Mixed bag

Every time I think I am getting comfortable with how my world is I come across something that shows me I’m not. This time it was a very small feather in a card from my Mom that I had tucked away. She does love me to the extent that she is capable of. I adore feathers, I have been know as the feather slut to my friends. My only tattoo is feathers. They have been a consent love throughout my life. That she took the time to save this small feather and send it to me meant a lot. It gets me thinking about writing to her at least. But then, do I really want to. I can’t tell. I can tell I no longer want contact with my step father. I really just don’t and I don’t think that is out of line. Not to me or the others around me.

My therapist brought up the fact that possibly my mother suffers from her own mental illness. I was amazed to say the least. Not sure why, but I had never even considered that. Was it my own blindness that kept me from that realization? Possibly, my mate looked and me and said “Ya, you didn’t know?” Really so one of those things I was the only one who didn’t know. I guess it has to do with the whole looking at my mother as a person not just my mother. I know if friends treated me the way she has I won’t stick around for more. In fact I have cut a friend loose and that hurts almost as much.

Narcissists love to point out your flaws. I have been doing a fair amount of research on Narcissist parents, what an eye opener. I have sat on this post for almost 2 months as I try to digest all the information and the possibility that is what is wrong with my mother. This is still such a new concept to me that it is very hard to get mind wrapped around it. I m sure once I come to a better understanding I’ll have more to post.

This post was written a year ago. It still holds truth.


I have neglected my writing for almost a year. The things I had to say were too angry and filled with bitterness. I am trying to move away from that and live in the love I have in my life. I have come to realize that I do still need to express the anger to more fully let go of it. Having said that this post is not about that, I will post more later. Today I want to talk about shoes.

I went to a concert last month with a friend. It was raining and cold in the city which is pretty normal for this time of year. As we walking to find someplace to have dinner I noticed a homeless man curled up in a doorway. He wasn’t begging or asking for anything. He was trying to sleep. I noticed he had no shoes and his socks had huge holes in them. He did have a small bag of belongings with him. We had our dinner and passed by this man again. Still shivering with no shoes. We enjoyed our concert and when we came out he was gone. I had been thinking of him and wondering how I could help him.

It has been a couple of weeks and I find my thoughts returning to this man and his plight. Not sure why this has hit so hard, but it has. Then tonight a story on the news a young man bought a homeless woman some food at a chain in the city. They would not allow her inside to eat, because she had no shoes. She was cold and soaking wet, but because she had no shoes they would not admit her inside. I know I’m not the only one this is speaking to. Now I need to figure out what to do about it.

With all that is amok in this world shoes have got my attention. Rather strange I guess but there it is. So, I guess I need to start seeing how I can help.

May 18, 2015

We just made it through Mothers’ Day and now it will be my mother’s birthday in 2 days. Seems like this time of year is just hard. It was always my favorite time of year. I love spring and the flowers blooming, sunshine and warmer weather. This time of year is the best. Maybe it helps to deal because I have sunshine to balance out the gloomy feelings? Do I send a card or not? I haven’t for almost two years. Do I even want to open that door a crack? What is the worst thing that could happen? She might take it as a sign I want to talk? Do I, no it is too raw to think about talking.

Just getting started, a little bit about me

.”Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, ‘I will try again tomorrow.’ ” – Mary Anne Radmacher

This has been one of my favorite quotes for many years. It says much of how I have lived my life. Always trying to do better. Who was I trying to please? This is a place for me to express myself and share some of my journey to becoming whole. A little of who I am. A 60 year old woman, wife, mother, grandmother, daughter, new sister and friend. I retired from the USAF and Air National Guard after 26 years. Worked in non-traditional roles and helped open a few doors. This is just my first dip in the pond, I hope by reading what I have written it may help someone else who is struggling with similar issues. But for now this is all.

I found this in my drafts, I thought I had published it. Sigh…

So here it is now as a little bit about me. I was abused both sexually and verbally with the occasional beating for good measure. I don’t share my blog on FaceBook. It is too painful and personnel. I don’t think it belongs there. I am open to sharing with people to help them on their way, but I like to try to keep FB as social and who wants to read this there? Not me anyway.  I did share a post about a teen who committed suicide after public shaming, it struck a cord with me. The cut hair is what did it. You see I ran away from my abusive home. Several times. After the first time my beautiful waist length hair was cut off so “I wouldn’t look like every other little tramp on the street.” I was offered a choice at the time, but I recognized it wasn’t really a choice at all, that was what was expected of me. I hated it so much. I was 15 at the time. I really don’t ave any contact with people from that time in my life. I even changed my name. When asked about it (name change) I reply Debbie died. I was 19 when a friend looked me in the eye and asked me what I wanted to be called. Major wake up for me. I was so surpired that someone would ask me what I wanted and mean it.


Indecision it plagues the best of us from time to time. I think it is even worse for those of us who are estranged from all or part of our families. I know it plagues me to no end. You can see it throughout my writing. As I look back through my life it has always been a sticking point for me. First while trying to break the cycle of abuse, to later trying to figure out “Is this normal?”  I used to tell a friend of mine she was my normal stick, because mine was broken. Turns out many people’s are and I think that leads us to being indecisive. What if I’m wrong? What if the way I’m looking at things is warped? So many what ifs, but you know what? Everyone has them. It is important to look at things from all sides when you are able to; but, it is also important to not allow it to disable you. I feel I’m starting to wander off point a bit, but so many well meaning people add to our indecision with comments like “But she’s your ____.” or “Its family you have to forgive them.” “They are the only _____ you will ever get.”

Those comments not only hurt us they heap on the indecision if you aren’t careful. This is a very hard journey at times, don’t let other people; no matter how well intentioned they may be add to your struggles. It is ok to be unsure, or to stand fast as your journey takes you. Be kind to yourself and take care.



Being new to this I couldn’t share the above post. Must have hit the wrong button or something, so I posted the link above. This post hit a few spots for me and I wanted to share.

Mother’s Day is now passed and I didn’t contact mine. While I still feel guilty for not, I also feel a sense of relief. I can’t help but compare how I’d feel in her shoes to how I feel. Not that I would have made the choices she has. I think by now in my life, I know that without a doubt. I would have reacted differently. I feel a sense of loss all the same. Maybe that will never heal, but I am hopeful that it will. I hope that the love around me will help with that healing. I know I am deserving of that love and am seeking to convince my heart of the same.

I no longer wish to engage in self destructive behaviours. I am in counseling to help with that. To help the heart learn and believe what the brain knows. For me that has been a lifelong struggle. I asked when do I get to move on without dragging my past along with me. Stuff happens shouldn’t we be able to move on? I want to be free. I will work towards that end.

The next hurdle is my mother’s birthday, it is just one week away. I get to go through all the same stuff again. Why do I feel such a sense of terror at the thought of contact with her? I have tried to answer that question many times. She can not harm me, but she can still push my buttons. Yes, I am working on that. I don’t know what scares me most the thought that she will answer or that she may refuse to even talk to me. While I choose to not have contact it is my choice and I feel in control. If she is in control have I lost control of the situation? Small steps towards reconciliation was brought up and my first reaction was NO! Is that my final answer? Do I really not want to ever see my mother again? I can’t answer that right now. I am still to fragile to consider it. I guess that will be subject to change as I go through this process.

Other people although well meaning are quick to say “but it is Your Mother and you only get one.” You HAVE to have contact, you must forgive, you must respect and so on. While I know they think they know best, they simply do not. I wish that for just one moment they would stop and consider that not all of us have had the same experiences in life. Some mothers are not deserving of love and respect simply because they gave birth to us. Some mothers made really bad choices, then refused to talk about them when confronted. Some lied. Some beat us and let abuse continue even when they knew about it. I still have so much anger to work through right now. The lies and not wanting to even talk about it hurt the worst I think. Starting to sound like a broken record so that’s all for now.