I’ll Leave before I give you a chance to leave me again……

I’ve always been a huge defender and believer of the Truth. It may be painful, ugly , or beautiful and warm. The Truth has many versions, and I think that’s what humans mess up on so often. My truth and your truth about the same event will probably be quite different from one another. Neither is lying or attempting to deceive , but , the differences can be enormous.

Truth is so much perception. Can any of us truly know what the other is actually feeling and thinking ? I think in rare cases that happens. I think the majority of people tell how they felt at that moment and it evolves. Our truth compounds with the reactions of others and our own deep seeded fears and regrets.

This statement can be read two very different ways. The first being that someone is predictable or steadfast. The second , that the person holds no value in their word or actions.

It’s interesting to see where each of us falls on this line and if it’s even consistent. If may be that there is one thing they are ashamed of and their truth waffles a lot on what they believe happened. It may feel too unsafe to speak it. Or , they may think no one believes them.

That brings us to trust. Do you trust someone with your heart and soul? Would you allow them to enter the darker parts of your mind and feel confident they wouldn’t run as fast as possible? I think it’s a different type of trust than say a surgeon or lawyer. Personally, I trust very few with everything. This life has taught me that people are going to choose what’s best for themselves over actual events.

I scoff when people are wronged yet cling to the phrase ” The truth always comes to light “. Because, it simply doesn’t. It can be uncomfortable, frightening, too painful, or even inconvenient to know what Truly happened.

So I ask you this … is your truth a lie because of perception? Can their be multiple truths to the exact same event ? I think so. What someone meant to convey may be interpreted a thousand different ways. That’s the rub. We develop our version of truth from our experiences. And , we share millions of experiences throughout our life. They shape our thoughts of self , the world, fairness and grief.

One of my often used words is abandonment. I see it nearly everywhere and no longer am shocked by it. Like it or not , my worth is more commonly than not carved by the why , how , and when I’m abandoned. I’ll try to make myself small and invisible. I’ll be as quiet as possible. No need to call anyone out on it. That would be a waste of effort. People simply are who they are and their promises are like blowing on a dandelion. By the way , I still close my eyes and wish when I’m holding one.

I promised myself many decades ago that nothing would ever hurt me like that did and it hasn’t. As I’ve grown older, I forgive much more freely. I expect nothing. And , I silently watch people I love drift away. I will not fight to have someone stay or love me.

It’s interesting to note that my feelings of not being enough are the root of it. How or why would I try to convince you I’m enough to love when I don’t love myself? Just another self fulfilling prophecy or the type of people I’m drawn to ? It’s a mixture I’m sure.

I’m an old soul that’s very tired of the hurt , chaos and events that occur in our lives. I dream of a world where people are completely genuine. No rose colored glasses are allowed.

I haven’t found the Old Soul support group yet and I doubt I will. ” There isn’t a perfect life Wyatt , just life.” I seek no perfection, only kindness and loyalty. More times than not , it’s the little things people do that matter much more than the flashy. Those little things can both fill or empty your heart.

I Rescued a kitten and it triggered me ….

We recently got a kitten from someone that showed her on FB. She’s beautiful and we adore her. But , all the words triggered all the adoption crap. “Saving, Rescuing, Adopting ” all tasted like salt to my mouth.

I thought about the kitty’s mom. I thought she was going through trauma. I felt like a bad person because I took her.

Words have such power. And , adoption trauma affects every aspect of my life. I searched for other words to announce her to my friends. I think I settled with “got”. The rest seemed so wrong. They were the words and fairytale people believe about human adoption, or as I know it , human trafficking.

This meme made me think of all of my Sisters that feel they are the second choice. That they are supposed to live a life of gratitude for being ” saved “. This may seem strange to many but adoption does that to me. In Adoptionland we live a life of loss , myths, lies , abandonment and grief. I worried that sweet baby Bell would feel abandoned. I also thought how pets stay with their mothers for 6-8 weeks until they are separated. Humans get a day.

This is Tinkerbelle Rachel , and she’s precious. She’s been a joy while dealing with my mom in hospice. But , I feel like I did something wrong. She was abandoned or maybe her mama got hurt. I wondered if she was looking for her.

This my friends is inside the thoughts of a person with PTSD, Anxiety and Major Depression. Not pretty. But, completely honest. The woulda, coulda, shouldas never stop.

Recycle love ? What does that even mean? I’m working so hard on changing my thoughts but it is hard. I don’t know if I’m even capable of thinking differently because I know the truth about human adoption, selling babies.

I’ve ” rescued ” ( ick ) many pets and love them dearly. We should not go to breeding mills because that’s wrong.

The parallels are all there. Adopt from foster care if you must adopt. How do pets feel about their name being changed so many times ? Do they fear that they will be discarded again?

Friends, adoption changes you. It makes one see things so differently than others. Am I damaged? Absolutely. Just wanted you to have a glimpse in the mind of the residents of Adoptionland.

Forever Goodbyes Are All I’ve Known…..

My mom was in the hospital all weekend. The time for her to leave has come and I’m doing this with anything, but grace. I’m struggling, drowning, sobbing, and falling apart.

I’m horrible with goodbyes. Ever since I lost my first daughter to adoption, goodbyes terrify me. When my raised children were going on visitation with their dad , if they were going to camp or to explore the world like my raised daughter, I fall apart. The trauma of losing my daughter has distorted my sense of safety.

People don’t come back. You don’t get what you lost and there is NO do over. It is what it is and I’m horrible at grief. I think because of c-ptsd , I process everything at its worst.

I’m grateful for both myself and my mom I forgave her. That was a gift to both of us. But, losing her now is destroying me. Just another person I love leaving. Abandonment is in every part of me.

Loss is so hard to explain because it covers so much of my life. I lost myself so long ago , that it physically hurts to lose someone.

My Aimovig isn’t helping this week. Worst migraine of my life. No amount of anything is a balm. I have a million things to say , yet , can’t think clearly enough to convey them.

Just know I feel confused, lost , alone and triggered. I haven’t processed what it will be like without her here. Too painful. Hospice hopefully will help us all through this.

I hope I one day get to the place in the meme. I don’t want to die. That’s about all I’ve got. I suppose it’s something.

People hurting should turn a color so others know. Grief should be seen and acknowledged. But , I know better than that.

Tiny little scissors…

I had a panic attack tonight. I’m thinking the combo of herb and Hagen Daes curtailed a lot of it. My heart is still racing. I’m irritable. But , I can breathe. That is enough.

I kept seeing these today. The bag was on the counter and I didn’t really look at them. They are my mothers ” don’t touch” scissors. When I was young she has many pairs. They were all marked with their purpose. Sewing, cutting , gardening, all known as untouchable.

Rathe would come if one was missing. For someone as completely disorganized as her , scissors were like gold.

My mom is crafty. She can paint , draw , sew , and decorate. All shiny flimsy things to someone as concrete as myself. My handwriting looks like a serial killer or doctor… I’m in the medical field so that is ok. I have one crafty talent; I can cook my ass off. That was learned by default as my brother and I were neglected and I didn’t have a choice. I read cookbooks at 10 to try to feed him. We survived, though never thrived.

As mom gets closer to death , I’m finding these things all over the house. Things that have annoyed me most of my life are suddenly precious. I wonder how if hoarders start like this. Flimsy faded recipes for jello she couldn’t make , letters to people in her beautiful handwriting that thankfully, my daughters got from her. J has my handwriting. Pictures she’s painted over the years remain.

Every. Single. Thing. As seen on TV clutters and pack my drawers. . Everything was ( is ) special and interesting to her. I don’t have a single picture on the wall .. though in my defense, I’ve only lived in this house 19 years. Decorating always reminded me of my childhood and I try to avoid that. Home was a place of appearances, not feelings. As if you fancy something up enough, you’d be enough. It didn’t work that way.

My parents are Adoptees and they brought their baggage with them. Then , they inflicted it on my brother and me. It wasn’t their fault. They didn’t know. Easy to say now at past 50.

I’ve been up all night trying , as usual , to find any value in me. Still elusive. So , I’ll sit on the coach with a pounding head and see my therapist in a few hours to tell her I’m going to be without insurance soon. I’m sure it will go well. My mind is racing. I need to order all of my meds now. I need to pay bills with Monopoly money. I need a vacation. Or , a nice stay in the hospital.

I’ll leave you with this ; When did having a nervous breakdown go out of vogue ? Gone are the days you could fall apart and someone would catch you.

Love to all. I’m still here. I have a pretty good record of surviving the unserviceable.

This is Sarge. My constant. I love him. A Belgian Malinois. He’s snoring in my lap.

Real Panic Attack Live…….

So, I’m having a full blown panic attack and I decided to share. Have you had one or seen one ? This is mine……

Description: Crying without making noise. Shaking violently. Wanting to run to the fucking make believe safe place my therapist is so fond of. Rage. Terror. Grief. I’m going to throw up again. Easily annoyed. Eyes 👀 huge.

I should have known it was coming. Today is just too much EVERYTHING. I have zero reserve and I danced too close to the line. I’m FINE!!!!!! Insert sobs.

Triggers: extremely ill. Mom is getting worse. R is having cancer surgery right now , still after 6 hours. Did I forget to tell you my husband lost his job over 3 weeks ago? Yeah. Not something I can tell. Phone therapy today triggered me. I told her that I won’t get over my daughter…. for the hundredth time. They seem like they think I could or would. Bills. FEAR! In my bones. It’s hard to think or type so you’re getting live without fucking beeps. My guilt on not being able to financially contribute because I’m a disaster and I’m going through disability. Loser. Worthless. Powerless.

Having No One to call. Lonely. Isolated. Alone. I’m one of thousands doing this right now and I decided I would probably live through it if I wrote.

People are arguing over a damn football player and my daughter won’t speak to me ever. How is the world still spinning? Young girls are giving up their babies because they are told they aren’t enough. I was once one , a long long time ago. And , that was part of what destroyed me.

How are we going to pay for anything or medicine or dogs or living ? My mother will never see the beach again and I need to be okay with that. She won’t ever meet her great grandchildren, and that breaks my heart.

I’m furious, terrified, lost , broken and the thing is …. I know the worst is coming. This isn’t it. It’s the prelude. Isn’t that fabulous?????

I want to be invisible. I want to be tiny. I don’t want to have to breathe. Ha! I even managed to get a damn migraine on Aimovig. Useless me.

The thing is about a panic attack, you can’t share it. You are whining. You need to be strong. Blah blah blah. Buck up. Try harder. Be more. You aren’t enough. See the circle ⭕️???

I’m going to be fine. Great. Everything everyone wants me to be. A lie. But , it sounds good. I’m actually going to have some herb and calm the fuck down.

This is panic. This makes no sense. This is me sometimes. I won’t apologize for it. It’s never forgiven.

I don’t edit myself for anyone. If someone doesn’t like me , I’ll know. I feel too damn much for people that don’t feel a thing for me.

Finding out my Mom was dying after my last post….

After I wrote my blog on Forgiveness, we received bad news. Mom is dying. We chose Palliative Care yesterday. She’s having trouble breathing, her legs are covered in blisters from all of the fluid, and her kidney function is poor. She has refused all dialysis, and advanced life support.

I’m obsessively cleaning. I don’t know why. It’s Very unlike me. But , I’m full of this chaos in my mind. I guess it’s something tangible I can do when I cannot save her. I’ve been a ICU nurse for 26 years. That’s what I do , I save people. I can’t save my own mother. Hard to accept.

I have a strained relationship with my brother, yet yesterday we were discussing her funeral. Total brain confusion. It doesn’t seem real. I keep thinking that this really isn’t happening. I’m not ready.

She is happy, and ready. I think that scares me the most. I know when people are ready , that it doesn’t take long. Yet , I don’t want her to suffer. It’s a mix of desperation in wanting her comfortable and not wanting her to leave.

I’ve been around death for a long time. I’m good at this , Right?? It’s so different when it’s your mom. My beautiful daughter is scared and sad and that breaks my heart. I have lost one relative in my life. My only biological Grandmother, Nana. In fact it will be 20 years ago next month. I miss her daily. I still want to call her. I can’t imagine what this will be like.

I’m trying so hard to only focus on her. I’m being happy and playful and so full of it. What I honestly feel is the terror of abandonment. My constant companion. Another person I love is leaving me.

I know in my mind it’s best. Struggling to breathe I wouldn’t wish on anyone. I promised her I wouldn’t let her suffer. I’ve done Hospice as a nurse, but never on my family. I pray I’m up to the task.

I’ve lost so much I don’t want to lose my mom. She loved me before I was born. She’s always loved me , even at my worst. That’s what moms do. I’m scared to death. Will I crash and destroy myself, again? Time will tell.

I love you Mom. Always have and always will. You promised to haunt me and I’m counting on it. I’ll look for you everywhere and in everything.

Let’s enjoy our time together now. Trying to stay present. Not one of my strong suits. But , I’ll do my best. I’ll love you till your last breath and after that , forever.

If you’re reading this , please take the steps you need to so you don’t waste anymore time. Tomorrow isn’t promised. Life is so short and precious.