Ugh like all things, I struggle to just SAY IT. I was on the fence about writing, or when I would. But a dear sweet friend of mine from way back in highschool (middle school but we weren’t friends… Yet!!!) sent me this shirt and the affirming message with it…
I hold back because I worry about everyone’s feelings, even my twin flame’s feelings… I don’t want to upset anyone or worse …upset myself lol! I worry worry worry and as a result I keep my mouth shut. 39 years of doing this has proven that it’s NOT working. I wanted to DIE being quiet. (Really it was just my truth wanted the silenced part of me to die, I didn’t literally want to die … just want to make that clear 😅)
This journey is SAVING MY LIFE. It’s bringing me back to life. It’s breathing life back into these dry bones. Like the lyrics from our song…
“You pick me up when I fall down You ring the bell before they count me out If I was drowning you would part the sea And risk your own life to rescue me”
I thought I needed my twin to rescue me but nope. It was God. He left the 99 and came after me… Stranded on the edge of a cliff, about to fall off 😅
Look at me… The G.O.A.T. 😂🔥
He caught me flying, flailing, desperately screaming and plopped me right in Twin Flame Ascension school.
I’m SO GRATEFUL!!!
This is my journey back to God, into a deeper more meaningful, whole, trusting relationship and why would I not share that?!
Also, say it with me…
I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR ANYONE ELSE’S FEELINGS!
Just mine.
Just me.
That’s all I’m responding for.
So if this upsets you, take it to God. And do the mirror exercise. Claim your healing and claim your good. That’s what God really wants for us ❤️
Soooo, stay tuned! I’m gonna share all the beautiful details of my incredible twin flame journey 🔥🔥
Oh, and adding a new signature in honor of my beautiful twin 🥰
Honest. Kind. Shine.
XxOoXXo. (Said with the voice of jack black from nacho libre.. Big hug…little hug…Big kiss…little kiss…two Big hugs…little kiss.)
I write when I feel inspired. It’s like the words can’t help but fall from my lips, or fingertips, rather. The past 3-4 months are evidence of a lot of inspiration ….but also evidence of a lot of chaos which has come as a result of absolute panic.
Remember I said I had a secret? Well, the secrets keep unveiling themselves, secrets that I didn’t even know I had….are you seeing a pattern? Apparently I have a lot of them (patterns… And secrets) 😬
If you know me, you know that I’m about as authentic as they come. I have a fierce need to be genuine, to be real. There’s nothing more painful, exhausting, and awkward for me than to be fake or not myself… I’ve only ever been “fake” or dishonest about one thing, one person. Anytime I’ve felt like I have to be something other than I am/was with this person or in regards to this person I FLAILED and flailed hard. Like a chicken with my head cut off. Like a fish out of water.
I panic. I act crazy. I act so out of character and it’s like I can’t stop!!!! I embarrass myself, I embarrassed this person. I broke their trust with my flailing. They trusted me. They hoped I would be who they thought I was… Calm, kind, soft, sweet, silly, safe, warm, inviting, thoughtful, considerate.
But I wasn’t. They trusted me and I flailed and therefore, I failed.
I’ve been wearing a mask.
I’ve been walking with one shoe.
I’ve been painting with the wrong end of the brush.
I’ve managed to keep very essential parts of myself hidden, unseen, unheard, and mostly untouched, and consequently, I’ve disrespected myself, my values, my boundaries, and my needs for most of my life.
How has this happened. How could I, Kitty, have been so disillusioned for so. long.??
It just doesn’t add up. It doesn’t add up to my true nature and who I am at my core. A free spirit, a lover, a force of unbridled passion, creativity that frees and inspires, and a life full of compassion and grace… This is who I know that I am…. yet… It just doesn’t all add up. How can I be so genuine but keep some things so hidden. I’m still uncovering this reality. It’s a painful and humbling process.
(I just had a realization while proof reading…. If I flail and draw attention to that chaotic part of me then it will distract from the deeper hurting powerless part of me. The part of me that experienced the fullness of love but believed she couldn’t have it. The inability to be true to myself in this way is the most painful thing I’ve ever experienced. I flailed because I was in pain. Insurmountable grief. Heart shattered. And a grief that hasn’t stopped in ten years.)
So, yeah, I have secrets that are spilling out, some like acid on soft skin, burning the tender parts of those who get too close. Or that I pull too close. My heart feels like it’s a caged wild bird, full of rage and emotions that come on strong and fast- I’m doing anything and everything to break free from this prison. I’m having realizations and gaining information that is almost too much to process all at once.
When I slow down and take an honest look at myself though, I realize that I’ve been processing all of this slowly for years.
I’ve been quietly untangling every delicate thread and I didn’t even realize it.
I’m not the type to rip and tear unless the thread, or the chain seems unfixable or not worth the untangling effort.
Have you ever helped your grandma untangle a bunch of necklaces?
I was about 14 or so and my Grammy had a few necklaces that got tangled up. She got ‘flustrated’ and offered me a try. Little did I know, I loved the careful process of untangling and unknotting. It was so relieving when I was finally able to pull one loose, to make big progress and work out a giant knot. It’s exhilarating, weirdly. As they say, idle hands are the devil’s playground and when you’re untangling knots, well, it’s impossible for your hands to be idle. Not saying I agree with this sentiment now as an adult, but it was this kind of stuff that was forced into my mind as a kid. Like me and every other overworked and underfun-ed evangelical ever…. we’ve believed some bs.
As a result of the bs lies and a trauma response/anxious/insecure coping mechanism, I meticulously untangle every knot in my mind. Maybe I like doing it. Maybe it’s to my detriment. Maybe it’s both and then something more.
I’m not ready to share my secrets. And maybe I never will, publicly anyway. But, I will say that this is what I realized:
For 10+ years I’ve been untangling one giant mess. I’ve been untying a knot, so to speak.
As I work through it, I find nuggets of truth and hidden gems. Sometimes I flail as I get close to uncovering a diamond or gold. The flailing is, I’m realizing, a response to panic and desperation.
Just imagine that you’re realizing that you’ve been a tangled up mess full of diamonds and gold you didn’t even realize and then one day your Spirit is like “WAKE UP!!! You have gold all tangled up in there!!!! Time to excavate.”
It’s like living in a desert, desperate for water, seeing a mirage and running for it. I’ll always think of Fievel Goes West when I think of mirages.
Admittedly, I haven’t handled this excavating process as delicately as I probably should have. I used hammers and drills when I should have used brushes and picks. I would probably not make a great paleontologist. Or maybe I would… I just need some time on the job.
It makes me sad to think that I may have destroyed precious gems that have been buried deep inside the crevices of my heart, mind, and soul for over a decade. That I didn’t understand until now how delicate this process is. I was so desperate for freedom, for a solution, for love that I flailed. Yes, I flailed.
I set fires with my words, I pushed boundaries with my body and choices. I have not honored myself, my needs, and wants for most of my life so therefore I cannot and have not honored others boundaries. When I’m flailing, I’m unpredictable chaos. Like the high speed chase down RT 15 that ended with the lady’s car on top of the Chinese restaurant…. How did that actually happen anyway???
It’s just embarrassing. I’m humiliated. I’ve lived a life that I thought was good, right, authentic, and God honoring. I’ve done my best to follow the rules, consider scripture, and live a life modeled after the spiritual leaders I respect.
But, I failed. And I flailed.
My favorite coworker and I used to say “everybody panic!!!!” as a joke. Little did he know that I would take him seriously one day.
So yeah. I panicked and pushed you away by trying to pull you close to a hot stove. I flailed and revealed the ugliest parts of myself.
It’s crazy when the thing you love the most is the detriment… Let that sink in.
You can think again, when the hand you wanna hold is a weapon and You’re nothin’ but skin.
As you can tell 😬 I’m feeling a bit sorry for myself today. I’m being hard on myself because I think that if I do it then everyone will leave me alone. Or it won’t hurt so bad when others do it. Maybe they’ll think “she’s already punished herself enough”. It never seems to work out that way. In fact, my vulnerability and transparency seems to set me up for more lashings. People loooove to come after the scapegoat standing on the chopping block. (Hint, it’s me). It’s interesting that I have no problem taking ownership. Too much ownership. Codependency is a bitch.
Yet, it’s no coincidence that on the day I’m feeling guilty and sorry for myself is the day we celebrate the birth of our youngest, Anna Grace.
She’s 7 today. And amazing. My mini. ❤️ She’s everything I dreamed a daughter would be and so so so much more. I would do a lot of things over but not a single second that brought her to me. God knew she’s exactly what I needed to finally learn to love myself. There’s nothing that’s a better teacher than a baby girl who looks, acts, loves, and sees the world like you do. Every moment with her is like watching myself. As a childhood abuse survivor, this is heartbreaking and incredibly healing. Because if I want to do better by her then I have to heal myself. Because a love that pure only can come from a place of deep self love and respect. A deep KNOWING of who you are- holy, perfect, good, and worthy. Not a sinner.
I’m unlearning so much. For her. For all my kids. For myself. They’re worth it. I’m worth it.
She gets a childhood I didn’t have. Stable, peaceful, full of childhood “problems” and joys. She gets the full experience of just being a kid. Giving her this experience is worth every tear, every sacrifice, and every flail. It’s worth every moment that I’ve been untrue to myself. Because I lied for her. I denied myself to give them joys and stability and consistency and love that I never had. And because of that, I don’t regret a thing.
But, time is up now. It’s time to pay attention to my soul. My soul has been quietly screaming, behind closed doors, behind a caged up heart. Very very very very very few people know the reality of my experience – it’s depth, my pain….how hard I’ve tried. How much I’ve cried. How desperate I’ve been to fulfill the law as defined by my spiritual (religious) guides.
I’ve followed the leading of the holy spirit. I’ve committed my life to prayer and to the fruit of the holy spirit. I’m constantly learning, growing, pouring myself into wisdom and goodness. And I’ve still failed. Because I’ve lied. I lied so good I believed it was the truth. I genuinely believed.
It’s crazy how what we believe influences how much we know, even about ourselves.
The good part of all of this is grace.
And now that I’ve spent some time feeling bad and guilty and beating myself up, it’s time to talk about grace, grace, God’s grace.
When I was pregnant with Anna, this song would come on the radio, A LOT. At 2:42 you’ll hear “let me introduce you to grace, grace, God’s grace” and it sounds like angels singing. Every time I heard this frame I would burst into tears uncontrollably… There was just something so compelling about it…
Anna didn’t have a name until she was about 3 hours old. We had discussed naming her Anna if she was born on the 24th because that is also her great grandfather’s birthday, and his mother’s name is Anna. As fate would have it, she was indeed born on grandpa’s birthday. We already had the middle name Grace picked out.
My mom asked when she was about 6 hours old what “Anna” means… Go ahead and Google it. I’ll wait.
So, here she is, Grace Grace- our double portion of grace. How cool is that.
I often wake up around 3am full of emotion – mostly love, especially these days. Sometimes I wake up crying, grieving, full of love so deep that I could drown in it. I so desperately want to be held in these moments. I’ve felt so alone throughout my 39 years…even with the company of the 4 warm bodies that adorn my bed from time to time.
Because the truth is that there’s nothing that comforts better than God’s embrace. I’m sure He’s held me more times than I’m aware of.
Our first night together, I fell asleep breastfeeding my brand new almost 9 pound bundle of girly goodness and woke up, about 3am to this song, her song, playing in my head. Anna looked up at me as I heard the lyrics, and angels sang, ‘Let me introduce you to Grace, Grace, God’s Grace.’
I flashbacked to every moment I heard that song while I was pregnant with her. Every moment I had to pull over in the car because I was overwhelmed by God’s love and embrace. Every time I fell to my knees because it was like angels were singing inside of my womb.
And then, there she was, Anna Grace- the girl who would have only been named Anna if she was born on that day… TEN LONG DAYS after her due date. It was meant to be. ❤️
Three short years before this I got caught up in one of the most difficult, life changing moments of my existence. I felt incredibly guilty for my choices, for such a long time. I beat myself up more than necessary, especially as I see it all so much more clearly now.
For yearsss I’ve been so unkind to myself because of guilt. I’ve denied myself because of this ongoing guilt. I’ve made myself small, accepted mistreatment, and completely denied my needs because of this guilt. Go ahead and tell me that I’m already forgiven…. Ya, I know. But y’all will go ahead and tell me that I’m a sinner and should feel guilty the second I wanna talk about it. The second I find a thread of good in the tangled up mess.
Side note: Evangelicals are so quick to destroy each other. That’s why I’m done. I’m an exvangelical.
I’m still a believer though, in fact, I think my spirituality is stronger and more faceted than it’s ever been. I feel more and more spiritually rooted everyday. I’ve flailed as recent as Friday last week but as I finish untangling this mess I’m beginning to really see how beautiful all the different threads and colors are. I’m beginning to see how all my flailing and chaos was a result of being all tangled up. Of trying to be an efficient spool of thread while actually being a tangled up mess inside. And I’m over here like I’m fine. Everything’s fine.
After all, that’s how we’re supposed to be when we’re walking with Christ, right? Some would say it’s normal to be a hot mess. Honestly though, I kinda hoped life would be more than that. That I might actually be fulfilled, whole, happy. That the fruit would be multiplied without having to kill myself to make it happen. I think I’ve been doing it wrong. And no one even noticed.
But how were they supposed to? I didn’t even notice.
I know God will redeem all of this. I know it simply because he is good. He is a good good father. And his grace is sufficient. It’s sufficient in all of my humanity. I am perfect and holy.
In my walking with God, I may be called to depths you’ve never explored. I may do things you never thought I would do. You may doubt and question everything.
Here’s the simple truth. I don’t care what you think. I care what God thinks. I’m going to continue to pursue the Divine with all my heart and soul and trust that the universe has my best interest at heart and that they are leading me towards love. Anna is a literal gift of grace. God saw me hating myself and beating myself up for so long. And all He ever sang over me was grace. I couldn’t hear it past all the noise so He had to put it in me. Grace. Just grace. It wasn’t an affair. It wasn’t sin. It wasn’t wrong, bad, evil, deserving of eternal or even earthly punishment. God sees it for what it was/is and His grace prevails. I will not live in shame or condemnation anymore. If you don’t get it, that’s a you problem, not a me problem.
His grace covers me, His grace is in my veins, it’s in and behind every tear, every word, every misstep. His grace is sufficient. I am whole. I am peace. I am free. I am fire.
This freedom is what sets my soul on fire. This love is what gives me the ability to bask in grace, grace, God’s grace.
Fire without grace is a hot flailing mess.
Grace without fire is…well… codependency. And boring lol.
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.
This post talks about some of my suicidal thoughts. If you are triggered by or upset by these kinds of thoughts, please do not read. If you read and do become upset, that’s normal and okay! Please reach out to someone you trust. You can always reach out to me, too. ❤️
September is suicide awareness month. It also happens to be my birthday month. (yes I get a whole month. Deal 😋😁).
For my birthday this year, I’m asking for donations to 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline. Facebook offers these easy ways to donate money around your birthday time. I’ve seen some become really successful! I’m hoping this blog post will motivate readers to find compassion in their hearts for people like me. There’s more than you can imagine. Currently, we have a 13 year old kiddo who has come into our life who experiences suicidal ideation daily.
SI is often met with judgement. I’m going to strongly challenge you, if you are prone to judgement, in regards to suicide or otherwise, that YOU indeed are part of the problem.
I’m judgmental too. It’s really hard not to be. We are analytical humans, always trying to understand our world and the people in it. Some of us are even professional judgers! (Hint: therapists, pastors, doctors, anyone who works in human services… We are trained to judge.)
It’s time to FLUSH our judgments. Flush em all. Like seriously, all of them.
Blue cat=judgementalness
I have experienced suicidal ideation on and off for most of my adult life. I don’t mind talking about it except that many many people think that those who have SI are “attention seeking” and wildly, irresponsibly, and overly emotional. I’ll tell ya one thing- it sure sucks to be judged when you already feel like a burden.
That’s what my SI has said to me.
You’re a burden. You’re unlovable. You annoy people, frustrated them, no one understands you because you’re broken, you’re sinful.
Your heart is deceitful, it lies. Your heart has hurt everyone you love. Your love is like death. Your thoughts and needs drive the people you love crazy.
You’re too much.
You exhaust everyone around you. The world would be better off without your crazy mind, misplaced emotions, and inability to function like the rest of us. You’re hurting everyone. Your children deserve better.
Your death would open up space for someone to do better. Someone who understands how people are supposed to be. You don’t understand. You shouldn’t BE.
I could never actively take my life. But I have passively wished for it to end more times than I can count.
The quiet and often solitude experience of suicidal thoughts is enough to drain years off a life and overall diminish a person’s quality of life. Imagine carrying these thoughts around with you. Imagine thinking that no one actually cares. The world must keep spinning, right? After all, everyone has to work, sleep, watch their TV shows, scroll their phones…
No one has time for your whiney bullshit, Kitty. No one should have to stop their life to help you feel loved. Who TF do you think you are?
Suicidal thoughts are obviously lies.
Sadly, ALL of us who experience them experience them as TRUTH. And, go looking for evidence, you’ll find it. People think the world is flat for heaven’s sake. It’s not that far of a stretch to believe you’re a burden when the people in your life literally don’t call or text back.
Oy.
I don’t want sympathy. Empathy would be nice- if you really care you can ask what my SI experience is like for me. You can ask me why I have thoughts like this. You can ask me what you can do in those moments and then follow through. (Hint: it’s not much. Just hugs mostly.)
Suicide is heavy. Talking about it takes some of the shame out of it. Talking about it empowers others who haven’t healed yet to talk about it. I’m not 100% healed but I’m better than I was two days ago, two months ago, two years ago.
If talking about suicide makes you feel uncomfortable, that’s okay! That’s normal. Feel free to say that; be honest about your feelings. Try not to avoid talking about it though. Avoidance is the fuel for suicidal thoughts.
Try to imagine what it would be like to feel suicidal. Ask your suicidal friend what it’s like for them. Hold lots of space. No need to fix it.
The best thing you can do is slow down. Be present. Be available.
If a friend calls and is upset…MAKE space. If you can’t make space, you don’t know how to love. If you have a hair cut scheduled, reschedule it. If you made plans to go out with a buddy, ask for a rain check. If you’re at work, ask for a mental health hour. If you’re in the middle of dinner with your family, quietly excuse yourself. PEOPLE will understand. And if they don’t, are they really your kind of people?
Facebook takes care of the donation processing with no fees. My goal is $390 for my 39th birthday. A $39 donation is enough of a birthday gift for me ❤️ Thank you for caring about other people.
Empathy. Vulnerability. Safety.
Let them tell their story.
If you’re not able or willing to do this hard task, that’s okay. Talking is hard, listening is even harder. Just donate money and help save lives. Tell your friend to call 988. There are lots of people like me out there who feel unloved, worthless, like a burden. Your donation will communicate to them that their life is worth living… That YOU want THEM to stay alive.
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We can all help prevent suicide. The 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline (formerly known as the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline) is a 24-hour, toll-free, confidential suicide prevention crisis line available to anyone in the U.S. in suicidal crisis or emotional distress. By dialing 988, the call is routed to the nearest crisis center in our national network of crisis centers. You can also text 988 or chat online at 988lifeline.org. The 988 Lifeline is a program funded by SAMHSA and run by Vibrant Emotional Health, a 501(c)(3) organization. Your donation will go to Vibrant Emotional Health to support the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline and other programs and services administered by Vibrant.
I’m burdened by the hypocrisy of the “Christian” church.
I can’t believe I’ve played a part in this nonsense… This hate.
Church…we’ve messed up. Big time.
This is abhorrent.#guiltyActually, ask yourself if anyone feels loved by you. Change my mind.Burn every copy of love&respect 🤮Submit submit submit and God will bless you with an asshole for a husband who can’t even find the ketchup on the front door. Also, was told by my pastor and “Christian” therapist that they were angry with me for trying to feel loved. Fuck purity Sounds a bit narcissistic I didn’t write this. I don’t like those words at the end but you should seriously think about if and how your beliefs are hurting you and other people. People should not be able to love better than God.Yeah, this one’s tough for me too. No caption needed. Other than *note: WITHOUT STRINGS ATTACHED #yepThe hypocrisy is as THICK as their skulls…Y’all. I don’t even understand this logic Or this logicI’m actually okay being kept awake. I’m sorry.Cherry picking should be left for actual cherries We’ve really messed up.Well, does it?🎤I try to remember to talk to my unpleasant emotions like I would a little toddler. What do you need? How can I help?No virtue. Read it again with me.I seriously do not even understand how one could think they should be in office.😬Sick.
I’m kind of done with this “Christian” nonsense. Pray for my soul.
I’m in a weird state of having so much to say and nothing to say at all. Most of what I want to say is not ready for public consumption. It’s not time yet.
I’m learning to be okay with TIME. I’ve always struggled with the concept of time. Am I alone in this? I think it must be because at our core, we are not time-bound creatures. We have a body and a mind that are tied to time, but we are SOULS, which are not bound by time. For whatever reason, my soul seems to reject the essence of time more than others seem to struggle. I rarely pay attention to the clock. I don’t wear a watch. I’m often late….and I often don’t leave when I “should”. (My husband and I have been known to help turn the lights off after church lol).
I tend to pay attention to my body and the energy in and around me in making many of my decisions that involve time. Obviously, this approach can’t be applied everywhere like when showing up for class or boarding a plane. I’m thankful my husband keeps better track of time than I do… but we’re known for “oh, they’re on Martin time”. (Our eldest child is the WORST lol) see: snail.
It also doesn’t help that my childhood experiences made it difficult for me to get anywhere on time.
Something I’ve learned in my healing journey and as a trauma-informed therapist is that trauma gets stuck in our bodies if we don’t heal it. How this manifests then is that when our ANS (Autonomic Nervous System) gets activated (or triggered) we, usually without conscious awareness or choice- fight, flight, freeze, or fawn and we usually revert back to the age/developmental stage in which we were traumatized and how our ANS learned to cope at that time. This is why we have 50 something-year-olds having temper tantrums (think road rage) like a 4 year old. Something happened at that developmental stage that they never healed.
For me, one of the reasons I don’t do well with time is because my parenting situation was inconsistent. My parents separated when I was 4? and they never lived together after that (thank you JESUS- more on this later). But of course as a 4+ year old, who didn’t know her father was unstable, all I wanted was to be with him. He was the “fun” parent. Also, my brother and I didn’t see my dad for a year after they separated; we moved from California to Pennsylvania without him. My mom did an awesome job at facilitating this difficult co-parenting arrangement but still, I never knew when I was going to see him. He was not well, not consistent, and in a word, irresponsible. I developed an anxious attachment in part because of this.
Kids thrive on routine and predictability. Some kids may have developed an anxious approach to time. I developed an ambivalent approach to time. I know this was likely necessary for survival or just seemed ‘normal’ to me as a small person. (Just like an anxious approach is, too.) I’m sure there are many reasons that I have difficulty waiting and difficulty managing time. But I think this is one significant facet of my time bomb lol. I’m also like my mother who, as I remember, struggled with timeliness 🙂 (sorry for outing you mom :)) My dad is definitely not the type that is bound by most social constructs so…bottom line…I come by it honestly.
How my difficulty with time has manifested in my adulthood is….interesting. I’m not type A really (what are the other types? haha) so I don’t have that anal retentive personality type that is hyper focused on time, structure, order, “respect”. My motto- ‘I’ll get there when I get there. If you don’t want me late then I’ll go home. I probably didn’t want to come anyway.’ HA!
I understand that my indifference towards time pisses some people off. Trust me, I KNOW. I’ve heard aaaalllll about it. I know time-sensitive people often can and do feel like I’m being disrespectful of them and their time. I know they probably think, ‘all you care about is yourself, Kitty’. Ouch. This certainly is not my intention, to hurt or upset people by being untimely. My intention is actually centered in attending to the needs of each moment instead of freaking out about being late or doing things by/on a certain time. This of course get more complicated when you have children.
It wasn’t until an old friend freaked out on me for being 10 minutes late to something that I got my butt better in gear, especially on being ‘on time’.
My mindset is not at all like a time-minded person’s mindset so my first thought when someone’s late isn’t “how rude” or something of that nature. In fact, I’m more likely to think, “they must have got caught up in something, I can wait” and because I know I often get caught up in something, I give lots of grace. Afterall, is the thing THAT important? (Sometimes it is. I’m (usually) on time for those things :))
When someone stays late my mindset isn’t “they need to go”. It’s usually something like “they must really need this time together”… and because I’m flexible with my time, I’m able to serve them in that way.
I know, I know- you time-minded people are squirming in your seats. I get it. I’m muuuuch better at arriving on time than I used to be. Here’s where I still struggle….
I crave deep connection. There are a few people on this planet that I can and do get lost in space with. It’s like our souls connect and they go off dancing among the stars. Before I know it, it’s 5am. I’m energized, alive, and so full– I’m overflowing. I can get 3 hours of sleep and attack the day ahead with joy and vigor- no problem. I’ll just catch up on sleep later. Unfortunately, not everyone is like me… haha… and even though their soul seems to enjoy the dance… they can’t just “lock the door and leave the world outside” all day every day. Sigh… won’t heaven be great for people like me?
All of this to say… I have a lot to say. But, I’m taking my time, respecting others’ time requests, and waiting on God’s timing. NONE of these things come naturally to me, admittedly. So, feel free to say ‘atta girl’.
If you’re a chronically late person or someone who also struggles with time constraints, I hope this post helps you know you’re not alone. To cope, I have crafted a life that allows me to be a bit more flexible, to move at my own pace. I have also crafted a life that forces me to be time-bound in my work. That structure is helping me repair some childhood wounds that inevitably created my difficulty with respecting this unnatural boundary. It also helps me be in relationship with people who are time-sensitive.
And for those of you reading that are a fan of time, please know that people like me are not trying to be disrespectful. In fact, we’re likely doing the opposite. We are slow and gentle with a crying child, we will get out of our car and help a turtle cross the road, we’ll stay the extra 20… or hour…. to help clean up and make sure your soul feels safe. We stop and smell the roses, say hello to a neighbor, feel the breeze in our hair, and we’re the ones who make the special moments last.
I will suck every ounce of precious time out of every sweet moment. We only get a few that are actually worth living for… might as well make them last as long as possible ❤
Keturah Mae Shine 