Many of us that are “bloggers” are looking to stand our ground and declare our intelligence on one subject or another. We use our “bully pulpit” to write a group of words that flow together, in order to persuade, entice, encourage, or convince others about something that can or should be done. People blog about all sorts of things. There are the “how to’s” from business owners, contractors or experts of the trade, there are the “must have product/recipe” from the one who simply wants to share with you, and then there are the “just to say it out loud” bloggers who want nothing more than to have a place to speak from, not to sell you anything, except their perspective. They are all attempting to sell you something, even this blog, even me. My goal? To convince you to check internally for what you already know. I don’t want to convince you of much, other than that whatever you say you can be or want to be is possible. I believe in love. I believe a world full of love can conquer and over run all the hatred surrounding us. I believe that we can be so much more than our pain and suffering. And while I want you to believe that too, I am not here to force you to. I am only offering an encouraging word toward that love. And my own story.

At the end of the day, even if you read this blog every morning, it will only register with you for a few minutes up to maybe an hour or two. The routine of your typical day and your learned synaptic neurotransmission will coast you toward the behaviors and responses that you usually have. The only way to reprogram these is to begin doing something different than you have been doing before. And then, to stick to it. For some, there is a chemical imbalance factor, yet for others, it is a physical dysfunction of working parts. There is clear scientific evidence that our behaviors are causing our dis-ease (the inability to be at ease in our body). Where can we start if we have underlying factors that are now a part of our programming? The only place we can… and with the only thing we can control. Within ourselves.

Maybe I haven’t been entirely honest when I began here. Maybe I haven’t been as vulnerable as I would have liked to be. Maybe I haven’t confessed the true reasons behind starting a blog, or the depths I had to crawl out from in order to summon the guts it took me to even think I could build a webpage (on the easiest platform “building” a webpage could be, mind you). I’m going to share with you something personal, from my closet of skeletons, in hopes that you, too, will be able to be vulnerable with yourself and make the decisions that have been clawing at your neck, but you’ve yet to allow to actually surface.

On thanksgiving of last year, I separated myself from my biological mother, father, sisters, nieces, nephews and the only grandparent I have left. Separated, as in, I divorced them. I don’t have an adopted family, I simply stated “biological” because these are the people I came from, and I need you to understand the strength it takes to remove oneself from that which they’re familiar.  Something happened as a result of our learned and deeply conditioned behaviors with one another that I still feel a deep sadness in my heart about. After working as hard as I had been on myself for over a year, and longer realistically, I regressed back into behaviors that I wasn’t proud of at all. While I know I only regressed slightly, the others were in fear of me regressing more and so they reacted to what they expected. I feel their fear still; fear of my fear. The violent way I led my life previously should have landed me in much worse trenches than it has, and I feel torn between blessed for the grace I was granted and ashamed of myself for those paying for violence they didn’t commit. My heart bleeds a slow leak of pain for their sorrow.

I grew up in an addict house. Everyone was “addicted” to something. It was our religion. We all knew the lines, the verses and sayings. We also knew the rules;”Just for today”, “let go and let God”, “that’s their stuff, and let them have it”, “people, places, things”. There were many verses similar to the lessons of other religious or spiritual teachings. Ours just didn’t give God a name. God was the “God of your own understanding”, which works for bringing in the masses of multicultural participants who all relate to the same devil. Funny how God doesn’t have a name but the devil does. Oddly enough, I’ve grown to love Jesus and Buddha among others, but have also not completely decided that any of them are the only way, or that there is a “way” of final destination. It’s still up for debate with me. I have been conditioned enough to decide that just for today, I’m not going to give into pressures, violence or behaviors I will later need to regret if I can help it. I know the only way to help anyone else is to help yourself first. I know that I must let go because God has a plan or an agreement with them and that, that is their stuff and I must let them have it. I also know that while it may seem odd, different or  cruel, that these are my people, places and things I cannot be around if I want to stay clean. And I really want to be clean. Not of drugs or alcohol as I was never an addict of either, nor do I indulge/overindulge today, but of the one thing I always said at meetings, when I’ve attended with friends, was my drug of choice; chaos. I’m really trying to be stripped of chaotic and self destructive behaviors. They don’t make ME my best self.

My mother showed up uninvited at my sons school after almost 6 months of absence. She waited for me to drop him off and stood by the entrance to the schoolyard. She said she wanted to see him, and for him to know he is loved and missed. She acknowledged that this “isn’t her doing” and that, “Your mom has always been hardheaded”. My 9 year old son who is empathetic and sensitive like me, felt sad that my mom and everyone else misses him, and confessed he misses them too. When he came home and told me about this encounter, my whole body filled with rage. Rather than be there for him, and be nurturing and concerned for how this affected him, I was once again taken over with the chemical rush of chaotic encounters and disappointment turned into anger. Thanks to my own self awareness, I promptly told him to go away from me. I did speak a little harshly and tell him I felt betrayed, but in hindsight, the betrayal wasn’t his, it was my own. I never honestly learned how to be supportive of someone when they were struggling. I only know how to “fix” things or scream and yell about the problem’s condition.

Even without their presence, I still struggle with rage.

Within a few minutes I was able to recognize that this had nothing to do with him, nor was it his fault for being vulnerable while facing my “devil”. I told him I didn’t think it was kind or fair for someone to speak ill of me to him, even in their own defense or in order to shed light on what they may think he might not know. He knew. I speak openly and honestly with him about all of these things because he’s brilliant and more emotionally sound than I am at times. Sometimes I call him “little Jesus” because he lets me know when I am being unfair or unkind. I also asked him if he would be sadly disappointed about not seeing them and if he would need for me to make arrangements for him to see them, while I was making a break for it. He said “no” and explained to me the reasons he felt it was unnecessary for him to engage with them right now and that he would let me know if he changes his mind in the future. Here we are. In the future. He says he still doesn’t want to see them and can understand that they really aren’t good for us. I don’t know if this is how he really feels or if he just wants to protect me. Either way, I need to stay focused on my own pain and hurt before I can help anyone else out of this dilemma.

Even without their presence, I still struggle with being the parent I long to be.

I came home and shed a few tears for the broken promises of my father to change how we behaved with one another at the end of 2009.Then a few for the whispered understanding my mother and I came to while we were both injured in 2015, but she still refuses to accept or acknowledge to anyone else. I still have heartache from the demands I felt I could never keep up with or live up to by the family that constantly pointed fingers for blame. I still lose myself in moments of “but they’re your FAMILY”, and forget that unconditional love can be given without liking behaviors or being present. I still long for the elephants exposure in the room and a group effort at leading the elephant away. I needed to grieve. The reminder that they are still alive, yet I cannot see them, was real. Like salt in a wound I was a marred animal trying to crawl back to my cave, my place of fortitude, of solace, of peace. When I got here I cried. I screamed just to let it out (not toward anyone, just for release), I shook. I needed to be held.

Then, suddenly, I remembered I was safe. There was no need for this kind of behavior or for feeling like a bird with a broken wing. I was only clipped because I ALLOWED myself to be clipped. I was only reacting to the chaos that once crippled me, rather than responding, or better yet, turning away from it. It served its purpose to me already and made me the strong resilient woman I am today, but it no longer holds a threat over my head. It no longer keeps me in chains. It no longer decides for me who I am, or what I will become. It’s no longer in control of me. I am.

32 years of being told that you’re not good enough, that you’re never going to live up to this or that, that you’re “crazy” or “too judgmental”, is enough for one person to learn from. With respect to my previous post and the lyrics that ring so true, I don’t have to put on the “red light”. I can live whatever way I want to and be whoever I say I am. What I cannot do is drag the baggage with me that causes me to stumble and fall. I must be free of the load that weighs me down. I don’t judge it, or call it wasteful. It was nourishment that my body has utilized in order to sustain life. But, like all things in life, it was temporary and is no longer useful. I drank from that cup and while the times were enjoyable when I was drunk, and the life of the party, I no longer enjoy the hangover. So I’m remaking my decision, one which, I didn’t technically break in the first place, but remaking it nonetheless. It is what is best for me. Not because I look down at anyone or think I am better, but because the only way to be a better ME than I was yesterday, is to make the decisions that allow me to carry out better behaviors without judgment or a reminder of who I’ve “always” been. How can anyone change who they were yesterday, if who they were is never allowed to be put to rest?

I’ve met the ECHO*, of my younger me. I told her that while I appreciate her holding the place for all that was and being brave through it all, I have learned what I could and its time for me to move on. I hope all of the ECHO’s of whoever I once encountered can understand that this really isn’t about them. It’s about me. And it’s about not wanting to live that way any longer.

Up until now, I allowed myself to be persuaded by others. I made decisions according to society’s acceptance of what is right and what is wrong, rather than checking my own self inventory. I accepted the names I was called and proceeded to call others names in kind. I lived in the shadow of who I was yesterday. I felt sorrow and fear for not living up to someone else’s standards and I judged myself and them for where I was and how far I could go.

From now on, I am going to be the new me, One Day at a Time. The me I wake up with in the morning and the love I give her before I put my two feet on the ground. When I backslide, I will forgive myself and others and accept that old habits die hard. I will also not judge others for their behaviors or backslides and will keep in mind that it is ONLY my responsibility to be aware of myself. I will strive to be the best me that I can be today and will appreciate where I came from because it gives me a base to start from and a purpose in life. I will unconditionally love those that I do not agree with or like and send that love out into the universe for them rather than my disappointment of their behaviors. I will accept the things I cannot change. I will strive to have courage to change the things I can. I will be wise, and know the difference.

ECHO: in Greek mythology, distracted Hera with chatter, in order to assist Zeus in one of his many promiscuous endeavors. Hera cursed her for this, by allowing her words to only repeat the last of what another said. She later fell in love with Narcissus, who parted ways and broke her heart, causing her to diminish into nothing more than her voice.

ECHO: in matrix reimprinting, created by Karl Dawson, is an Energetic, Conscious, Hologram. This is basically a part of our consciousness that holds the place of the energy felt at the time of trauma.