It’s Just Another Day

Really it’s not but I try to ignore the 13th of March as if it doesn’t exist. I don’t want it to exist. I’m not sure if I’ve blogged about this before…I haven’t checked the archives. To recap, my birthday is a trauma anniversary and if I celebrate too early, something bad happens. If I don’t control how the anniversary of my birth is acknowledged, something bad happens. Odds never seem to be in my favor so I’d rather not observe my birthday.

When I was seven we celebrated my birthday early because we were going to my grandfather’s retirement party. Our car was vandalized at the party and it would be the last time we saw my grandfather alive. He died of cancer about a month later.

I won’t go into other birthdays that left a sour taste in my mouth. Were they all bad? No. I mean who doesn’t want to turn 13 on Friday the 13th? And last year in Goa, India, on a trip with the Chief?! Wow!

This year I turned 50. I’ve accepted that 2/3rd of my life is over and I’m really not sure I’ll see 75. I’ve raised my girls; both will be productive adults; one is married. I guess I hope I live long enough to see grandchildren but I wonder if that’s not too much to ask for.

I was on spring break but the Chief is at sea so he can be home for T2’s college graduation. I wanted to do something, anything not to be stuck at home, stuck in my thoughts. T1 and hubby were agreeable to a visit. I was going to fly but I offered to bring a sewing desk I wasn’t using out to them. I told them they didn’t have to entertain me–I could sightsee on my own or spend a lazy day with the grandpuppy and grandkitty. No fuss needed to be made. Plans were set a few weeks before and I was confident I could avoid any unnecessary celebrating.

But a letter or card arrived one day. The handwriting is distinctive. No return address. Why after 15 and half months does my birth mother attempt to contact me? Why would you pick a trauma anniversary? It’s been three weeks. I haven’t opened it. I did tell the Chief about it because I’m supposed to be sharing these kinds of things with him per my therapist. But I also told him I wasn’t going to discuss it. I wasn’t going to be forced to read it.

I told my sister-in-law about it. One day I may give it to her to read and objectively let me know if I should read it myself and choose a response. She let T1 & T2 know about it… perhaps that’s why they, along with my mother-in-law sent gifts to T1’s house for me to open on my actual birthday. The Chief put money in T1’s account and had her get me flowers and a cake.

But when I was doing touristy things, fulfilling a childhood dream (or as close to it as possible), my birth mother tried calling. Not only did she call my cellphone, she called my house phone too. I have not listened to either message she left.

The stress and anxiety of traveling alone, being in pain for lumbar scoliosis (another post some time in the near future), anxiety from the cPTSD…all traveled with me. They didn’t go away just because I left the state. And I honestly couldn’t just hide in the guest room and do nothing all week–I could have stayed home for that! And she had to try and contact me on my birthday?

I have since found out another piece of the puzzle… My birth father is going to be having back surgery in a few short days. My sister felt the need to tell me. “I know how angry I was when no one told me he had been in the hospital for a week when he wasn’t speaking to me for three months.” It’s laughable really. I don’t think she was intentionally being their Flying Monkey and genuinely thought to spare me any shock. But that she acknowledged the nasty abusive behavior in the same sentence and accepted it is just further proof she will never stand up to them. I just shook my head and said, “Oh, I trust you’ll tell me when the end has come.”

What I didn’t voice was ‘Just know that I won’t be there for him if she goes first, and I won’t be there for her if he goes first. I will be there for you and only you because of the burden you shouldn’t have to carry (but you can’t see that).’ And ‘How do you worry about/mourn for someone who considers you dead to them?’ Or conversely, ‘How does a dead person mourn?’

Either way, this explains the letter and the phone calls and my birthday was just a convenient ploy to contact me. It oozes narcissism. It smacks of previous interactions. It was never about my birthday. At least this is my assumption and I could be totally wrong.

I am left with other thoughts. Forgiveness vs. Toxic Christianity. I touched on it in my post about Intentional orphaning. Why do we assume forgiveness should always mean reconciliation? Why do we say things like “But they’re your parents” or “Family is everything” or “Forgive and let it go”? Why is the offended expected to keep the lines of communication open, to attempt reconciliation? How backwards is that?!

Matthew 18:22 is Jesus’ answer to the question of how many times should a person forgive/be forgiven. 7×70 or 70×70 depending on the translation. The implication is that there is no limit, do it until you lose count. I have forgiven. I can say “Peace be with you. Go with God,” and walk away. When the anger burns in me I have to forgive all over again, it’s a daily struggle sometimes. But I do it. And I do it even though my birth family has never apologized.

Matthew 5:38-40 talks about turning the other cheek. I have lost count of the number of times I’ve turned the cheek and begged for reconciliation as if I was the one in the wrong. There is a reason we only have two cheeks to slap. I don’t believe God wants us to return to abuse. Second chances, maybe third… But over and over? I know God forgave the Israelites over and over (and over again)…but it was also after repentance and returning to Him. So wouldn’t it stand to reason that the offendER has to make the attempt at reconciliation? If I ever thought it was genuine and true change would occur, yes, I would reconcile. It would never be the same, but I would have a relationship of some form with them.

I doubt my own thoughts about this. Am I twisting scriptures to soothe my guilt? I sought advice from a Biblically sound and impartial person. Matt. 3:8 says repentance will produce fruit. Change would be evident. He gave me 1 Tim. 6:3-8 to demonstrate that there are things (and people) we are to turn away from if it is not righteous and wholesome. 2 Tim. 3:2-5 was also given to me as a way of saying some people just wear the appearance of piety…and we should not be reconciled with those people. I suspect my friend knows a bit more about my situation than we have ever discussed.

It’s just so hard when I feel there are so few who could ever understand my choices. Christ died on the cross to bring about lasting reconciliation that no mere human and no amount of sacrificing could bring about. But it isn’t automatic. The offender still has to repentant, still has to produce fruit of the change, be obedient, and want true reconciliation.

Well, this is about a month’s worth of posting… I hope you have stuck with me. I hope it’s not too preachy. I hope this resonates and yet if you truly understand, I am sorry for what has shaped you.

Happy Easter.

What an Odd Day…

I’m going to blog here to see if I can put a finger on what thoughts are running around my head and why. It may or may not help.

January came and went. Christmas Eve was relaxed, getting ready for another Christmas day with new traditions now that I don’t see my family of origin. My in-laws usually have a lazy morning, exchanging personal gifts not exchanged the night before. Lunch at a Chinese restaurant followed by a movie. We got the call early Christmas morning that my FIL was having chest pains. He’s fine but he got to stay in the hospital for a few days. The Chief was happy to help out, letting his brother spend time with his wife and her parents. But it began an almost weekly trip to the ER for COVID (their first time getting it), side-effects of his Parkinson’s meds, and at least two falls. My SIL has initiated home care–day time twice a week and one overnight a week. Our MIL is resisting it but our FIL told her “It’s a gift, take it.” The Chief feels my SIL is being a little heavy handed and could be gentler but I rebutted that “they had two years to prep for this and his doctors feel he should have been in memory care last year.” I get that the Chief is protecting his mom and he struggles with letting go of control too. I’ve asked my SIL to help the girls stand their ground with him when it comes time to accepting help and home care, either for me or him. The Chief knows it’s the right thing, especially after on the day he flew out his father got out the front door and fell down the one step onto the porch, even with his walker, before his mom knew he had gotten out the door. Thus another ER visit. And baby gates and biometric locks were promptly installed throughout the house the following weekend.

It has been sobering.

Other stressors triggered my cPTSD. I wrote in my last post that T2 and I have had our differences. I realized because healthy wasn’t modeled for me that I wasn’t able to model it for her. At least not yet. She’s in her own world right now. She’s relying on her aunt and uncle. She texts her father before me even though we have a group chat.

And the only thing I hear in my head are the narcissistic and manipulative words of my birth parents. On repeat. Over and over again. The Chief will share with me something T2 has sent him and on more than one occasion I’ve had to type back, “I wouldn’t know. She hasn’t said anything to me.” I have to resist saying anything else to him and especially not to her. And the words of my birth parents get louder and louder. And it’s exhausting. Bone weary exhaustion and sadness.

So I keep every exchange polite and short.

My period came a week early and lasted two weeks. That means out of whack mood swings, lethargy, and hot flashes. Work is good but people are unnecessarily annoying the niceness out of me. Students. Teachers. All idiots.

Several weeks of night terrors. Some because of my poor choices and the guilt and consequences of less than Christian grace. Others because of the actions of others triggering me or causing new harm.

Then one Friday night, just before my online D&D group, I got more triggering news. It brought up too much. The game session itself wasn’t too bad until the last 20 minutes. I slept poorly having another nightmare. And everything blew up online that morning. Good grief. It’s a game with practical strangers! Walk away. Why fight to hold on to it? Because I know I wasn’t myself. Because the other player has his world imploding and wasn’t himself–where is the grace if I don’t try to work things out? We’re working through things and being civil and trying to show grace. Will it save the game? I hope so, but I have also taken responsibility and have offered the leave at the DM’s discretion.

We’ve had one weekend without an ER visit and hoping this weekend is the same. T2 is using the group chat more and at least responded to questions. My hormones are better but my blood sugar is whacky. At least I am not in Fight mode anymore.

But today I feel off. The house is too quiet. I had no plans. No D&D on Friday, none in person today. It bothered me that I could actually spend the whole day sleeping. 😱 That’s not me! I live for napping. I did get a friend to go on an hour walk with me and the dogs (and her grandpuppies) so that killed 2 hours. But by 6 pm I was bored. Not bored enough to go to the movies or something else by myself (I did that last weekend) but definitely blah.

I texted the Chief that busy weekends stress me out but having no plans has me on edge. I can’t win I guess.

Role Models Are Important

I’ve said all along my job was to raise them and push them out of the nest. However nothing healthy was ever modeled for me. It’s one thing to say “I’ll raise them differently” but to know how to have an healthy adult relationship with them is something else entirely. It’s new territory for both of us. And the Chief isn’t exactly the model of healthy communication skills either. Unfortunately I have an inner soundtrack stuck on repeat. Once I figure out how to shut it off, what am I supposed to replace it with? Good thing I have therapy tomorrow!

I feel like over the course of the last 14 months or so, I’ve had more epiphanies than I ever did in my first 48 years. This past December 28th & 29th was no different. T2 and I hit an emotional wall and frankly neither of us behaved well. The problem is that I have the voices of the past as the only example of how to be. It’s terrifying and disgusting. It’s exhausting and defeating. It’s a self-loathing and nastiness that I want to run away from as fast as I can… It’s the things that I perpetuated and hurt my own children with… subjecting them to generational trauma that I wasn’t even aware of.

Now that I am aware… what do I do? This biggest thing is to be AWARE. Stop. Pause. Listen to the words coming OUT of MY mouth. If possible, identify where they come from (who they come from). Identify any feelings behind the words. Apologize. Don’t make excuses. Attempt change instead of being stuck. And don’t become the self-centered, narcissistic abusers that hurt us all.

I’m terrified it’s too late. Especially when the words in my memory banks become the words that come out of my mouth (or finger tips).

The big epiphany also included that I was expecting a 21 year old to have the correct normal and healthy response to an emotionally triggered person. T2 marches to her own drum and at times can be very blunt because of the way she sees the world. She did not pick up on the cue but I was expecting her to somehow automatically know the right things to say and do. Completely disregarding the fact she never had it modeled for her! She never saw healthy interactions between me and her grandparents, not in emotionally charged situations. And I’m struggling right now to find the right way myself.

After a tense 24 hours where we switched from texting to actually talking in person, T2 and I did have the heart-to-heart and apologies were said. The Chief and I sort of addressed an elephant in the room…I wouldn’t necessarily say that I resigned myself to certain things in our marriage but I did ask him to consider that I chose, after 23 years, a path of least resistance and for the most part our marriage is actually better than it has ever been.

True to form, we celebrated our 28th wedding anniversary on multiple days, in multiple ways (even getting away for a few days early to take advantage of T2 being home to pet sit before she moved out for her internship), and having the most glorious lazy rainy day with our dogs on our actual anniversary followed by dinner out a local teppanyaki restaurant with complete strangers and having a wonderful evening and meal.

At least I hope I’m getting this part right as a role model to the girls–what a loving, patient, devoted marriage looks like.

We’ll Take a Used One, Please.

This weekend the Chief and I were visiting my old stomping grounds for the last time to bring T2 home from college. She still has a semester to go but she’s off campus the whole time at an internship. It was a little bittersweet as I reminisced about my last weekend on campus 28 years ago almost to the day.

One of the special blessings of having T2 go to the same school is that she also got to go to the same congregation. Not very many of the faces were the same but I still knew some of them. Again, bittersweet. We joked that in another 24 years T2 could come back with her children. I said it will probably be sooner because T2 has promised me she will adopt half a dozen kids or a baseball team.

At lunch we were talking with new friends, comparing then vs. now. “Oh yes, back then, when they met in the smaller rental place before this building was built, 8 women had 11 babies in the span of 3.5 years! The Chief told me to stop drinking the water!”

“Yes, don’t drink the water!” the Chief chimed in. “And if you want more, we’ll pick up a used one.” The Chief went on to explain that it was very trying for him to be at sea during my pregnancies. He never knew if he’d get a call that I had to go to the hospital with my supraventricular tachycardia or other illness. “So I told her I’d get her a used one if she really wanted one but no more pregnancies.”

Our friend said, “And yet you never did?” I laughed and joked about all of our ‘adopted’ children and how we ended up on each other’s Christmas cards. Told him about how one year the Chief told me to stop adopting everyone so I put that on the Christmas card “The Chief said I couldn’t adopt any more kids so I got a Borzoi and a son-in-law!” These are the best kinds of adoptions where we are NOT financially responsible!

Today, I got to thinking about this lighthearted conversation. And I asked myself why we never did seek adoption.

A couple of reasons. One was definitely the financial aspect. Sounds a little selfish. If we had our own biological third or fourth child they still have financial costs. But in reality that may have just been an excuse.

I didn’t think anyone would find me worthy or mentally stable enough to adopt. I couldn’t bare to face that rejection. I battled antepartum and postpartum depression with T2. The lasting effects of complex PTSD and all the baggage that went with that? I struggled with just the two children I had.

Later I had wondered about foster care and temporary ‘adopting’ … But I doubted I would pass muster. And knowing the trauma and abuse these children suffer, what would happen if that was too triggering for me? Would I be able protect my daughters from potential violence brought into the home? Was that fair to them?

These questions make me sad but they are the reality.

I highly recommend From the Foster House to the White House by Terrence Williams and Fostered by Tori Hope Peterson.

T2 does not want biological children but she wants a home full of children and dogs (“one dog per child!”) to love and minister to–that’s just who she is. And I will love each and every one of them so much that my heart will burst. T2 will never cease to amaze me.