It's been awhile

I have been on a fairly long but totally necessary hiatus from blogging. 

There’s been too much going on to keep up, and my own personal life has needed to come off of the backburner for a bit. For many years, too often, I put my own needs aside for the sake of helping others or getting my own work done. 

It became too much. 

Something had to give. 

And well….It did. I stepped away from the keyboard, for the most part, and I have been focusing on things that matter more than any website: My family. My kids. Therapy. Healing. And a surprising diagnosis….More about that later, though. 

Family, in particular. I cry every single day over my family, or lack thereof. 

Many people come from normal, loving families, where kids grow up knowing their Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, Grandparents, etc. My family? Well…..Let’s just say it’s complicated, it’s messy, and it’s not at all the way I’d have chosen to be raised….I wouldn’t have chosen for my own kids to literally know nobody….But here we are, and it’s very hard to deal with. 

I have been going to therapy for years now, trying to identify and heal some deep pain that stems from childhood and beyond. The root of everything goes back to childhood, though, and the fact that those who were supposed to love and protect me failed me on basically every level. 

Whether it’s due to the toxicity that comes with decades of substance abuse and addiction, lack of love in general, or there’s just too much hurt, collectively, to heal it….My family is a mess. I have always internalized the dysfunction and convinced myself it was all MY fault….Even as a child, I blamed myself for the love I never received. 

If only I got better grades, maybe they’d love me….
I was an Honor Roll student, in GT and AP classes. I won the Presidential Academic Fitness Award. 
The love never came. 

If only I were more talented, maybe they’d love me….
I wrote poetry, stories, and songs. 
I enjoyed being in many musicals, some with large parts. 
Not only did they not show up, the love never came. 

If only I were better, maybe they’d put the bottle down…Maybe the pills would disappear…Maybe they’d care. 
The pills never left, and every day was soaked in booze and hateful words. 
The love never came. 

I thought that once I had my own kids, surely things would be different then….Surely, they’d see all they’re missing out on….
3 kids and 22 years later….
They do not know my children, all of whom are amazing humans. 
They’re growing up without family.
The love never came. 

And finally, thanks to my very patient therapist and countless hours of dissecting and unpacking things….I finally realize none of it….NONE OF IT….Was my fault. 
I was a child. I was never responsible for the choices of broken adults whose duty it was to do better. 
When I was told I shouldn’t exist? That I should have been an abortion or a blowjob? That wasn’t MY fault. It had nothing to do with me at all….And yet, I have carried that hurt my whole life, just wanting to finally be good enough….To finally have the family life that “normal” people have. 

But the love never came…..So I had to stop hoping for things that would never change, missing people who don’t miss us, and I had to create the love and happiness that was missing, all on my own….For the sake of my kids. 

It’s been hard. It’s been a painful process, this healing stuff. It’s taken my full time and attention to dissect my inner-most thoughts and feelings, break generational curses, and carefully, lovingly, gently place my broken pieces  back together after mending wounds that are decades deep. 

And my kids will NEVER feel the way I did growing up. They will NEVER question their own worth, or whether or not they even deserve to be loved. They will grow up knowing love….Love from parents….Love from siblings….And they will know how to properly love themselves.

So far, so good. 

So that’s where I have been. It’s been a lot to unpack, and it’s been hard, to say the least. Healing isn’t easy. And I am an introvert, so I do quite a bit on my own. I won’t lie, healing almost broke me. For a while, I was NOT doing okay at all….

But I’m still here. I’m still trying. I’m still healing. 

And I think it’s time I started writing again. It does my soul good.