I no longer try to fit in

 

Mysteries have always fascinated me. Okay, if I go way back, first, it was the Ouija board. Followed by, horoscopes. Religion. Coincidence. Personality tests. Mixed in there somewhere was our relationships with food and nature. It feels like I am constantly peeling back layers. Even though I may stay in one spot for many days, I am on a path of constant discovery. Constant change. People fascinate me. They either say interesting things that make me think, or they say angry things without thought. The interesting ones, they either say things from a perspective I never would have thought of, or, they turn out to be a kindred spirit.

I’ve always felt like I was on a quest, but lately, new information has helped me in ways I never knew. First, a series of painful events happened. My husband had a stroke. One of our business partners embezzled from our company.  The Economy collapsed. Our insurance policy decided my husband’s stroke was a “pre-existing condition”. Some kids broke in to our house and robbed us. It seemed like we were getting kicked when we were down. We were broke, homeless, but not broken.

During this time of adversity, my best side came out. I was able to shed a lot of nonsense and focus on what was really important. Misfortune wasn’t done with me yet. At the same time I was experiencing excellent growth, I had two blows happen to me, that were so harsh, I didn’t think I was going to make it. Both of them had to do with jobs and betrayal. I knew I still had a long way to go. And maybe another harsh blow is right around the corner, again, who knows. That’s how it goes, life isn’t about having things always go your way, it’s about how you deal with it. Your toolbox. One of the things I touched on in my last blog, was how I am now learning to listen to my inner voice, more importantly, to TRUST my intuition. When you’re a child of a narcissistic abuser your ability to trust — especially yourself, is damaged. I searched a long time for a figure who would lead me down the right path. I love my husband to pieces but I was depending on him way too much. He had a stroke one year after we got married. Going “back” to work? My profession was in shambles. For one thing, I was a freelance artist. I had no work to go back to. I was never really employed at any one place for any length of time. All my former contacts, were tightening their budgets, or going into retirement. There wasn’t any work. There wasn’t any money. It seemed like there wasn’t any hope.

I decided to switch careers. While taking nurses training I worked at a few different places, at an office, or doing home health care. I knew I didn’t want to be a nurse. But not for the reasons most people think. I was hired at the school district office, by my “friend”. The best part of the job was that we all had to take what they called “Personality Training.” I found out I am an INFJ. I also learned, NEVER WORK FOR FRIENDS! lol. It’s like, all of these things are important, they help you deal with LIFE!

After that, I returned to painting. I am still convinced I can make a living with art. I believe anything is possible …

 

Myers-Briggs personality test: http://www.lifescript.com/well-being/articles/d/discover_your_true_self_with_the_myers-briggs_personality_test.aspx?utm_source=bing&utm_campaign=Connect+26+-+SEARCH&utm_content=0%3E10685%3EDiscover+Your+True+Self+With+The+Myers-Briggs+Personality+Test&utm_medium=cpc&utm_term=myers+%26+briggs+personality+test&ef_id=Vfm2zAAAAS2x-Blp:20160407015945:s

 

How Dreams Arrive

A warm and loving mother sings her baby into dreamland…

Parents are a child’s first support staff … but what if the child was taught the opposite, that they are here to be the parent’s support staff? Somewhere along the way, were you brainwashed to think you owed them a justification for your existence? That’s what having one or two narcissistic parents is like.

There’s the difference between blaming your parents, and then doing the work to reparent yourself. In my last few blogs, clearly I don’t pass around the blame. As people evolve they recognize the difference … and it is a difference. One is admitting, and being a bigger person. You’re not blaming your abusers, you’re recovering from them. And let’s face it, work is work! It took many years for you to become the person that you became. And how many years will it take to shatter that old model and rebuild the newer, better one that would have been fine if you had been given the right tools in the first place! What is it, YOUR fault?

Abusers and their supporters, like flying monkeys, like to gloss over this. They post memes like, “You can’t blame your parents for the way you turned out. You should move on with your life.” Well, guess what:

• You’re still telling me what to do.
• As an adult, who is recovering from a twisted and traumatic upbringing, nobody has a right to judge your path.
• If the abusive parent hasn’t changed or apologized, then what, exactly, are you moving on from?
• It’s still going on. Sure, you might be an adult chronologically. But the other “adult” is still not doing their job, and still not allowing (recognizing) you to become what you’re supposed to become.
• The skills and toolbox don’t magically appear with chronological age. They have to be created. -Out of thin air, with therapy, with spiritual growth.
• Healing from childhood trauma is not blaming the parent.
• Callous, broad statements do not have compassion. Compassion is key to healing.
• Nobody, not one person can comment on your journey.

Supportive people won’t make unsolicited critiques on your art, secretly read your journals, or “should” on you. Recognize these people … they are few and far between. We have to live in the present moment, right? But what if we are either in a toxic relationship in the present, or keep making mistakes in the present because of our faulty skills from the past? It’s ok to do emotional forensics. It’s part of the healing process. By doing the work, you’ll get there, you’ll get to a healthy present moment!

When we a dream, it has pursued you. It has showed up, like a lost dog. You don’t pursue a dream, you don’t pursue a lost dog. The dream comes to you, without control. The lost dog finds you. Then you live your life, with this dog. So if creativity has found you, nobody has the right to question that, just because it isn’t tangible or obvious to others, doesn’t make it any less real. And like a puppy, you have to nurture your creativity, and give it the training and unconditional love it deserves.

 

 

The Creative Recovery

The computer crashes. You restart it, it says, would you like to recover your files? I threaten to go back to my Macintosh, or even a word processor. They still sell typewriters in the Vermont Country Store catalog. I am so tempted.

For years I didn’t create much of my own art, and I said, it was too hard, while being a mom, having a family. Some people can balance it. I couldn’t … or could I? After my son was older, I returned to fulfill my creative urges … but I was so rusty!!! What helped, were not only community education classes, which were inexpensive, and an artists retreat, which was expensive. There is a whole economy built on people pursuing their dreams. It’s a real cash cow.

I am in the process of recovering my creative self.

What was keeping me back was more insidious than a lack of time management skills, it was actually the demands that were brainwashed in to me during my formative years. The harpies cry that drew the sailing ships to crash in to the rocks. Mine were voices telling me that I was not allowed to take time for “myself”. Despite all the evidence that there’s nothing wrong with devoting myself to an art career, my dreams kept being choked … so that my creative urges only came out in drops. A trickle here and there …

I had to fight and claw my way out from underneath the naysayers who were telling me in one way or another HOW to spend my time. They don’t come out and say it directly, they say it in so many words. Mine came from my family. They were jealous and unsupportive. They believed I should be spending my time on THEIR needs, wants, demands, hobbies and interests, that mine were absolutely foolish. Since this kind of brainwashing started happening in my formative years, in adolescence, my toolbox was built badly in the beginning. I could only escape the grip of these voices, trying to guilt me, by drinking them away. Then, I would try to create art, while intoxicated, which didn’t really work, no matter how hard I tried to make it work. Let me tell you a secret. Not all the artists and writers who have a reputation for being big drinkers, are really drinking that much while they’re working. I want to think that they’re creating a mythical persona. I drank because I had to shut off the voices that told me I had no right to spend my time painting or writing. That I should be selling MLM schemes, that I should be helping them with their projects around their houses, that I was put on earth as some type of servant, a cook, a cleaner. I mean, as much as women’s rights have come along, let’s face it. If women don’t do the majority of the things around the house, they will not get done. I have actually watched my husband make himself a sandwich and not offer to make one for me. That is one of the most heartbreaking things to see. And if I say anything he will feel hurt, or he’ll shrug as if it is nothing. While here I am, I wouldn’t dream of just making MYSELF a sandwich while other people are within my sight. Then take the one sandwich and put all the ingredients back in to the refrigerator without saying a word. I mean, AMIRIGHT? This borders on codependency, but I’m not going there. And the sad part is that my husband IS supportive and he’s not one of the narcissists!!!

I’m rebuilding my toolbox, that was made by a dumb adolescent with no skills.

I started drinking when I was 15 after my mom died. IT FELT FANTASTIC. For once. I kept it well hidden, except from my closest drinking buddies.

I managed to graduate high school — with terrible grades — I recovered to a 4.0 GPA at the community college, in an unusual dry spell, and I found myself in a semi-serious relationship with a high-functioning alcoholic. I decided I didn’t want to either be an alcoholic, or get stuck in a relationship with one. I dated a couple more of them, still, I kept attracting addicts!

Why was I always bailing people out? Here I was, on my own sinking ship, and people were clinging on to me as if I were a life raft. And if I pushed them away, they would find a way to get back at me. This was my love life…  I know, I take ownership, it’s still not their fault. I knew that I had to be the change. In the spaces of sobriety everything became so astoundingly clear! The voices of guilt, and shame, came flooding into my space, they hadn’t left, they’d only been on mute.

Next blog: as if your life depends on it.

 

 

 

 

Let your free range talent out of the cage

A transitional blog

Hopefully this chicken isn’t so in love with itself that it’s staring at its reflection. Because it doesn’t need to, she knows I love her unconditionally!

Last year I published two children’s books. The first one I wrote and illustrated. The second, I illustrated for a friend of mine. I spent 5 months on that endeavor. I’ve attempted many times to write about that experience but each time I do it doesn’t capture it well enough.

My reasons for making children’s books, in hindsight, was misguided. As I mentioned in my last blog, I am a survivor of narcissistic trauma and abuse. Many, not all, of my road blocks are self-imposed. My creativity comes out like it is in a cage. It is a performer. It has to have a reason to exist. I don’t let it be free range. I give to all my animals and children and even my husband what I never had or gave myself permission to do: be free range. That doesn’t mean I don’t keep them all safe. No. The birds are looked after by a dog, the children grew up without incident, the husband has no complaints.

First of all, it was my grandmothers who planted the seed in my mind to make children’s books. Which is all fine and good. But they didn’t know what they were talking about. And what I mean is, it is more complicated than that.

My mom was a good woman. She was like me: a loving, compassionate, empath, and very supportive of all our childhood dreams. I was not always like her. I thought she didn’t stand up for herself enough, and she lacked confidence. I don’t want to be a door mat like she was. I watched her let herself get treated like a doormat, and I thought, not me! I will be nice, but I will have a point, where I won’t be so nice. People who have crossed this line don’t think I am as nice or good as my mom. You know what I have to say to that?  I am super nice, but if you cross me, I am not just going to sit there and take it like she did. That was her MISTAKE. It wasn’t a noble trait. It was a lie. She stuffed it all inside. In 1980 she was diagnosed with late stage breast cancer. By 1983 she was dead. People sometimes wonder why I turned out the way I did, but they’ll never have the courage to ask. And they don’t have the compassion to understand early mother loss. And so I blog. In case those chickens ever want to know the real truth. It isn’t the fiction narcissists have spread.

I have a degree in art, and worked as a commercial artist for many years, but felt unable to do any of my own art. My first excuse was my son. I was so tied up in the business of being a mom that I NEVER ALLOWED myself to take any time to make art.

When my son was in high school I took a creative writing class through community ed. Our lives were suddenly in upheaval during the economic collapse around 2009. Then my husband had a stroke. We were living in a bungalow next to a mortuary, I was working at an apple orchard, and I said, I have to DO SOMETHING different. I liked to write, but I was terrible. So I took a class. I loved it! It was a great class. The teacher was so inspiring. My creativity flowed. My writing improved. I had not been much of a writer, so I was a novice at 40 years old.

My husband kept encouraging me to paint, because art was an area where I excelled. I was happy with all my artistic creations. He didn’t understand then, if my writing was so substandard, why I would rather write than draw. I can’t explain it, either. Could it have something to do with my upbringing? Would I have to battle my demons before I can have a successful writing or art career?

And of course, that begs the question, is it even POSSIBLE in these times to have a writing or art career? Or was it all just a waste of time?

I couldn’t accept that it was a waste of time. I kept writing. I submitted an essay to a contest. I didn’t win the contest but the essay was included in the anthem. I was pretty excited about that. We moved out to the country, built a chicken coop, I converted an attic room into an art studio, then, stared into the vastness of it all.

Frustration for me was, that when I was 30 years old I had done the Artist’s Way workbook. I recommend this HIGHLY to anyone who feels stuck, or blocked as an artist, anyone who wants an artistic career. I loved it so much, it did change my life, for a while. But as I said in my earlier blog, the demons are sneaky. They act like they went away. But they didn’t. They changed forms. They changed into something else.

I tried counseling. I have yet to meet a good therapist. I saw two different ones. The first, was pushing me to get a divorce. To her, my problems were my husband’s fault.  I saw a different therapist. He was strange. It was like he was repeating word for word what he read out of a textbook. I hear that some people have great counselors, so I am not bashing them. If you find a good counselor, be grateful!

After I quit counseling, I joined online groups and that is how I discovered the Narcissistic Abuse Survivors. I knew what a narcissist was, by textbook definition. But I learned so much more. I found out that there were people who were going “no contact” with the narcissists in their lives. The abuser will convince you that this is not even an option. To hear that it is actually an option, is eye-opening.

While my grandmothers are no longer among us, I do have a couple narcissists left in my life. I also recognized a couple of so-called friends for who and what they really are, and I have gotten them out of my life. And, my favorite social group are my chosen family.

I don’t know if I’m entirely ready to go no contact with my biggest narcissist, however, even though, he is a huge emotional vampire. I have to be careful not to assign blame. But this is just an explanation of HOW the demons influenced my creative life and process, how I have to get out from under it, and it is all what I see now in hindsight.

I believe the narcissistic abuse, and any form of abuse, changes the way your brain works.  There are many pieces and parts involved in the complex recipe of “Success”. I started studying success in my 30’s. There are many different interpretations, because there is an American idea of success, there is an Eastern idea of success, and many other ideas of success, so what is it you think of as success? For me, right now, would be to become a stronger person who is impervious to bullies and psychic vampires. So if they are directing their rays of negativity in my direction, it bounces off. That’s step one, anyway. I’m still a work in progress. Will I ever move past the novice stage?

I will address that in my next blog.