushes us to be better.