Posts tagged adverse childhood experiences
Showing UP for Sophia: And Like That, She's Gone

I have work to do, but I can’t stop crying. I have to get it out first. I have to be with this. I have to feel it all. Even when my breath tightens, even when my legs can’t stop shaking, even when I have to pause typing for every word to cry. I have to understand why I feel like such a failure. I have to know to go forward. Deep down I already know what it is, I’ve just never named it. Only shamed and blamed it in others.

This is my mid-life crisis. This is where I see all of my shit. Where I face my shadows, the darker parts of myself that I don’t want you to know. So why am I telling you now? Because I’m done hiding.

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Showing UP for Sophia: Good Thing

I knew next to nothing about the fathers of my children. All three of them. Third times the charm? In the sense that I‘m certain I’ll never have another baby with a man I barely know? Absolutely. Not only because I’m 44, but because I’m over the concept that I need to be with the father to be there for our child. We are. We will be. I’m trusting that John and I will show up for Sophia in the ways she needs, since we weren’t showing up for each other, which was unfair to us all.

I’ve been here before. I know what usually happens... I get the kid and he and I hate each other, forever. As if that tactic worked with my first two children who have since confessed that I regularly crossed their boundaries by sharing too much, and rarely got consent from their fathers for making choices that concerned our children. Not this time.

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Rewrite #ABCs🚦 & Flip the Script on Relationships

Facing my ACEs helped me understand why I had no ABCs.

Being told how to feel taught me to mistrust myself.

I had no awareness that I could have boundaries or should require consent.

What was consent?

My boundaries were crossed every day.

I had no privacy or choice, just rules and punishment.

Now that I know my ABCs and have become my own Trusted Adult,

I’m introducing others to theirs.

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Mom in Me: My Best Friend & Biggest Bully

I wasn’t a good mother. I wanted to be. I tried to be. But I only knew as much as I learned, and what I learned wasn’t good.

My mother screamed, and hit, and hurt everyone in our home. Especially me. I was singled out for being the only girl. Given rules and expectations that didn’t apply to my brothers. Years later, I’d learn why.

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One... Two... Three... Triggered!

My Mama wasn’t allowed to be a kid. At twelve she started working outside her family's home, but at six she had been instructed to work inside. The third of twelve children, there was little opportunity for her to go outside and play. She soon forgot what play was. I wanted to remind her by giving her a day to let her Inside Kid OUT at Wonderspaces.

We had lots of fun... exploring, laughing, until we didn't. An hour after smiling for the camera, we were arguing with each other.

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I ACEd, but She Graduated

"I don't know, I feel silly. Maybe I shouldn't walk?"

 "What do you mean? You've worked hard, you earned this."

 "Yeah but, it's only my Associates."

 Only?

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