Listening to Landslide by Judah and the Lion (a Fleetwood Mac remake- better imo 😬) and contemplating the last 39 years of my life. If you take a listen I think you’ll get a window into my life, as it is and as it’s been.

The lyrics are just… almost too much to bear without filling a bucket of tears.

Took my love and I took it down
I climbed a mountain, then I turned around
And I saw my reflection in the snow-covered hills
‘Til the landslide brought me down

Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love?
Can the child within my heart rise above?
Can I sail through the changing ocean tides?
Can I handle the seasons of my life?

Well, I’ve been afraid of changin’
‘Cause I’ve built my life around you
But time makes you bolder
Even children get older
Well, I’m getting older too…

10 years ago I made a commitment to someone I love that I would climb ‘our mountain’…. and then I turned around….and then the landslide brought me down.

I’ve always struggled with my relationships with men. It’s a bit dark? deep? to talk about this on my birthday but it’s what’s on my heart…

I’ve shared here and there that I have a complex relationship with my father. Come this December it will be 10 years since we’ve had any interaction.

About ten years ago, someone close to me contacted me- she was very concerned. She shared that my dad had messaged one of her daughters in the middle of the night (she was a very young teenager at the time) and the message made her feel really uncomfortable. This person close to me was aware of my dad’s history (I’ll share below) and asked me to talk to my dad about his behavior. She wanted to call the police. The interaction was obviously concerning and compelled me to address my dad. I had just turned 29 when I had to have this conversation with my DAD.

What is your relationship with your dad like? Does he respect the boundaries and innocence of you, your friends, others? Does he call you on your birthday? Does he allow you to have your own special moments?

Bryce has allowed me to witness what a good father looks like. I’m grateful.

My father was not a good father.

Don’t get me wrong, we had some good moments.

My dad was the fun parent. He was like us kids, loved to play video games, listen to music, be silly. My dad is an artist, an author- he’s very very talented. He loves psychology, science, and philosophy. He’s incredibly intelligent. Emotional. Deep. Pensive. Creative. Expressive…

Sound familiar?

I haven’t wanted to be but the truth is…I am so much like my dad.

I have wanted to deny this, run from it, not admit it. Because I was afraid. Afraid if I expressed myself fully I would turn into him, or even worse- be accused of things he’s done. My dad doesn’t live by the “rules”. Even to this day the way he lives is life is outside of what’s considered “normal”. He’s not a productive member of society.

My dad was never held accountable for what he did to me. He was never held accountable for the many many ways he made so many of my friends uncomfortable by making me/them the object of his sick desires.

The fucking hard thing is…I love my dad. I miss him. I want to have a relationship with a father. And I don’t. I can’t. He’s toxic and dangerous. I must protect myself and my daughter. He will never ever have any kind of access to her because he’s an abuser.

This is very hard to write.

I have been conditioned to “respect my mother and father” and I think they and most people would prefer if I didn’t air my dirty laundry (and the alternative is???? let it stink up my house???)

Childhood abuse makes people uncomfortable. No one wants to admit that their own father was both the object of their love and also their destruction.

How awful and confusing that is. I was just a little girl. I had no voice. I had no one to protect me. No one knew. I didn’t talk about it for TEN YEARS.

Apparently I’m good at keeping secrets for a decade 😦

My mom didn’t know. No one knew. No one knew what he did to me. And I’m not going to write it here because it’s just….awful.

But I will say this…. because of who he is, how he objectified me and every little girl he had access to, he made me not trust myself. He made me detach my mind from my brain. He traumatized me. He robbed me of my innocence.

He refuses to take ownership and be held accountable for his actions which is why I have severed him from my life. I’m not happy about it. I’m not over here celebrating the fact that my dad is a pedophile. It is the worst family secret that could ever exist. Imagine having to hold that in your heart and mind your whole life.

I was never given a space to talk about it, to heal. I can’t even count how many people have said, “it make you stronger”, “he did his best”, “maybe if you…”, “you need to forgive”… I don’t think people understand how hurtful statements like this are. So many people have implied that it was somehow my fault, my responsibility. If you’ve EVER thought anything like this about a victim of childhood abuse (or any abuse, for that matter) YOU are part of the problem and have blood on your hands.

It wasn’t my fault.

The 1990s weren’t trauma informed or kid-positive so my brain just did it’s best to figure out how to deal.

As a result I have ongoing trauma triggers, flashbacks, unwanted memories, and I’ve had LOTS AND LOTS AND LOTS of confusion and heartache around parenting, love, sex, my body, and MEN.

My mom never dated or remarried so I virtually had no positive male role models in my life, especially before I was 16. I had a grandfather and a few uncles, but we weren’t close in a way that I needed. It’s not their fault. In today’s other post I share how much I crave intimacy- being seen, known, and loved. For at least 10 years (probably 10-20 years old) the darkest and most devastating part of my life was unseen and unknown by anyone but me…and him. Secrets are intimate. These kind of secrets are killers. Killers of mind, body, and soul. It’s a freaking miracle that my life has gone the way it has. Someone must have really been praying for me, looking out for me. Apparently her name was Elaine ❤

The landslide lyrics are tough to hear but also so healing.

I have built my life around four different men, trying to find love, trying to find wholeness and healing. Some people get lucky and do find healing in their relationships. I actually think that’s how it’s supposed to be. We are built for community. Finding your tribe is a real and necessary thing– consider yourself incredibly blessed if you feel like your tribe- whoever you decide that to be- gets you–all of you.

Time has made me bolder. I’m writing- something I’ve been scared to do for so many reasons but a significant one is because I don’t want to be my dad. I love to write. But it’s suuuuperrrrr triggering. I remember days, weeks, years of my dad pouring all of his energy into his books, into his art, and into his love for little girls. Even as I type this I could just scream. Or barf. Or both, at the same time.

It is the worst feeling ever to love someone who destroyed you.

So here it is, my 39th birthday. I won’t get a call from him, I won’t get a card. I won’t hear ‘I love you’ or ‘I’m proud of you’. As far as I know, I’m dead to him. All because I spoke the truth and set a very very firm boundary.

Lots of people don’t have a dad. Lots of people were physically, sexually, emotionally abused by their fathers. Lots of people cut off contact with their dad (or mom) for their own protection and mental health.

I don’t think many people have a dad like mine though. So gifted, so wounded, so deep and profound, but also so… dangerous.

Usually I’m okay. I can find joy in watching Bryce parent Anna. I find peace in knowing that we’re protecting her body, mind, and soul. I am able to love myself, parent myself in ways I wasn’t. I’ve worked really hard to not be triggered and in my trauma unconsciously. Because it’s UGLY and crazy when it shows up. It makes me mean. It makes me misunderstand nearly everyone’s intentions, especially men.

I don’t see men as dangerous. That’s not how it shows up for me. I see men as indifferent towards me. There are a few men I cherish and they are the one’s that get the brunt of my trauma projections. You didn’t call on my birthday? Must mean you don’t love me. You forgot about me, didn’t celebrate me, didn’t notice or give me special moments? Must mean I’m unlovable…trash…unworthy.

My abuse taught me that I am unworthy of the basic human right to bodily autonomy. To be protected, safe, and loved as a little girl. He robbed me.

So, thirty-nine is the year that I am taking my life back, out of his hands, out of any man’s hands that I’ve surrendered my self-worth to. I’m taking my life back, I’m taking my heart back. I’m taking my body back. I’m taking my mind back. It’s all mine now and I’m not going to let anyone anywhere implicitly or explicitly define my worth.

I’m also going to fight like hell for the things I want, for the love I deserve.

It’s taken me thirty nine years but I finally know what I want. I finally know what I deserve. I won’t settle for anything less. I would rather be alone.

If you can’t grow or change to become what I want and need, then you’re not right for me. You may be a decent human. You may be everything someone else wants or needs. But if you like the person I am- deep, passionate, loving, expressive, full of light and love- then you might have to work on your shit. You might have to grow. You’ll probably be stretched and made uncomfortable.

Go out on a limb– that’s where the fruit is 🙂

Not everyone is able or willing to let go of their patterns that hold then back or hold them in sick places, like pedophilia for my dad…

Newsflash though…the universe will continue to present you with opportunities to confront your demons. Don’t think you can escape it. There’s no better motivator than love. I hope you choose love.

We outgrow people who won’t grow with us.

Most people just want to stay safe…but as they do they stay in their pain, in their lies, in all the things that hold them captive. I know because I’ve been there.

I’m giving myself the gift of freedom.

Freedom from lies. Freedom from captivity. Freedom from triggers. Freedom from dogma. Freedom from judgement. Freedom from death. Freedom from smallness. Freedom from scarcity. Freedom from him.

I’m willing to burn for you.

Honest. Kind. Shine.