Posted by: Judy | October 8, 2014

New Perspective…

Tackling the food thing, tomorrow. This question needs to be answered first: Why do I stay?

Found this on Pinterest, yesterday:

http://www.healthyplace.com/blogs/traumaptsdblog/2014/09/25/how-to-heal-ptsd-during-ongoing-trauma/

I’ve often lamented my inability to be smart enough to make a healthier choice and escape the insanity of this house, long ago. I’ve beaten myself up about being too stupid, too damaged, too unhealthy.

Walking in the morning, this week, and reciting what I could remember of The Anima Series’ message to women, something occurred to me:

Over and over again, I have chosen what I believed to be the truth over what I knew would be easy.

I didn’t choose what was easy; I chose what I believed was the truth, what I believed was right.

All this time, I’ve beaten myself up over choices that have caused devastation and anguish and tried my faith. I didn’t recognize or acknowledge that I made the decision to work toward a happier future, again and again.

I chose to fight for my health and the future.

The conflict lay in refusing to believe that those I was endeavoring to build the future with didn’t embrace the same goals I did. I didn’t understand my “teammates” were choosing lies over the truth. I couldn’t believe they wanted to remain unhealthy rather than do the hard work of change. They wanted the path of least resistance, provided it bore the appearance of working to change, rather than actually being willing to “get wet and sandy.”

Our goals are at cross purposes.

They want an easy button and are determined to find it. I know there isn’t one and am willing to do the work, one painful step at a time.

I’m not rejecting them as teammates as they believe. We’re going in different directions, and I’ve learned and accepted enough truth to know their way isn’t where I want to go.

I didn’t miss a cue somewhere a long the way. Again and again, I was given a way out, if I had wanted the quick fix. Yes, I know I’ve stated that I’ve repeatedly attempted to leave and failed. I was proposed to more than once and chose healthy over escape. None of the men were suitable for me. In truth, they were variations on NM. I turned down the opportunity to continue working in the national parks and then again to stay in England because I wanted to do what I believed was right.

When I’d reach the end of my rope and I’d plan an escape, my plan was always foiled. God gave me what I needed and even what I wanted in my moments of clarity. I wanted, more than anything, to not end up like NM, to be healthy, to be my best self. The times my vision grew cloudy, God stood in the way of the easy escape I wanted.

Knowing this does not make my living at home easier. It makes it understandable.

What did I learn by staying in this insanity?

I learned to face the truth.

The insanity was easy to deny when I wasn’t living here. I accepted full responsibility for everything wrong with my relationships with everyone. Living here, I could continue to believe the lie and did until I was in my 40s. I was 43 when I chose the truth. In the terms of “The Matrix,” I chose the red pill. The truth. And the movie actually was right about that: Once you choose the red pill, you can’t go back.

Unfortunately, as I’ve faced the truth, my health has deteriorated. I also lost my main client, depleting my income severely. I’m slowly rebuilding, again.

What else did I gain by remaining in the insanity?

I was here to protect nieces and nephews, over the years. I’ve been able to maintain a friendly relationship with EF. My siblings generally must interact with both, as NM ensures they are a pack deal. NM isolates EF. His decision to allow it.

What would I do if a pile of money was dropped in my lap?

I’ve always believed I’d be out of here like a shot. Now, God and I would have a very long talk about what needs to be done next.

ntexas99 made a valid observation: I’ve been spiraling down into the rabbit hole. Writing the last book was extremely difficult. It’s the end of the series based loosely on my own life. It’s been painful and liberating. I’ve given my heroines the HEA (Happily Ever After) I don’t have and have accepted won’t be mine. I also gave them something more, things I’ve shared here, like believing I belong to God. I had to give my heroine, Samantha, the gift of trust in God. I’m still working on it. Though I’ve ostensibly been working on the book for four months, it was mostly written in the final two days. I wasn’t happy with the ending. I’m grateful for editing.

ntexas99 also gave me a challenge: Have fun. This shouldn’t be so hard!

God and I talk every day. I remind myself He could rescue me. He hasn’t. What is it He wants me to learn.

By the way, returning to more regular sleeping and eating habits helps tremendously.

God Wink: The Anima Series posted this yesterday on FB:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nGuO6hzI8Ok&list=TLsKqh94QkCjk2awV48D2VO01x26T_gJll

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Responses

  1. Hmm. While I agree you shouldn’t do something like marry someone to get out of your situation (I did that subconsciously at age 21 and I was divorced at 22), I don’t think you are being fair to yourself to call it an easy escape to leave. I call it self-preservation. And it certainly wasn’t easy to be out on my own and break the ingrained pattern I’d been in with my parents. Breaking away from them was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I too thought I could protect my siblings and nieces if I stuck around. But martyr ing myself was no answer either. I couldn’t help anyone when I was devastating myself.

    I don’t deny that you’ve learned some hard lessons staying where you are, but I have difficulty believing that it would be God’s plan for you to suffer endlessly there. You deserve better and I can’t help but wonder if you are somewhat more “comfortable” staying in a place that the evil is a known quantity. I hope I don’t sound terribly rude. I just worry about you and wonder if fear isn’t what keeps you in the toxic place. Partly because I’ve been there myself. Hugs.

    • Not rude. Honest. And correct. I sometimes feel like the dog chained to the stove. The chain was removed, but the dog still cowered by the stove. On good days, I know I’d be fine. On bad days, not so much. The finances are still the main consideration. My counselor worked to ensure I was no longer emotionally dependent on my parents, but the finances are a different story. I’ve run into more roadblocks than I imagined possible, and I wonder how much of it is self-sabotage. I don’t know. Thanks ((Judith))

      • The dog analogy is a good one. I definitely felt like one of those puppies who would get kicked only to go back to the master and lick her hand, hoping for a better outcome. {{{{{Judy}}}}}

  2. You brought up a lot of interesting points, and I don’t want to go down one path, only to forget another. First, I think the whole Anima Series is something that is bringing you strength right now, and this week’s message in particular (about hopelessness, and remembering not to confuse a period with what could be God’s comma, instead ) is one that is very appropriate for where you are today. When we see nothing but hopelessness and bondage and no escape, we are often one breath away from an entirely different existence; one we can’t even imagine.

    I want to share a story, and will try to keep it very brief. There was a time in my life when I had been married for 18 years to a good man, but despite all the work I had invested in becoming whole, I was still very broken (from my abusive childhood, and from decisions I had made in my adult life). We were at a critical point in raising our youngest son – we were on the verge of losing him forever (to drugs, violence, gangs, suicide). As parents, we had worked as a team towards raising our sons, but suddenly, we were on opposite sides of the river, with a huge and wide expanse of disagreement flowing between us. I had been participating in therapy for several years myself, and now we were in therapy together as a family. Through therapy, it became clear to me that the best chance at saving my son would very likely require that I sacrifice my marriage in the process. My husband wanted free of the struggle and was willing to release our son to the state, basically giving over the problem to someone else. I wanted to do whatever it would take to save our son, and was unwilling to turn him over to the state. We were moving in two different directions. My husband wanted escape, and I wanted to do the work, no matter what the price.

    To this day, people still tell me I made the wrong choice. I desperately pleaded with my husband to keep fighting for our son, but he was done. He had taken all that he could take (and it had been very costly for us both). Instead of staying the fight, he made the choice to walk away. Which left me, an emotionally crippled person who was working at becoming whole, who made a salary that was roughly one-sixth of what my husband earned, to now become a single parent to an emotionally disturbed and chronically suicidal son who was addicted to drugs and had become violent. I was terrified. But I was more terrified of losing him.

    You already know how it turned out. We managed to scrape by financially. God put me in a job that provided for us in the monetary sense, although, truthfully, it was working for someone who was completely toxic. I endured eight years of working for a sociopath, who regularly screamed and ranted and threatened people with loaded weapons, but during those eight years, my son eventually found the help he needed, became drug-free, and got his life back on track. In other words, I stepped out of one fire (my broken marriage), into another (a toxic working environment), but in doing so, I finally accomplished my goal of saving my son (actually, he saved himself, but that’s another story), and in the process, I also eventually found my own freedom, both financially, and emotionally.

    The moral of the story? I was in a hopeless situation. My husband was ready to turn his back on my son, and on our marriage. The decision was placed in MY hands, whether to stay with my husband and abandon my son, or to leave my husband, and try to save my son. Either decision was the wrong one, and both decisions were impossible. Hopeless. But now, some fifteen years later, I can see that it was never hopeless. It was a comma, and not a period. I couldn’t have imagined that I would find a job that was basically the equivalent of two people’s salary, nor could I imagine that my son would do all the heavy lifting in turning his life around. Or that I would take on even more responsibility (caring for my dying mother), and that it would all work out okay. I made it through it all, even when it appeared hopeless. I was terrified, and almost frozen in fear. But it turned out okay.

    Sorry for muddying up your comments with such a long story, but I had hoped to use it as an illustration of how even the most hopeless situation is sometimes nothing more than a set of circumstances that are providing the basis for a new solution – one we can’t even imagine.

    You believe that in giving your heroine the HEA ending, that you have maybe provided a cathartic experience for yourself, since you will never have such a thing in your own life. Don’t forget the truth behind a comma being confused with a period. We never know what’s around the next corner. It could be an entirely different version of something we can’t even begin to imagine. Hold tight to the truth. We just never know.

    • (((ntexas99))) Thank you so much for taking the time to share your response. It means more than I can say. I confess I use hopelessness as a shield. Strange, but a part of me fears hope. I kept hoping I’d find a way to be free of my NM, and here I am… In a way, I am free or I’m at least working in the right direction now. I also have a terrible habit of putting in periods where there’s a comma. Thanks for the reminder. 🙂

  3. (((Judy)))


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