OMG crying again? knock it off lol
The tears stopped and I instantly started laughing.
I am grateful for my ability to cut through the BS with myself sometimes.
Lately, the kind of problems I cry about are the kind that most people might kill to have.
The real problems that I deal with give zero fucks about my tears. They collapse and cripple me in more ways than one. They torture me and threaten to take away my life for good this time.
There is something very, very tragic about my life.
I think that is what makes my triumphs so brilliant. And inspiring.
But the depth in my eyes comes from chasms of pain I have traversed.
And some canyons which still exist that I not only don’t have the map for, but they exist waiting underneath the fabric of my everyday existence like landmines.
I have discovered within me a power that I believe is in within everyone, and that is to materialize the earthly things that give me peace, joy, beauty, comfort and self expression in this world.
I am good at getting amazing groups of people together seemingly out of nowhere as well.
Angel people always show up in my life at the right time.
I have become a magician at materializing in the world but there are parts of my inner being that I still cannot touch.
No one can. And I am incredibly and deeply lonely.
I have been since I was a child.
I remember these physically crushing feelings of rejection, isolation and loneliness from age 2. Being alone and trying valiantly to hold back tears, my tiny chest tight and heaving as the alarm of abandonment raced up and down through my body. My throat squeezing shut literally and metaphorically.
My mother would leave me locked in a car outside the apartment building of her new boyfriend because well, he “didn’t like” me.
I didn’t like him either. He had a bad vibe, a grouchy face, didn’t talk much, drank alot and as I recently heard my three year self say on a tape where my mother was interviewing me, “he doesn’t share”.
“Oh, Adelle” was her reply, disappointment and hurt in her voice. A voice that disturbingly sounds exactly like mine today. The emotional tone is different. My mother extremely extraverted, myself, introverted af. Hers had a people pleasing element to it, mine a touch of that disagreeable personality type which means I typically have very different political and social views from my peers but has probably saved my life many times over.
I had books in that car. I became great at reading.
With no one to talk to, I developed a vivid imagination and fantasy world inside my own mind.
I practiced listening intently for the voice of God. I didn’t hear it until many, many years later but that is a different story.
I spent hours people watching from behind the glass. An isolating way that I would come to experience the world for most of my life.
I told myself that my mother had extremely bad taste for choosing her boyfriend over me. I was smart, I was cute, I was funny. I loved her.
Her relationship with him would last a year or two. With me? A lifetime.
My mother is very dumb, I rationalized.
When I was 24, I lived in the woods a 7 hour drive away from home, in the midst of my dream job at the time. She died a few weeks after emailing me while telling me she was in the hospital. It was serious. Please come home.
I still have the email. The tone was meek, childlike, mewling.
Nothing like the silent, seething Medusa that could ice out and shame a toddler. Where was the raging Hydra mother whose mere memory would cause me as a confident, assertive adult to experience myself cower into a protective position that I could not pull my body out of when a therapist once tried to have me push a pillow away to experience setting a boundary with her. The emotions and memories it called up had me somatically stuck like a person under a spell. Or a curse.
I pretended I thought the email was a joke.
It might have been, she liked to play manipulative games to affect her children negatively whenever they seemed happy.
Watch, she’ll get sick when we’re gone, my brother had predicted.
Even if the email was serious, I didn’t care. No, it wasn’t that I didn’t care. I did.
In fact, I was pitiless. Almost grateful for the opportunity to reject her in her time of need.
The woman who left me tied to a hospital bed alone when I was 4 years old, my hands straining to reach the barbie coloring book I’d been looking through that had fallen on the floor until an old man who could barely move got himself out of the neighboring bed, shuffled over and picked it up for me.
The woman who visited me after surgery in the hospital when I was 10 years old and after the nurse left the room, turned to me with venom and accused me of faking………faking not being able to walk on my less than 8 hours prior biopsied, underweight and malnourished ten year old thigh and ankle.
That woman wanted me to drop my life to be by her side in the hospital now.
I suppose years spent on welfare and mooching money from people had gotten her used to the idea that she could easily get something for nothing.
I guess she was surprised to find that relationships don’t work like that as well.
Being back in talks with my brother has been really helpful. Even if he is just asking me about how my weekend was or telling me about a show he has coming up or a friend who is visiting from out of town, there is an underlying thread of being able to be met on a certain level.
Every sibling has a different experience of their parent. My brother has a history with our mother that is a different constellation of pain, neglect, abuse, disappointment, manipulation, lies, outrage and brokenness than mine.
But he is the only one who will ever really get it. He was there. And having that as a touchstone has really helped me. Sometimes I can’t imagine that any of the things I lived through were ever real. He reminds me. Verbally sometimes too, when I am hard on myself, which is often.
It’s been tempting for me to believe that the right person could take my loneliness away as though it were simply an uninvited guest who won’t leave my doorstep.
But until I get better, all I am doing is looking for people who want to be lonely together.
There are a lot of us in the world.
I don’t know if a full recovery will ever be possible for me. And I am okay with that.
Much to my cardiologist’s dismay, I even take a lower dose of my heart meds because the recommended dose takes my passion away. I realized that on this earthly plane, I need my physical heart to create and experience the passion of my life.
I’d rather take numbered heartbeats that have purpose, depth, pain and meaning than a lifetime where the capacity to feel has been numbed to prolong it.
I feel like I can finish what I have come here to do within 10 years if I am lucky enough to have that. I can take it even further with 20. Who knows what I could with 30 or 40 but realistically, that is probably somewhat unlikely for me.
Regardless, I am taking some time away. I will be working on my books and my new website. I will be setting pre recorded videos to post for me on YouTube. I will probably just go live in a cabin in the woods again for the summer so I may post Instagram pics and such from time to time. I like blogging here so there’s that too.
I have wrapped things up with my current clients but may start offering a new type of session later this summer. Connecting with people, deeply hearing their stories, being with them where they are and being able to hold space for their future vision is one thing I am good at. And quite enjoy.
But I am going on a hiatus from the human game of life for a while. I need to slow down, stop, probably. Get some help and take some time away because I have a lot of things I want to create but I can’t in this current state.
Apologies to everyone who has sent me emails and messages. I can barely deal with phones calls for now but I do have the hope of every overwhelmed procrastinator that one day, I will be able to sit down and read and reply to everyone!!
Sending everyone lots of love for a beautiful summer.
Goodbye for now