Tag: acceptance

Moving Forward

I have had friends that have struggled with addiction and/alcoholism through the years. And since I know it’s a disease, I stand by them. What do you need? You got this! I’m here for you! It always seemed so completely heartless when someone they loved abandoned them. How could they not be there for them in their time of need? Don’t they see they are trying to be well? Then, I was that loved one.

I once dated someone who was a recovering alcoholic. I met him after his rock bottom. I met him into his walk of sobriety. He told me about when he came back after getting sober. His wife had a function planned, and they were serving wine. He served wine. I was shocked at the insensitivity she had. Why wouldn’t she cancel the function? Why would she let there be alcohol there when she KNEW he was trying to be sober?

Why? Because she had years but having to cancel things or put her life on hold. Because he’s lied about his drinking before and this was just one more time he was going to disrupt her world. Because the rest of the world didn’t see what she had to live with, day after day, so this wasn’t anything new. She was tired. She didn’t care. She couldn’t care. He had siphoned all of the worry and care out of her for years and years. She just wanted to live life. She didn’t trust or believe him. She was done.

Did he need support? Absolutely. And he found in friends and family. And I’m sure she’s glad he did. He’s doing well. She’s doing well.

When alcoholism hit my family, I started going to a support group. The first thing they told me was to detach with love. Let go of control. I read the following, “today, if I am tempted to interfere what’s something that is none of my business, I can turn my attention instead to some way in which I can take care of myself.”

I disagreed with them. I am not controlling. In fact, I am pretty out of control most of the time. Detach with love? But he needs me! Now seems like the WORST time to detach! They told me that he needed to be in control of his sobriety. Not me. I had to let go. I could support and love, but I needed to stop doing things for him.

The next day I started to get his stuff together and thought, no, he needs to. It’s just paper work. He can grab it himself. Then later I went to text him to ask if he made his appointment…no. He needs to. Then I googled local AA meetings…no. he needs to do it. Oh my gosh. Beth. STOP.

I looked at the bills I had organized, the budget I made for him. I looked at the cleaning supplies I got to bring to his house to clean with. I realized that I am his enabler. I just keep bailing him out. He needs to do it. But how? How do you look at someone you love and just step aside? When you know they won’t do it themselves, and you want to help?

“If they don’t want to be well, they won’t be. And there’s no amount of ‘doing it for them’ that will bring them there.” Ouch.

So I read up on codependency. I was the victim role. Always the victim of my alcoholic. And if I wanted any chance at all of us being healthy, I had to stop putting myself in positions that made me the victim. So, I tried to detach with love. I tried to be supportive and ask about his journey. And I waited or the deep talks and healing to begin. I was ready to work on me while he worked on himself.

What I wasn’t ready for was the backlash that came. If I asked about his sobriety, his house, his family, I was immediately met with anger and rage. Accusations of me being on drugs. Reminders of how I abandoned him. Screaming and cussing at me. And my response, to give it right back. That was our cycle: attack, defend, yell, repeat. It was way harder than I anticipated. I can be pretty mean. I know the low blows. And all the years of working on me, went out the door every time we had an arguement. I could feel the toxicity seeping out of me. I hate that side of me.

There was one day I went out to help with yard work. I immediately felt the impulse to “look for evidence”. Just like I had done years before. I didn’t trust he was sober. So I started looking around. Then I stopped. Is this what I want? To always feel like I need to check the hiding spots to “catch” him? No. I can’t. I don’t have the energy. He lies. A lot. He sneaks. A lot. As do most alcoholics. And I can’t “snoop” my way into trust. This is something he has to do. I am not a victim of him. He is a victim of his addiction.

So I stopped asking. I stopped responding with anything more than a “that’s too bad” or “I’m happy for you”. Slowly I started noticing being treated differently by him. And things dissolved.

It’s not about love. It’s not about not wanting someone well. It’s about awareness of your own part in toxicity and not participating. If you see someone working on sobriety or being clean, BE THERE FOR THEM. I can’t stress that enough. They need their family and friends. But just know, that person that “abandoned” them? They had to walk away. Because they were probably in a place where neither could heal with the other there. Every week I share with my therapist something I wanted to say and didn’t. Or something I shouldn’t have said, but did. I talk through why I wanted to say it, and why I didn’t. I feel like a toddler learning to walk. A bit wobbly. And when I fall, I stand back up.

It matters to me. So I’m just going to say it.

When I was a kid, my mom had a friend with a daughter who was just awful. She was rude, bratty, mean, and selfish. We would often have playdates while our moms visited. It was always exciting and anxiety ridden. This little girl had EVERY toy. It was kid heaven. Unfortunately, her mom took a firm stand on the “I’m not going to force my kid to share if she doesn’t want to. Adults don’t have to share, so why do we make kids?” belief. (I would like to add that I do not make my children share things that are important or special to them. If that’s your favorite toy, offer them another one. Set your boundaries, but still be kind an inclusive.) So we would go to this kids house and she would not let us touch anything. Or she would give us crappy, broken toys.

She was also super nasty to my little sister. Try to scare her with things, make fun of her, give her things and take them away, etc. My sister would cry and she would straight up lie about what happened. I would watch this happen. Sometimes I would tell what really happened, but she usually had an excuse and then would act out on me. So I would just ignore it. I wasn’t looking to have that nastiness aimed at me. I seemed to have worked my way into the “I guess you can play with some stuff” arena. And I was going to keep that going. We would tell our mom in the car about how mean she was, and our mom would comfort us and tell us that she is glad we weren’t mean and selfish.

Then, one day, my little sister wasn’t playing with us. I don’t remember why. Sick? Sleeping? Gone? Whatever the reason, I was the “little one” then. I’m sure you can guess what that meant for me. She spent the visit terrorizing me. Not to the extent of my sister, since I was older, but enough to leave me in tears, wanting to go home.

There are a lot of times in life that we see injustice done and we continue to let it happen because it’s not directly affecting us. Racism. Classism. Sexism. Homophobia. Abuse. We know these things. We may even talk about them amongst ourselves in agreement that they’re wrong. But how often do we put ourselves out there when these things happen? If little kid Bethy had loudly took a stand against that bully, to my mom as it was happening, then maybe some change could have happened. Yes, being validated though conversation is a good thing. But it doesn’t solve the problem. There may be a day when that problem becomes your own. Will just you want someone to agree with you and carry on with life? Or will you want them to actively take a stand on your behalf?

While there are many examples of this in life, there is one that has been weighing on me. After talking to my husband about it, I decided that it’s something I should share publicly.

I am bisexual.

“You’re married to a man, so who cares?” I care. The bisexual community cares.

There are a few in my life know this. A lot that do not. Up until now, I didn’t think it was relevant to share. I always thought, “If I ever fall in love with a woman, then I will come out. What’s the point of causing issue if it’s not necessary?”

One of the most difficult things is trying to explain bisexuality to someone who thinks they know, and doesn’t care to learn.

When I was 15/16 I was working a Greek restaurant. There was this teenage girl that would come in on a regular basis. She was beautiful, funny, sweet, and every time I saw her I would get butterflies and my face would turn red. It was very confusing since I was raised very “Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve”. I had crushes on famous females growing up. Clarissa was SO PRETTY AND COOL AND FUNNY. But just thought it must be that I admired them. Wanted to be like them. I wasn’t attracted to my female friends, and I did like boys. So I am definitely straight. Right? That teenage girl flooded me with confusion. Am I GAY?

After almost 20 years, I now understand what is misunderstood by most. Bisexuality is not turning on or off gayness or straightness. It is it’s own thing. I am attracted to and have the capacity to love both male and females. I am not straight just because I am married to a man. And the woman I’ve romantically been with didn’t make me gay. I am consistantly attracted to both genders. Not constantly, like some believe. Consistantly. Being bisexual does not mean I am going to run off with a woman or that I want a polygamist relationship. If you can be a straight person who is married, and see an attractive person of the opposite sex without feeling the urge to run off, you should be able to comprehend that I can be attracted to woman but be married to man. It’s the same exact thing. Commitment is specific to the person, not their sexual orientation.

I feel like a coward. Because I’m married to a man, I have the option to never tell anyone. I can sit here living as a straight person and it wouldn’t affect me in the slightest. I can discuss inequality and the rights of the LGBT community, but I can do it from a safe place of observation. I don’t have make people uncomfortable. I can ignore when people make homophobic jokes because they are not aware they of that aspect of me. Cowardice.

As I watch the rights of the LGBT community being chipped away, I am faced with the reality of my complacency. I talked to my husband about it, “what if something happened to you? And years from now I met a woman and fell in love with her? How many other woman are out there just like me, who find a woman instead of a man and are terrified to be with them because of the direction our country is taking? I feel like I need to come out. It seems silly since you’re a man and I’m not dating anymore. But I feel like I’ve turned my back on the LGBT community. I feel like my ‘I’ll come out if I have to’ approach is the same as saying I don’t want to have to suffer unnecessarily at the hands of bullies, so I’m going to sell off a part of my self to keep things nice for ME. I feel selfish.”

Like being little kids playing with that bully. I didn’t want to rock the boat. I felt bad, and even spoke out about things. But I liked not being the target and it ate at me not doing the right thing.

This post feels very anticlimactic. Because there’s nothing life changing for me. I am still exactly who I am. Learning this about me won’t change my relationships with you unless you change it. Will I get backlash? Oh I’m pretty sure. My kids have shared some of the things they’ve heard adults say about the gay community. About them going to hell. About them being disgusting. About how people should have the right to discriminate against them. My kids have come to me upset that there are adults that say such awful hateful things, while I have raised them to understand that love is love. There are different kinds. And no one’s love looks the same. I have told them that if they or any of their friends ever came out, I would protect and defend them from anyone who said hateful things.

I am bisexual. It does not affect my life as my life is now. But denying or ignoring this aspect of my life supports those who are trying to associate homosexuality with shame. And I refuse to feel shame about this aspect of who I am.

Hi. I am Beth. And I’m a toxic person.

One of my favorite things that social media and technology has brought to my generation is its ability to help us cope, understand, and process dysfunction and toxicity that is in our lives. I see it all the time. People in my age group properly able to identify unhealthy behavior in themselves and in others. That doesn’t mean they necessarily know how to deal with it, but they can identify it. Which is a huge step.

A few weeks back I had a friend say to me, “I feel like I’m gaslighting them! I didn’t even realize I was doing it. They deserve better than that.” My friend was 100% serious and concerned about it. The self awareness this person has in their 30s is astounding to me. They are toxic. They know they are. And they are able to zero in on exactly what they are doing that is dysfunctional, and even tell me why they think they are like this. 

I am a toxic person. I have the potential to suck out all the life of a person. I can manipulate. I can read people and very quickly know what they are insecure about. I can sense vulnerability and dysfunction like a freaking superpower. I can also tell when a person is emotionally healthy. I can feel boundaries that are set (or not set) almost immediately after meeting someone. My comfort zone is filled with toxic interactions and unhealthy behaviors. 

I sound like a gem, eh? Well, I think I am. Not because that stuff doesn’t matter. Because I fight that stuff EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. Ask anyone who knew me in my 20s. Talk to my exes. I was not a bad person. But I was broken. The adult I was trying to be was not one on a healthy path. It was one who used white lies, cheated, and manipulated to get my way. I didn’t want to be like that. I did not like seeing the ones I loved hurt by me. 

I started seeing a therapist. I started making a conscious effort. I had to learn how to purge the toxicity from my interactions. It sucked. It was hard. No…not was. It is hard. I find when I’m with other people working on themselves, or people that are emotionally stable, it is easy. I can relax and just be. But the moment someone with dysfunction enters my life, I want to retreat to my ever so toxic comfort zone. I can feel it. I can hear it in what I say. I leave feeling angry at myself. Ashamed. 

I like to cut people in their 20s some slack. That decade is such a shit hole anyways. Add in having to process through childhood/adolescence and you’re left with some pretty lost adults who are trying to sort through 2 decades of preparation for adulthood. It’s exhausting and can be overwhelming. But once you’re in your 30s, get your shit together. You have had over a decade of making your own choices. At this point, your life is what you have made it. Acknowledge what you’ve been through and grow. 

I am a toxic person. I have to know this always. I have to understand and be compassionate to those who distance themselves from me. I have to work 10x as hard to make sure I keep my toxicity from my children. I need to make sure my children find dysfunction uncomfortable and wrong. I have to make sure I guard myself from others who take me by the hand and try to lead me down to that place I’ve escaped from. I need to acknowledge what brought me to this point, but not dwell on it, blame does not add to my growth. I need to know that when I do slip up, I tell whoever I hurt I was wrong and they deserve better. 

If you are a toxic person, you are not a bad person. Every day, every interaction, you have a choice to do better, to be better. Find a therapist. (I know I know, therapist shopping is the WORST. But don’t settle for one that isn’t helping you.) Start working on rewiring yourself. Your life will be happier. Your relationships will be better. You will thrive. 

The Freedom of Being Stuck

Growing up, there were two types of vacations. Going to some sort of amusement park, such as Cedar Point, Disney, or Six Flags, or the family road trip. Most times, it was the family road trip. There was always someone getting married, graduating, or we just hadn’t been to visit in a long time. I absolutely LOVED a fun filled, constant stimulating, amusement park type vacation. To me, THAT was what a vacation should be.

Then, my dad remarried when I was 15. My step mom’s family had a small place on the lake in Ludington, MI. I love the lake, and I love fishing. So I was pretty excited about this. So we all packed up on a hot July day, and headed to spend the week as a family. It was by far, the most uncomfortable vacation that I ever had. Not uncomfortable because of our new family, we all got along quite well. Uncomfortable because I didn’t know what to do. There was nothing planned. We literally were just stuck there. I was going out of my mind with boredom. I fished, went to the beach, took walks and found that I did everything there was to do in the first day we were there. For a teenager, this was TORTURE.

So, I picked up the book I brought, put my bikini on, and sat outside and read the whole thing. Then proceeded to read all the books my sisters brought as well. When was there going to be something fun to do?? Then it hit me, I’m stuck here, so I mine as well enjoy it. I started noticing the sounds, smells, and beauty all over. My hyper, over stimulated self left, and a new relaxed Beth took over. It ended up being one of the best vacations I’ve ever had. I felt recharged and peaceful. After that, I looked forward to our Ludington trips. I knew it was a week that there was no phone, no computer, no schedule. It was just quiet, slow paced peace.

I’m going to jump to another topic now. Have you ever lost or broke your phone? It’s the WORST. It makes you feel lost, helpless, and disconnected. And to all those, “How did we ever l survive without phones? Back in my day…” people, I get it. I remember only having a house phone. I didn’t have a phone as teenager either. But the reality is, a cell phone is a NEED for me. My job, my kids, and yes, (don’t downplay the importance of) my social outlet. Losing/breaking your phone can make your life come to holt.

This has happened to me MANY times. Usually, it would mean I would be without a phone for 1-3 days. My response is usually the same. Anger, frustration, and sadness, which I definitely share with anyone that will listen to me. Then, like with my trip to Ludington, I have a moment where I realize I am stuck. It’s not going to get here any faster because I’m pissed off about it. So I just go with it.

There is a certain amount of freedom in not having a phone. Instead of reading my FB news feed, I would read a book. Instead of playing a phone game, I would play a board game. Once I accepted there wasn’t constant stimulation, I enjoyed all the other things I never had time for before.

This last week I wanted to leave. My kids were gone, and I wanted to take a trip sonewhere…anywhere. It didn’t happen. I spent the first half of my vacation helping my mom after surgery, and the second half, I am now stuck at home. I cried, threw an adult version of a temper tantrum, and finally came to accept that you know what, I can’t change it. Now that I’ve let go of the expectation of what my vacation week was supposed to look like, I can enjoy it.

After 30 years on this planet, you think that I would be able to have this realization a little quicker. But you know what? It’s hard to let go of what we think we need or want and take life, with all it’s obstacles, and decide to enjoy an alternative. We all know to “make the best” of any situation, but sometimes it takes being stuck with no way out to finally be able to have peace with the fact that we don’t have control. Maybe other’s don’t need to be completely cornered in life to finally slow themselves down, but I do. I want to do everything. I want to go everywhere. I want to constantly be on the go and be around people.

I honestly believe that I NEED to be alone with nothing and no one to be preparing for. No to-do list or itinerary. Nothing to take up my thoughts or time. No plans made, and no expectations. Now I can work on my personal stuff I always put off. I can let my mind wander and my creativity progress uninterrupted. I am free, if only for a few days. I need to appreciate that.

Yeah, Yeah, I’m so Stong. Like I Have a Choice

Oh, death. We have become far too familiar.  For any of you that didn’t know, my brother died tragically in an accident on February 24, 2015. I sat in my car, reading and rereading the message. I HAVE to be reading this wrong. there is no way. I just saw him at our dad’s funeral just a couple months before. We had just talked on Facebook. This can’t be real. I started shaking and called my mom. We sat together sobbing and holding each other. Is this some kind of sick joke? How much can one family handle? When can the sorrow and pain stop?

I would say, across the board, the response from those in our lives was a pretty consistent, “You have got to be shitting me” followed by, “Are you fucking serious?” with a few, “What. The. Actual. Fuck.” Even our more uptight, conservative friends and family found themselves only able to convey their complete shock without the added profanity. Which I was actually quite grateful for, because seriously. What the fuck.

After the denial was unable to stay, and the overwhelming sadness took a brief break, I found myself angry. Very, very angry. At Matthew, at my dad, at death, and at the world in general. How could they just die? How could they leave us? It’s kind of ridiculous to be angry at the deceased. They didn’t choose it. But I still was. I wanted to yell at my dad for not being here. For leaving right before something so tragic happened. I wanted to yell at him for leaving my mom without her rock. For her to have to grieve this without him. I wanted to yell at my brother for leaving his children. I wanted to scream at him that he was such a jerk for talking with me about coming to Germany to see him and the kids and then leaving before I could. I wanted to cry and yell at them both for dying so close together. I wasn’t done grieving dad, Matthew! He’s suppose to have my grief right now! Not you! I want to be able to grieve Matt, Dad! Why did you have to die first? Now he won’t get the grief he deserves!

Stupid, huh? To be so mad at them? Well, I know it’s not really anger. It’s immense sadness. These were two people I loved dearly. I want their lives to be seen, thought of, and missed individually. I don’t want their deaths to be lumped together. I don’t want them to have to share in this time, even if it’s a horrible time. It SHOULD be separate.

So, after I had my internal emotional temper tantrum, I just accepted it. I say just, but in all reality, this is not an “I just..” type thing. What other choice to you have but to accept it? It’s not like it’s a decision you make. Well, I guess I could opt for going completely crazy, but that being the only alternative kind of decides that acceptance is really the only choice in the matter. So now what? Time to start the grief process over again.

I would like to share with any of you readers a little insight to multiple losses. This is something I was not aware of until the last couple weeks. You are only aloud one large loss a year. More than that, and you will be treated as if you have an infectious disease. For all of my loved ones reading this, please do not take this personal. I do appreciate the support, but it is different. And, I too am guilty of avoidance in similar situations. It just is what it is.

The first loss, you will have an outpouring of support. People will send flowers. They will cook meals. They will accommodate you missing work. They will hold you and tell you, “You grieve however you need to. There is no wrong way.” Then, a small amount of time goes by, and BAM. You’re hit with another death in your family. But this time it’s different. You receive texts, Facebook messages, encouraging photos, and then it’s done. You’re expected to snap back quicker this time. You put a smile on you face, and respond with a well rehearsed, “We’re hanging in there.” or “Yeah, our family has had a lot thrown at us, but we’ll get through.” While you’re really thinking, “I’m not ok and I hate that I have to pretend that we’re all so fucking strong all the time.”

I started wondering why this was. I was very honest about things after my dad died. I would just say, “My kids are late to school because I can’t sleep at night, and when I finally do fall asleep at 3am, my body doesn’t wake up.” and “I can barely remember to brush my teeth in the morning, so I’m sorry I forgot her permission slip, can I have another one?” and “No, I haven’t checked my email. I am overwhelmed and have no desire for human interaction at the moment. Please be patient with me, I am trying to function normally again.” No one want’s to hear that after the second death. Because life goes on. People keep living, and the time allotted to you for grief has expired.

I don’t want people to avoid me. That’s what it comes down to. We hear SO much to “cut the negative out of our life”. I don’t want to be cut out of people’s lives. What a line of horse shit. All those who are “cutting the negative” are cutting out my family and me. We need to cut out the toxic people in our life, yes, but not the negative. Life is so full of positive and negative. People feel uncomfortable around someone who is wounded. I do. I am such a coward. I do not deal well with death, divorce, illness, etc. And it’s not because I don’t care. On the contrary. I hate seeing someone I love or care about hurt, and not know how to fix it. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do. So I avoid. And I’m here to tell you, now being on the receiving end of the avoidance, it freaking sucks. So, I act. I change the subject when I can tell my sadness is making the other person uncomfortable. I laugh, and smile, and make jokes as much as I can, so people can feel at ease. It let’s them take a deep breathe and not feel like they need to walk on eggshells around me, and avoid being with me.

People keep saying, “If you need anything, let me know!” Well folks, even though I know that’s just what you say whether you mean it or not, I am going to tell you what I need. I need people to take charge for me. I feel alone, and I want to be with people. I just can’t seem to get my shit together. I need people to let me say stupid stuff without feeling offended. I need to be able to say overly depressing things and not be met with a subject change or you leaving. Most the time, I’ve just been holding it in too long, and it comes out all wrong. I need people to treat me the same as before. For god’s sake. Make jokes with me. Plan things with me and then harass me to death about remembering it, because I will forget. I need you to cut me some slack with, well, everything. I know this is a temporary state I’m in. I’m just trying figure out what and how much I am able to handle. You see, I do like to help. I do like to do things, be in charge of things, and be counted on for things. The problem is, I will be fine one min, and then it all just hits me. I will drop the ball, please just pick it up for me and do not make me feel like a failure. I do not know my limits, and I’m trying so hard to figure them out.

My brother’s death has hit me in a different way than my dad. My dad was involved in my day to day life. My brother was not. So, in that aspect, a lot of my issues have to do with the things my dad did for me that I have to figure out without him. With Matthew, I am able to do my daily duties without the need for him. But I’m still not ok. I now have anxiety attacks almost every day. I get a panic feeling in my stomach when my phone rings. I worry about the other people in my life. What would I do if they died? They could. At any moment. How does everyone else not feel completely helpless about this? Now, logically, I know this is a silly thing to spend time worrying about. 99% of the time, things happen, and we’re ok. How many times do we say, “Whoa! That was close!” It makes me wonder how many times I’ve almost died, and just missed it. I know I cannot live my life with these lingering fears. We can’t dwell on death all the time. None of us would ever get anything done. It is just so prominent in my life right now.

One last thing I would like anyone reading this to do. Just stop. Feel the air around you. Look at your world. Notice the colors, feel the temperature, take a deep breathe, and let yourself just exist for a second. Watch your loved ones move around. Notice their quirks. Memorize their facial expressions. Because you never know when “That was close!” will turn into, “I can’t believe they’re gone.”