Chapter 11: Taking Up Too Much Space and Time

 

The title is a reference to the Taylor Swift song “Tolerate It”. Yes, I am currently a super Swiftie and unapologetically so. Some of her lyrics hit hard. Like this song in particular – I have felt like I am always taking up too much space and time or how about this doozy -> my love should be celebrated, but you tolerate it. I mean, whoa.

In this chapter’s video, I talked about a moment last week. Go, watch this. It’ll give the backstory and slightly more context to the rest of this post.

When I discussed all of the events of that morning with my therapist, she broke my heart. She told me that these episodes will be happening more and more often on my healing journey. Great.

Well, technically she said this is part of the healing journey. For so long, I was in survival mode. And my brain would not allow me to feel/think about/experience certain things. It was keeping me safe.

But now that I have created a space of healing, peace, and love, my brain will begin to open up and force me to face certain traumas. Things I need to heal from. I should be proud – it is a testament to the peace I have created for myself.

Hopefully these triggering moments will be few and far between. And the goal is to pinpoint what the root cause of the nervous system response is.

I am so proud of myself for the way I handled this one. I reached out for a lifeline, even just a few months ago I would not have done that. I spoke openly and honestly with myself about the moment. I gave myself the space and grace to feel that, look it right in the face, process it, and then move on from it.

One of the things I think I do really well is self-reflection. I probably borderline on being too extreme and hard on myself because of that. But I try to recognize that too.

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This year has been a lot. Life has been a lot.

It is daunting to think about how long this journey is going to be. I know I still have so much sift through. BUT I feel content. Joyful even. I cannot find the proper words to express how I feel – it is a car full of all sorts of emotions – peaceful, happy, joyful, sad, lonely, stressed, nervous, anxious, grateful, and several others. All at the same time. They take turns taking the front seat.

Through it all though, I feel this overwhelming sense of peace. And always have. I am grateful for that peace. I am sure it is what has kept me pushing forward and prevented me from drowning.

Chapter 10: Merry Christmas, Ya Filthy Animals

 

Christmas is fast-approaching. I can not wait! Although I am a Halloween girl for sure, I love Christmas too. With all the decorations, lights, chilly temps, trees, baked goods, parties… how could you not love Christmas time? 

I suppose it was more meh to me when we lived in south Florida, and it was always hot. I mean HOT. Like open the door and get hit in the face by a wall of humidity. Yuck. And that is not fun on Christmas. 

Now that we live in Alabama, we get SEASONS. Actual temperature changes. It’s amazing. 

I love the cold. Cold means sweater weather. Cold means bundling up in coats, boots, maybe even gloves. It means I use the seat and steering wheel warmers more than the AC in the car. It means the stockings have to be taken down because we want a fire crackling in the fireplace – heck, it means having a fireplace to hang the stockings above. 

The countdown to Christmas signifies a few non-negotiables in my house. Christmas movies, Christmas cooking/baking, holiday parties, and that ridiculous elf. 

Elf on the Shelf 

I tried to get away from the elf tradition, but I was unsuccessful. Yes, I realize I could have dug my heels in and refused. But why? What a silly, harmless joy to deprive the kiddos. 

Anyway, the bigs are responsible for the elf. This is their first taste of creating holiday magic. So far, so good. I no longer have to drag myself out of bed in the middle of the night because I forgot to move it. Win win. 

The biggest win is that Remy LOVES it. He is almost 5, so this is pretty much the most magical year for holidays. He loves the lore (we create fantastical stories sometimes to explain certain things). 

I have a feeling Christmas morning is going to be very exciting this year for him. 

Christmas Movies

We are big fans of “movie night”. Essentially, that just means we turn off the lights for a movie screening. Sometimes we throw down a picnic blanket (Remy calls them pinkets) and eat dinner on the floor too. I know, wild and crazy! 

Our must-watch holiday flicks are: 

1. Home Alone
2. National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation
3. Love Actually
4. The Santa Clause 
5. Die Hard

Reagan and I are huge fans of cheesy holiday romance movies too. But those don’t make Riley’s short list. 

Christmas Cookies

We make egg-free sugar cookies each year to leave out for Santa. I will be making a batch next week and freezing them. I will make the buttercream icing on Christmas Eve when we are ready to decorate the cookies. 

I played around with some melting chocolate earlier this month. Melting chocolate and Oreos is a beautiful combo.

 

So, what do you look forward to the most in December?

Chapter 9: Goodbye 2023, Hello 2024

 

As this year is nearing its close, I can’t help but reflect on what a wild one it has been. I know I joked many times that 2023 tried to kill me, but honestly, I have a sense of peace and pride when I look back at the last calendar year.

According to Kelly Clarkson, what doesn’t kill me makes me stronger. And isn’t that the truth?

Goodbye 2023

So yes, I experienced a few of life’s big negative stresses – divorce, job loss, moving. I also can’t ignore these chapters – I stripped myself down and shared my darkest secrets and fears. 

Let’s deal with the easiest one first. The job. It feels odd to even put this on the list, but it was a big moment over the summer. And the timing of it hurt (6 days after my divorce was finalized). After getting over the sting, I picked myself up, dusted off, and got to work building the life I ultimately want and deserve. 

Moving and divorce are intricately intertwined. I moved because of the divorce. The actual move was good… even though earlier that week an anxiety attack sent me to the ER. With time in my new space, I was able to relax. Through all of the self-reflecting, therapy, and researching I have done, I learned that my nervous system was resetting – I had been living in a state of flight, fight, fawn, or freeze for who-knows how long, probably decades. 

This safe, calming space is what has allowed me the ability to dig into my past, evaluate my choices, and create a loving future.  

I do not for one minute regret the decision to get divorced. That is not to say that it wasn’t sad, difficult, nerve-wracking, terrifying. But it was the right one.

Our marriage wasn’t perfect. Obviously. Spoiler: there is no such thing as a perfect one. The smear campaign that was launched has been quite the show (if we are being honest, it launched before I said goodbye). To quote Taylor Swift, Did you think I wouldn’t hear all the things you said about me? 

One of the most important lessons I have learned – probably a trauma survivor spidey sense thing – is to pay attention when people speak badly of other people. Consider the situation… who are they speaking ill of?- is it someone they “love” or don’t like? If they will talk badly of someone they love, they most definitely will stab you in the back one day. 

Remember kids, vents go into other rooms. What you say, can and will get around. 

Long story real short and with very vague details, I am not ready to go into specifics. Suffice it to say, I had to go. Sometimes, that is the right choice. I don’t expect everyone to understand, not everyone has heard my side. 

The final big, emotional stressor for me was opening up to share my story. I was terrified. There was no possible way for me to predict how it was going to be received. And as a friend pointed out a few weeks ago, it is emotionally exhausting to metaphorically strip down and allow everyone to look. 

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Hello 2024

Taking all of this stuff into consideration, I still smile when reflecting on the year. I am SO proud of myself for facing the fears – fear of rejection, fear of the unknown, and more. Those were some of the biggest steps I could ever have taken. Sometimes the ground felt shaky and unsteady, but I just kept going. One step at a time. 

And now, I am confident, happy, at peace, and ready to walk into 2024 with my head held high. What will next year bring? I have no idea.

I do not like resolutions. Just the term. I love the idea of setting goals for the year. Resolutions though are usually broken. Goals, not so much.

I’ve got a handful for 2024 Mindy.

1. Read through the Bible.
2. Walk 4-5 times per week for at least 30 minutes.
3. Read 24 books.
4. Write more.

I am confident these four things will help me grow in the ways that I want.

Are you following along on YouTube or TikTok? You should be.

Chapter 8: My First Thanksgiving

 

Well, first Thanksgiving post-divorce, without the kids. Actually, I think this is the first holiday I have EVER spent without my children.

I wasn’t totally sure what my plans were going to be or how I would feel about this. As the day approached, I experienced a full spectrum of emotions.

I figured I had a few options for how to feel about this. 

• Option 1 – feel sad, miserable. Whine like a child over something I cannot control or change. 
• Option 2 – plow forward, with a grateful heart and smile on my face. 

Option 2 please. It’s not unreasonable for me to think I can be grateful this season. I have a lot to be thankful for. 

I have always been a glass-half-full girl. I can find a silver lining in just about the darkest places. 

But seriously, isn’t there always something to be grateful for? 

For me, Thanksgiving (the holiday) is a specific meal. Exactly the way my mom used to make it. Roasted turkey, homemade stuffing, green bean casserole, mashed potatoes, cheesy hashbrown casserole, cranberry sauce, Parker House rolls. Mom always has deviled eggs too, but for obvious reasons, I omit them from my table.

I keep forgetting the fruit salad. My grandma’s fruit salad is always a staple at our holiday meals. My cousin posted a pic on Facebook of her Thanksgiving plate, and that’s when I noticed it. I think it escaped my memory because the base is custard… which makes it a no-go at my house. 

But – it is SO delicious!

My mouth is literally watering thinking about it. 

Therefore, if Thanksgiving is about a specific menu and sharing it with people I love, does the calendar date matter? No, I don’t think it does. 

I made the big meal for us – that’s me and the kids – last week. We chowed down. It was so delicious. Next up was a Thanksgiving lunch at church and finally a Friendsgiving. 

If you’re counting, that was 3 Thanksgiving’s for me to spend with my kids. 4 for Remy actually, since he had a feast at school. 

So sure, I could be sad that my babies were going to be away for a few days… but I chose to be happy. I chose to appreciate the time I had with them and appreciate the time I had without them. 

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I have always been the maker of holiday magic in our house. I love holidays – decorating, festive foods, gifts, laughs, family – everything about them. But I also realize that the actual calendar date does not make the holiday special.

Will they remember missing a Thanksgiving with Mom? Unlikely, since we had 3 together (4 in Remy’s case).

Divorce has changed the landscape of our lives. Not to put too fine a point on it, but holidays should change over the course of the kids’ lives. Once they grow up and get married, they will have created a new family… a new family unit that deserves to create its own way of handling the holidays (and everything else).

If I have done my job well, all three kids will grow up, move off, get married, and create their own families and traditions.

Chapter 7: Alone

 

This one feels a little personal for me. And I realize how nuts that sounds, since all of these chapters are personal. It’s like tearing open an old wound in order to fix it. But in this open, exposed state, I feel extremely unprotected and uncovered.

Trauma survivors learn quickly how to hide feelings because we learned that it is not always safe to let others see it. I’ve always considered not being believed and supported as the worst case. However, as I go through this process, I realize that wasn’t the worst possible scenario. The worst is when you do share with someone and that person betrays you. That hurts more than the original pain. And that betrayal has solidified the need to keep things private.

One of my favorite Taylor Swift songs is called “You’re On Your Own Kid”. The end of the song goes,

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes

I gave my blood, sweat, and tears for this

I hosted parties and starved my body

Like I’d be saved by a perfect kiss

 

The jokes weren’t funny, I took the money

My friends from home don’t know what to say

I looked around in a blood-soaked gown

And I saw something they can’t take away

 

‘Cause there were pages turned with the bridges burned

Everything you lose is a step you take

So make the friendship bracelets

Take the moment and taste it

You’ve got no reason to be afraid

 

You’re on your own, kid

Yeah, you can face this 

You’re on your own, kid

You always have been

So, I will “make the friendship bracelets” by purposefully reaching out. I gave my blood, sweat, and tears to get here… And I am proud to have made it this far.

Chapter 6: Processing by Repressing

 

Stress will begin to affect your body if it is unprocessed and held onto for too long. Trauma must be processed in order to move forward. I am a living testament to these.

As a 16 year old, I really did not know how to handle all of those big things… Heck, as a 42-year-old, I still don’t know how. I have been talking things through with my therapist, a few close confidants, and myself. I think the most difficult part has been forgiving myself for not understanding… and extending myself some level of grace for dealing with it the only way I knew how.

Avoidance.

All of that: the relationship, the rape[s], the car incident, testifying in court. It was so huge. And it was never spoken about. I didn’t even try to wrap my head around it. I simply wished it would go away.

I don’t remember making a conscious decision to drink in order to forget… I just drank hoping it would go away.

My relationship with alcohol was clearly centered around those events. I felt (idiotically I know) that if I was drunk, there was some level of protection around the real, raw me. I could handle disappointment and disapproval because in my messed up mind, it wasn’t the real me receiving that… it was drunk-me.

I had this reputation as a “lush, spiraling dangerously out of control” for a while. But what that public perception did not see was the private me. I only drank if I was in social settings. I did not drink if I was alone. And around people (albeit there were only a few) that I trusted and felt safe with, I did not feel the need to put that drunk, fake armor on. I was able to be authentically me. Sober me.

The problem was that I struggle so badly with my self-worth. Does [insert anyone] like me? Am I good enough to be friends with [insert anyone]? Can I trust [insert anyone]? Am I worthy of love? Am I worthy of your time? 

I so often felt like the answers were a resounding no. My ‘romantic’ relationships had basically taught me the answer is no.

Unfortunately, this translated also into platonic friendships as well. I was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for the truth to be revealed… that the friendship meant more to me than to you.

I am oddly grateful for hitting my bottom. I have thanked the Lord so often that nothing irreversible happened on my way home that night. I will be eternally grateful to my parents for stepping in and making me clean up. And I will forever love the friend who took me to the meetings, held my hand, and wouldn’t let me go through it alone. That meant more to me than just about anything else in the world.

Want to help me out? Subscribe to my YouTube channel. Thanks! 

Chapter 5: Anger & Forgiveness

 

Sure the argument can be made that these are not related… but I usually think of them as complementary. Anger and forgiveness go together like steak and potatoes. Yes, you can have either separately or even with a different dish, but together they are *chef’s kiss*.

I suppose you can’t venture down a healing journey without a good, hard, honest look at these two. I know this won’t be the last time I end up discussing the idea of anger and forgiveness, because I see them as a constant. Constantly around. Constantly in need of attention.

For me, forgiveness feels more difficult to handle and control than anger. I don’t feel like I hold on to those mad feelings and let them fester in me… most of the time anyway. But I definitely struggle with the idea of true forgiveness. The kind the Bible talks about.

If each time I am wronged by someone, I get one of these little anger emojis  and then when I forgive someone, does the anger emoji go away? What if the anger emoji is still there, in the background. Maybe I can go days, months, years even without ever thinking about that particular anger emoji . Is the anger emoji gone? Or just hibernating?

Is forgiveness giving that anger emoji away, or turning him into a peaceful emoji ? If that’s the case, perhaps I have not fully forgiven. I feel like my anger emoji turned into a slightly less mad version, more like . And he usually sits quietly in the background of my life.

Maybe time, space, processing will turn the red, angry faces into peace signs. I can feel that happening. I hope it does. I am not a fan of the toxic feeling those little red emojis create.

I am quite sure I will be revisiting these two at a later date.

Thanks for following along and supporting me through this. 

The Bible study book I mention in the video is Seasoning Your Words by Nancy Eichman. You can use that affiliate link to order a copy.

Chapter 4: Gaslighting & Abusive Relationships

 

I don’t know about you, but I feel like gaslighting is a hot topic right now. Maybe it’s just because my social media algorithms know what I am struggling with at the moment. Regardless, I have had gaslighting on the brain for a while now.

As I mentioned in a previous post, I believe that mental and emotional abuse are the most problematic. They are silent killers – since they are literally invisible to the outside world. Physical bruises can be spotted without much difficulty, but emotional trauma is not as noticeable.

When I was walking through the gaslighting thought, I was transported to the moment I realized I had just escaped from an abusive relationship. This moment hit me like a ton of bricks. Felt like my world had just become very unsteady.

Abusive relationships are tricky. One of the questions people usually ask is why did you stay so long? That is a difficult one to answer, as there is usually a complicated mess that goes along with it… Abuse is nuanced. It is difficult for outsiders to see, and therefore difficult for them to believe sometimes – which causes a lot of stress and anxiety for the victim. Sometimes there are other factors included in the decision to stay – ie children or finance issues. Sometimes, as in my case, it took a long time for me to come to that inescapable conclusion – I need out and this is situation is not ok.

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If you need help, please contact the National Domestic Violence Hotline or your local provider. Their phone number is 1.800.799.SAFE (7233) – they are available 24/7. Or you can text them by texting “START” to 88788.

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Chapter 3: The Accident

 

This was a lot more difficult than I expected. Prior to posting this, I have really only ever spoken to a few people about the events of that September day.

You can watch the video here:

It is so incredible that our brains and bodies can be transported back into a situation that happened so long ago. As I was filming, it was like I was there. The panic and fears came flooding back.

Abuse is the only crime (or one of very few) where the victim is immediately questioned and responsibility is placed on the victim. Questions like

“Why did you stay so long?”

“What did you do to make him mad?”

“What did you do to try to protect yourself?”

“What were you wearing?” (in SA situations)

Those questions all put the blame on the victim. And they remove fault and responsibility from the perpetrator. Why is that our first instinct? Why aren’t we safe-havens for people reaching out?

According to the CDC, “about 41% of women and 26% of men experienced contact sexual violence, physical violence, and/or stalking by an intimate partner and reported an intimate partner violence-related impact during their lifetime.” [1] And only around 27% of domestic abuse cases are reported to law enforcement. Every 9 seconds, in the US, a woman is assaulted. [2]

I suppose the reason this memory is so difficult for me to speak about is because, now as an adult, I can see how lucky I am to have survived and gotten away. Leaving an abusive relationship is the most dangerous time… according to the Domestic Violence Intervention Program reports that women are 70 times more likely to be killed in the 2 weeks after leaving. [2] At 16, I was unable to see this, and I am kind of glad I didn’t realize the full weight of what had truly transpired. I think that would have been too much for me. But now, looking back, it is undeniable.

I was lucky. I am lucky.

[1] Fast Facts: Preventing Intimate Partner Violence |Violence Prevention|Injury Center|CDC

[2] Statistics About Domestic Violence 2022 (goodhousekeeping.com)

Chapter 2: The Incident

 

I saw this pin on Pinterest the other day. I have never had a writing prompt show up before, at least not that I have noticed. And this one stopped my scroll. 

I chuckled to myself. Alright. Fine. I’ll start writing. 

The moment I knew I needed to leave **** was easy. It was a Sunday afternoon, I had gone to the movies with my Grandma, cousin, and sister. **** and I had gotten into a fight before because going anywhere without **** was a problem. 

This is one of those big abuse signs that I didn’t notice. They like to isolate you from friends and family. 

I was annoyed that we were arguing over a Sunday matinee with my Grandma. Like really? So I went. And when we walked out of the theater, he was there. Waiting. Unhappy. 

An argument ensued. I am fairly certain my Grandma and cousin had left before the argument. I basically told him to get lost and that I had to run an errand for my mom before going home. The errand was to pick up a few things from the grocery store, which was in the same strip mall as the theater. 

When my sister and I got to Publix, he was right on my tail. Mouthing off. Agitated. 

I was nervous. Now my body is going into fight or flight. I split the list with my sister, told her to grab those things as quickly as possible and meet me in the checkout. I raced through Publix, **** was right there the entire time. 

Panic level is increasing. 

We make it out to the parking lot, and we are practically running to my car. My sister gets in, I almost make it into the driver’s seat. Just as I am about to sit, he reaches in, grabs me by my arms and pulls me from the car. 

Absolute panic. 

My sister gets out, I yell for her to get back in the car and stay there. I was able to toss the keys toward her as he begins dragging me through the parking lot. 

I was yelling for help. I remember the faces of the people watching. No one helped. Everyone was just kind of frozen. This is how people get kidnapped runs through my mind. 

The conversation at his truck is a blur. Lots of the normal abuser BS – I’m sorry. I just love you so much. I need you. Yuck. 

I knew my parents were going to find out about this. There was going to be no hiding this scenario from them. My little sister saw the whole thing. When I was safely in my house, I called and broke up with him. 

Of course, leaving an abusive relationship is the most dangerous time. And I was going to find that out soon enough.