Tag: self awareness

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.

We don’t talk about money. Be poor privately please.

Why are the poor poor? Not how did they become poor, but why are they still poor. Have you ever ask yourself that? If you are, or have been, you know why.

Based on the posts I see on social media, the reason is, because that person is either: lazy, entitled, or makes poor choices. Are there lazy and entitled people? Sure there are. But I guarantee 99% of poor people work 10 times as hard as a financially stable person. Their life depends on it. And there are a lot of people that make poor choices, I being one of them. But unless your poor choice is gambling away your family savings or working for the mob, most poor people’s bad choices are buying a pair of jeans or going out for drinks. Not quite what I would consider worthy of a lifetime struggle to provide for your family.

Why am I bringing this up? Because I’m a poor person trying very hard to obtain what others tell me I could get if I just worked harder. I’m trying reach that goal you told me I’m not entitled to, that I have to work for. What is that goal? To have a place to live of my own and to be able to feed my children and pay my bills without worry or anxiety.

I receive SNAP. Because I’m below the poverty line. Does that make you uncomfortable? If you don’t know me I’m sure it doesn’t. If you know me personally I’m sure you feel quite uncomfortable knowing that about me. I once had a family member harass me on a Facebook post. He was convinced that the reason I am struggling HAS TO BE because I deserve it. I’m an entitled millennial who wants everything handed to me. I deleted him off my Facebook and had myself a good cry. Where has he been the last 10 years? I am not a quiet person. I do not bottle things inside. I am very honest and open about the good and the bad in my life. Why is my struggle making him so angry? It’s my struggle. I’m not angry. I love sharing my struggle so that others can know and feel hopeful. He was legitimately angry. Zero compassion.

Then someone said something to me that put it in perspective. “Of course he is angry. And of course he is blaming you. Because if he admits you’ve done everything you were supposed to and you are a good person, and are still suffering, then he would have to also admit that he stood by as you suffered for years and never offered you a hand of help.”

Holy crap. I used to always wonder why we didn’t talk about money. From a young age it was instilled in me that you never ask how much someone makes. And you don’t talk about how much you make. I remember asking, why we can’t talk about it. I was told it was because people that don’t make as much might get jealous and angry. It was to protect those who deserve their income from people who didn’t deserve it and wanted it.

Poor people don’t care if you know how much they make. I’ve had perfect strangers mention how much their check was in casual conversation. Poor people are not uncomfortable with talking about money. Whatevs. I’m broke but I needed some Chipotle. See, every single thing we do revolves around money. Like, if I buy the good toilet paper, will I have the gas to get my kids to school? Which bill can I be late on so I can replace my kids ripped school pants? We’re not handling our money with our sights set on vacation spots or the best investments. We’re trying to find a way to make sure we don’t have to eat peanut butter and jelly or cereal for dinner for the next week.

You know what would save me a lot of money? Being able to buy a house. My entire life has been at a standstill for the last year because the house I live in is unlivable. If I move my rent will be double to triple what it is now. It is not possible.

Poor people can’t buy houses. Not because they can’t afford them. Because the system is set up in a way to keep them poor.

I do not have a great credit score. To even have a chance at obtaining a mortgage I need 10% down. So let’s say I work for that goal. The houses in my area that I would be ideal for my family are about $150,000. But I don’t need ideal. I’m sure if I looked around and waited I could find something that makes do for about $100,000. So I need $10,000 to buy a house. With my current income I know I could save $100 a month. So that means in 8 years I could buy a house. If I lived extra poor I could probably save $200 a month. Then I could buy a house in 4 years. Do you see the problem? That means I still have to live in this shithole house with my four children until they are raised.

Let’s say, for argument’s sake, that I can save $500 a month. That’s only a year and a half. Buuuuuut. I receive Food Stamps. About $500 a month. And the second my assets exceed $2,250, I do not qualify anymore. So 5 months in, I wouldn’t be able to afford to save anymore. (2 years into my 8, 1 year onto my 4).

Why are the poor poor? Because unless someone steps in and knocks down the societal hurdles, we don’t have a choice. Why do poor people buy lottery tickets? Because there’s a better chance of winning the money to help pull them out of poverty than there is to do it by hard work. Why do the poor buy cups of coffee and get tattoos instead of saving? Because what’s the point? Do you have any idea how helpless that feeling is? Then you feel guilty and ashamed when judgmental eyes look at your $50 tattoo and tell you that THAT is the reason you and your children deserve to suffer. You feel like you need to justify the $10 Goodwill Coach purse you carry because others see it and believe you’re exaggerating your circumstance. You’re either lying, or deserve it.

The rich want to believe that the poor are poor because they deserve it. Because if they acknowledged what it really is, they also have to admit that they’re okay with thriving while others are unfairly suffering. And that makes them uncomfortable. So it’s easier to just blame.

I am poor. My kids play sports, go to a private school, have new clothes and shoes at the beginning of the school year, and none of it was provided by me. Because I have people in my life that saw the value of my children and said, “I want to help”. My eyes swell up with tears when I think about what I would do if I didn’t have kind people in my life. Because I know you’re out there. All you that are suffering without a support system. I want to help you so bad. I want somebody to help you. I feel your pain, I feel your anxiety. I am so sorry we live in a country where you are demonized and told you deserve to suffer. You do not deserve to suffer. Your kids do not deserve to suffer. You deserve so mich better than this.

Why are the poor poor? If you are not poor, you need to be okay with being uncomfortable and do something. You need to stop blaming and start asking how you can help. Perpetual poverty happens when you can’t afford the necessities. Do you feel the Necessities in life a privilege or a right? Do you believe that someone’s financial circumstance equates their worth? Your complacency is hurting people.

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. 

I’m a 31 Year Old Toddler

Today, my mind keeps wandering. Usually when I sit down to write out a blog, it’s because of an occurrence that sparked my mind to come to some sort of epiphany type moment. Not today. Today I keep thinking about something I have already written about. So I reread a blog post I wrote a long time ago.

http://wp.me/p4Wgjj-H

I knew after my dad died a part of me died too. I knew it would be traumatic. I knew I would have to watch each family member of mine deal with the old them die away. I knew, with the amount of disfunction in my family, that there would be lashing out, mistakes made, comfort given, frustrations voiced, and tears shed. For over a year now, I have watched every person I love go through the emotional “rehab” that comes after a life altering occurrence. Some of them have watched parts of themselves die before. They are usually more self aware of what’s happening. Some have never experienced loss like this, and are new to it. But no matter which they are, they died that day too.

Self awareness. I mention this a lot. To me, being self aware is one of the most important parts of humanity. To look at a reoccurring problem and be able to just KNOW why you react that way, or what your limits are, is the only way to grow. I am self aware. I become bitter easily. I care what people think of me. I have image issues with my appearance. I play mental games with myself when I know I should/shouldn’t do something to try to justify doing what I want, and then regret it. I know me. Well, I know the old me. Still learning the new me.

It’s a helpless feeling. To watch those close to you struggle to learn themselves again, and know there’s nothing you can do to help, because you are going through it too. I feel like we’re a family of toddlers. Stumbling around, trying to learn how to walk and talk. Have you ever seen how different, yet the same toddlers are? Some go off by themselves to cry when they get frustrated, some throw a screaming fit at the grocery store. Some wait for guidance when they don’t know how to do something, some scream “I do it!” and end up making it worse. But they all have something in common. They can see what they need/want, but haven’t quite mastered their ability to communicate it. They have no control of their emotions and don’t know convay what they’re feeling, which makes them overreact and look quite irrational.

So how do we get through this toddler stage? With love and patience, boundaries, and if need be, a swat on the bottom.

This last summer, I was that kid that who decided to sneak into the candy and then started running in circles all over the place. And guess what, I slammed right into a wall. It hurt. I cried…a lot. Thankfully, I had people in my life to help wipe the tears as I calmed myself down. (To clarify for those not in my personal life, I went out a lot and became pregnant, unplanned). So now I’m in timeout. Nobody to blame but myself. Life said, you need to calm down and I protested that “it’s not fair!”.

As I grow out of the toddler stage of this Beth, I feel relief. I watch my family members, and know they will too. I can’t predict or stop their tantrums, meltdowns, or confusion. It’s just going to happen. All I can do is wipe their tears when life puts them in timeout, and let them learn their new limits and abilities on their own. Do you know what the best part of going through a “toddler stage” is? The next stage is the magical stage. Watch a 3-4 year old. Everything is exciting, new, and magical. Princesses and superheroes. Overwhelming joy over bubbles. Feeling proud of your coloring skills. Excitement over new friends. I am so ready for that stage.

Teaching My Kids to Acknowledge Struggle

Yesterday, my kids and I had a conversation about my parenting. My teenage brother was watching them, and he was stressed out and started yelling and being, well, a teenager. They were very upset about it and my middle daughter explained, in great detail, everything that was said and done. I listened and thought while she spoke, about how to respond.

I’m going to paraphrase, but I said something along the lines of, “It is not ok for him to raise his voice to you. Or use cuss words. And I’m glad you told me about it. We all struggle with stuff. You know what his struggle in life is going to be? His temper and his self control. Is he a mean guy? No. Does he hate you guys? No. He just doesn’t know what to do when he feels out of control with stuff. This is something he is going to HAVE TO learn. Because you know what’s going to happen if he doesn’t? He’s going to end up losing friendships, or relationships. Or even worse, he could end up actually hurting someone or going to jail. But you know what? That’s not your problem. He is not your problem. Those are HIS problems. Your job is to keep yourself safe and to make sure he knows that’s not ok to be like around you. Walk away and tell a grown up. Don’t yell back, don’t try to explain yourself to him. Leave and let him sit in his own anger. He doesn’t get to blame you for his loss of self control. We are only in control of ourselves.”

During this conversation, each kid piped in with questions and thoughts. “What if we walk away, but he follows us and keeps yelling?” Then, tell him that YOU need a min to calm down. Keep it about yourself. “I get angry too. Sometimes I just can’t control it and I yell and stuff.” So, you understand that it doesn’t mean you hate that person, or that you’re a mean person. What do you think after you yell at someone? “I feel really bad for hurting their feelings. And I get embarrassed and worried they hate me.”  So, maybe you should go tell them sorry? That it wasn’t their fault you lost your temper? Don’t you think they would be happy to know that you realize you were wrong and care about them? It’s the same with my brother. I guarantee he feels bad for making you cry. Maybe you should tell him you forgive him. Tell him you know it’s hard to control emotions, and you know he’s trying too. That could make him feel like he’s not hated. And encourage him to keep working on it. Sometimes we don’t think people notice we’re struggling or trying. Let him know you notice.

Then I said, “Can I tell you guys a secret? Parents, we have no idea what we’re doing. We think we know, and then they hand you this brand new, beautiful baby, and you realize, uh oh….I have no clue what to do. We’re all just figuring it out as we go. There will be things that you hate about my parenting. You will grow up and say. ‘I will never do “this” with my kids.’ And then there will be other things that you love, and will say, ‘I am so glad my mom did “this” with me.” I do it. Everyone does. I try really hard to look at you guys and make decisions that will help you know yourself and to help you get through things that you’re going to struggle with.”

They all reassured me that I was the best mom in the world and that they love me. I smiled told them I loved them more than anything. I would love to have that moment froze in time. I know their admiration for me will fade in the next few years as we enter into the teenager phase. That’s what I wanted to say. That really, I feel like I’m just working on the preparations for the years I’m the “worst mom in the world”. That I am hoping to give them enough tools and self awareness, that as the enter the years of feeling alone and misunderstood, they still have parts of themselves established enough to make it through.

Self awareness. That’s what I want for them. I am very self aware. Have been for most my life. I was never completely delusional about life. Even as a teenager, I remember thinking, “Man I love peer pressure. I am such a sucker for it.” I even knew why I liked it. It was because I felt like not knowing what was expected of me gave me anxiety. Peer pressure was straight up telling me what was expected. I was not stupid. Most the time, I didn’t have to be manipulated by my peers. I could see right through their intentions.

I think about how many oblivious adults there are. Absolutely no self awareness or self responsibility. No intention of finding solutions for their struggles. They just accept it as part of themselves, and expect others to just deal with it. No growth. And they’re raising children with the same mentality. I am not. I want my kids to enter adulthood KNOWING they have to work for the rest of their lives adapting and growing. They need to make choices on who they want to be, and accept it is in their control, no one else’s. I also want them to know that not everyone will do this, and that’s not their problem. They can, and should, walk away from situations that don’t help them grow as a person. That the “this is how I am, accept it” is a lie. We don’t have to accept it. That a broken person who is trying, is worth investing in, but a person content in their toxic nature should be avoided at all costs.

Will this lesson last into adulthood? I have no idea. Because, they are their own person. With their own thoughts, feelings, ideas, and experiences. This is where I have to take my own advice and realize that I don’t have control. No amount of guilt, manipulation, or lecturing will make this resonate with them. The only thing I can do is keep asking them questions, and listen to and answer their’s. Hopefully, I am growing strong minds which will learn to come to their own conclusions.

I feel like I should set an alarm to go off in 10 years for me to reread this post. Because, I know 41 year old Beth will have wisdom and growth I’m lacking now. I would love to hear her thoughts on all this. But, wisdom can’t just be learned through being told, so it wouldn’t matter anyways. Wisdom is something you just have to let develop with time.