Chapter 13: Therapy Progress Report

 

It has been almost one year since my ex-husband and I separated, and nearly a year since I began my journey in therapy. So much has changed since then. Life is somewhat unrecognizable.

I was reluctant to begin therapy. It feels like it was a combination of things…

• I grew up in the 90’s when mental health was not a common topic, and it certainly wasn’t for preventative help or maintaining mental stability. It was (in my view) something reserved for the truly nuts. It was reserved for people with major issues – and remember I suppressed my traumas like a freaking champ, so that obviously wasn’t me. If you can’t see a problem, there is nothing to discuss with some stranger.
• I did not see the value in it.
  • And this was kind of true right up until about the second or third session with my current therapist. Perhaps a small part was due to the fact that I have serious issues trusting and opening up… especially to a virtual unknown human.
  • But I think for me, more of the difficulty in understanding the value came from the false belief that if I just didn’t begin picking at an uncovering the traumas, they would remain relatively harmless.
  • I also did not know what the end game was going to be. I like to have a goal. I appreciate knowing what I am striving for… so to go into something potentially painful and distressing without a clear understanding of the WHY or even WHAT I was trying to accomplish felt stressful.

The ending of my marriage and beginning of my therapeutic journey are intricately woven together. It is impossible to separate the two.

Things in my marriage had deteriorated to the point that I could not see straight. I was living, scratch that, surviving each day in utter panic. Things were stressful constantly, with little to no relief. My heart rate was so out of control that my watch would several times a day ask if I was ok because my heart rate was elevated without physical movement to explain it away. I wasn’t sleeping. I would find myself hyperventilating. My vision felt off, like I was in tunnel vision most of the time. I was, by all accounts, in a stress-induced panic attack. I needed to make a change. I was almost paralyzed with fear.

Part of the change was to find a professional to speak to on a regular basis. I knew I needed help. And I needed it quickly.

I began therapy in March of 2023. Again, I really didn’t know what I needed, I just needed someone to help me. I chose my therapist because her specialty is abusive relationships and sexual assaults. I thought I should find someone who would understand my problems, my stresses, my traumas. I knew I was going to need to talk about the past. That first relationship rewired me for failure… It changed me; it taught me to accept far less than the minimum; it created a sense of worthlessness in me. And I know that is a foundation for how I moved forward through life and relationships (platonic and romantic alike).

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As I look back over the last year of work, I am SO proud of myself. I can honestly (and proudly) claim to be a stronger, happier, healthier version of me.

I have spent nearly every week on the couch of my therapist’s office, working through my world. Crying. Yelling. Cursing people. Cursing myself. Talking. Thinking. Trying. There have been many times when I leave her office and need to crumble on my couch. It is emotionally exhausting. It is physically demanding. It is mentally straining.

Even with all the uncertainty in the beginning and the frustration throughout, I can see major changes and improvements. I have a sense of peace and calm about me. I am more confident and excited about the future.

I was in a tunnel of darkness, therapy is making steps toward the light. And today, I feel like I can feel the sun on my skin. I am shedding the darkness. And man, it feels amazing.

Chapter 12: Choosing Positivity

 

Apparently there were a few things I needed to get off my chest this week.

Positivity is a choice. I believe that.

When I began sharing publicly these things, I kept wondering why I was able to get through it all… truthfully, I have wondered that many times over the last few decades. Why me? Not why did this happen to me, but why am I still here?

That seems grim. It’s the truth though.

I have never considered suicide. I never fell into utter despair or complete darkness. I always wondered what my purpose was… what was I supposed to do with my life? Why save me? There was always a light – albeit sometimes dim and far away – that I could focus on.

As I have been listening to myself retell these things, as I have been talking with my close friends, family, and therapist, as I have been reading my Bible… maybe positivity saved me. Maybe extending grace saved me. I am not talking about God’s grace – yes, that saved my soul – I mean giving myself grace for not knowing how to process the abuses and rapes. I mean extending grace to the “friend” I speak about in this week’s video. Giving her the benefit of the doubt, forgiving her for something she did not know she did, allowed me to let go of the anger I could have carried forever. It was an unspeakable pain, one that continues to hurt me; however, I harbor no anger there.

Anger has the ability to eat me alive. I know this. I have a healthy amount of fear toward that emotion. Perhaps the keys to releasing anger are grace and forgiveness. Grace and forgiveness feel interchangeable sometimes, don’t they? Grace is a kindness gifted to someone else; forgiveness is letting go of the anger caused by someone else. Grace feels easier for me; forgiveness is a struggle.

So how did I choose positivity in a realistically poopy situation?  I’m thinking it started with grace. I tried never to beat myself up too much because of the actions of someone else. I have reminded myself countless times that I was young, impressionable. I have held onto the peace in knowing that there is something SO much better to come. Recently I have been learning who I am, but all along I was reminding myself whose I am.

I do not say any of this from a place of braggadocious superiority but rather a place of gratitude and awe. This is an everyday battle. Every single day.

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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