Compromising Myself for Love?

Compromising Myself for Love?

Compromise happens all the time. There are compromises that you don’t have to think about and ones that take a bit more time to ponder. And then, you have to factor in the reason for the compromise. So that is an essential piece of compromise too.

It’s All About Choice

It’s All About Choice

Choice. It’s a word that packs a lot of power. When I have choices, I feel better about myself and the world around me. The ability to choose the people in my life is no different. I want to be around people who celebrate me.

The Broken Ties that Bind

The Broken Ties that Bind

I realized recently that my family was abusively dysfunctional. Growing up, I only recall thinking something wasn’t right within my family. But, then, years of therapy, sobriety, and a lot of hard work, and I think, wow, that was really bad. Followed by, holy shit, how did I survive?

Holding Myself Prisoner

Holding Myself Prisoner

I have been in prison. I didn’t make the prison, my abusers did, but I have kept myself in that prison long after either person has been in my life.

What Can I Do?

What Can I Do?

What can I do? Seeing the world from the child’s perspective of not wanting to follow in the footsteps of the adults around them.

A Moment with a Scapegoat

A Moment with a Scapegoat

We all have roles in our families, the golden child, the hero, etc. I was none of those. I was the scapegoat. I was always held responsible for the ills of life but had no way of changing my fate or the fate of others.

Sorry About That

Sorry About That

As a recovering over-apologizer, I notice more when people apologize. Especially when it is for things they shouldn’t apologize for because there is no need. Are you trying something new? Don’t apologize for being bad at it.

Rebuilding My Foundation

Rebuilding My Foundation

My childhood instability stayed with me throughout adulthood. I built a better, more stable foundation once I realized I lived in an unstable house.

Meet My Imagined Imaginary Friend

Meet My Imagined Imaginary Friend

I was embarrassed with my self-talk. Or maybe I didn’t want anyone to know that I talked to myself—least of all, my mother. Even though she hadn’t identified me as the scapegoat, I still didn’t trust her.

The Sacrificial Lamb, er, Goat

The Sacrificial Lamb, er, Goat

I would have understood my mother’s behavior if we were still living out on the plains, having to survive, and she threw me to the saber tooth tigers circling. That would have been an easier death too. I would never know that there was something wrong with me. Just instant…nothing.