Tag: peace

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.

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. 

It’s hard to come back from distrust.

I am a very human human. Meaning, with me, there is absolutely no delusions of being perfect. There is a certain amount of peace that comes with being self aware of your faults. There is also a large responsibility to face them head on. I really try to stay humble and make a concerted effort to not excuse wrongs I’ve done. This is an important step in growing as a person. And it is NOT fun. 

There are certain people we count on to be support through our growth. They are on your side, trying to help you succeed. Parents. Siblings. Friends. Pastors. Teachers. And many others. We all know who we can go to and say, “I messed up” to. I want to talk about one trusted person in my life who let myself and my children down. They failed us. They failed themselves. 

Story time. December 23, 2016. I excitedly went to my home parish for a meeting about my son being baptized. I had been through this before with my 3 other children, so I knew what to expect. I filled out the necessary paperwork and waited for the priest to come in. 

I could tell immediately the priest was agitated. It is days before Christmas, and he is new to the parish. I am sure his stress was maxed. I thanked him for meeting with me and introduced my children. He slammed down the paperwork and sat in a huff. At this point I am feeling guilty for taking up his time during such a busy season. So I tell myself, keep it brief, Beth. 

Name? Catholic? Oh really. Then what parish? Because I don’t recall seeing you every week. Child’s name? Father? Where is he? Oh so he must be an atheist. Are you with him? So you just had a baby with some guy? And how’s that going to work? Huh? 

Each question I answered straight to the point. With each question, his voice got harsher and his body language became more hostel. I was confused. Taken off guard. It took me way longer than it should have to realize this man was mistreating me. I asked him what he meant. I didn’t understand why it wouldn’t work. Then he raised his voice, “What I mean is, HOW are you going to raise you child Catholic when the father is an atheist? And you’re OBVIOUSLY not a Catholic either?? You’re expecting me to believe that? How? What about any of this tells me THAT CHILD will be raised Catholic?” 

I could feel the lump in my throat. “Because I’ve raised my other 3 children Catholic? They go to the Catholic school. They’ve received their sacraments. I am Catholic. I don’t understand why tou would think I wouldn’t.” He grabs the paper and slams his finger against the dad’s name, “This is why! This man is is not THEIR (points to my other children) father too! CATHOLICS DON’T HAVE SEX BEFORE THEY’RE MARRIED. You are NOT Catholic!”

The tears begin. 

Oh quit being so melodramatic! I don’t need to KNOW you. I’ve heard enough about you and your reputation! I know exactly what kind of a person YOU are! It’s not my job to CARE about your feelings. You didn’t make a mistake. You made a SIN. You are a sinner. STOP CRYING CALM DOWN AND QUIT BEING SO EMOTIONAL. Why would I ever believe you? You don’t live as a Catholic if you’re having SEX! Wah wah wah boo hoo! 

Every time I talked he got angrier. Slammed his fists on the table. Stood up and shoved the chair aside. Leaned across the table and out his finger in my face. 

I sent my kids in the hallway and he proceeded to yell and mock me for crying. He didn’t want to hear anything I had to say. He was angry at me for wasting his time when he had real Catholics to help.

Ultimately, he refused to baptize my son. I left shaking and sobbing. I had an expectation for this man. I expected to be met with love and kindness. Approval? No. But kindness, yes. He failed me. 

I got in the car and looked at my children. They were all crying too. And my heart shattered. Does this man know what he has done? He just robbed my children of innocence. I remember being a kid. Seeing the priest as almost a movie star. Getting excited to shake their hand. Feeling special if they new my name. Seeing them as someone holy. I didn’t realize that adults weren’t perfect. I was trusting. He just stole that from my kids. My kids just watched a 55 year old man verbally attack their mother. They just watched their “trusted” pastor refuse to let their brother, who they love more than anything, be part if the church. They were just shown someone in power be unforgiving and withhold compassion and understanding. I was so angry. My children were scandalized by this and I couldn’t fix it. 

I am a big girl. I can handle judgement. But my children? My kids will learn soon enough the world is imperfect. They will see with their own eyes that being in a higher position does not mean that a person is perfect. They will see the human in humans. He stole a part of their innocence. 

Their are certain people that are held to a higher standard. And they should be. Priests, teachers, police, government, etc. We don’t expect perfection, but we expect them to be putting the maximum amount of effort towards their pitfalls. 

This priest was removed from our parish. Not because of me, but because of another complaint that was filed by another female. This has brought me a bit of peace about it. I kept thinking, what if it wasn’t me he did that to? I can see this man and say, this is not the Catholic church. But what if I was someone with less roots in the faith? What if I was a pregnant woman seeking guidence? What if I had PTSD from an abusive relationship? 

Not all priests are bad. Most are good. But the bad ones NEED to be removed. We need to make sure that we keep our standard high. We need to protect ourselves from the bad ones. Every new priest that comes to our parish make my kids nervous. “I sure hope he’s not a mean one!” 

If a teacher was singling your child out, bullying, or mistreating them, we would want them fired, right? We would advocate for our children. 

If a police officer were mistreating a civilian, he should be fired, right? If my kids watched as an officer harassed and mistreated me, that would stay with them forever. Every police they met they would be met with distrust and caution. That’s why we hold them to a higher standard. Because we want them to feel happy to see the police. Feel safer with them there. 

Black children are scandalized by police, the way my children were by the priest. And it isn’t even a specific police officer. It’s the fact that their parents have warn them, from a young age, about the possibility of being targeted. They don’t get to grow up feeling safe every time they see a cop. I cannot imagine how heartbreaking it has to be to explain how severe the consequences could be if they don’t submit to them immediately. Having to tell my kids that respect isn’t enough. They have to be submissive. 

What about the good ones? Most officers do protect and serve the way they’re supposed to. These horrible officers, that are killing blacks, they are making it SO much harder on the good ones. It is so much harder to regain trust once it’s broken. 

This is why we have #blm. This is why we #takeaknee. Because we need to get those bad officers off the force. We need them to be held accountable. We need them to be fired. So the good ones can keep us safe and so our children can grow up admiring the police, not fearing them. When our kids do do something wrong (because, let’s face it, kids if all races are naughty), they should be scared about the officer telling their parent, not be scared their going to be shot. They should be embarrassed they broke the law or caused problems, not feel like their skin color is a crime. 

For every priest, teacher, or police, that is doing good, I admire you. I know it is hard to weed out the bad ones, but it needs to be done. I know your workload is heavier then it should be, but your strength is what we need.  

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.