Spring comes slowly

Spring is moving ever so slowly for me.

My mental health took a turn at the beginning of April, much like the cooler days have forced Mother Nature to slow down her heated pace. The anxiety I felt kept me frozen, and limited in what I was able to do. I did not leave the house unless I had to. Basic tasks such as getting out of bed, showering and eating were wins.

Fortunately, the anxiety has dissipated for which I am grateful. The lethargy and brain fog remain. I hope to have more energy and clarity as the days go by.

Like Mother Nature’s rhythms, a return to wellness cannot be rushed. Instead small gains need to be acknowledged and celebrated.

Much like discovering a flower in bloom that wasn’t there yesterday, I finally was able to make a soup I had been thinking of for weeks. A miracle on both counts.

Like the flowering maple in my backyard, I was able to be brave and go to a social event with more people than I had been around in a month. I felt the social anxiety, accepted it, and went anyway. I had a wonderful time, and the hugs and love I received left my heart feeling full.

Like the daffodils unfurling their sunny yellow faces in my front yard, I was able to meet a friend in a small, crowded café. I successfully navigated confinement and a crowd, two PTSD triggers. The visit with my friend and baby steps made me smile.

Nature is not hurried or rushed in her growth. This is a lesson I can learn and apply too.

It is unrealistic for me to expect a mental health pattern that has operated for more than half my life to be resolved in six months of the toughest therapy I have ever done. This setback has been humbling, and yet I see growth in the way I am able to stop and investigate my thoughts and reframe them with better ones in the past couple of weeks. Thus, I am better able to manage my emotions.

I need to have patience, grace and compassion for myself as I navigate these unsteady waters, they will be calmer soon.

The moments/gifts/answers that have appeared seemingly out of nowhere

I have had moments in my life that defy explanation.

I keep them tucked quietly away, a reminder that something bigger than me does indeed look after everything.

In recovery, we are asked to look for evidence of higher power in our lives. Looking back, she had her hands all over mine.

She kept me safe when I was partying and when I played Russian roulette with my life. When live fast, die young, and leave a good-looking corpse was my motto.

She has shown up time and time again. In my quiet whispers of “Please God, please.” She has delivered job opportunities.

She showed up and listened on a beach in the Bahamas when I set intentions for my sports psychology business. I wanted to work with ten clients that winter, 15 felt like a stretch, she delivered 12.

She showed up on that same beach when I knew it was time for me to move on from the trauma bond I was in.

She guided me to the rooms of recovery when I was physically, mentally, and spiritually broken. I was in a literal walking cast because she kept telling me to stop trying to make a relationship work. I developed an autoimmune disorder and severed an achilles tendon until I listened.

Until I surrendered and started listening to the soft, still voice inside. If I get quiet enough and be still, she’ll come.

All these years later, I still forget to check in with her, and my self will can run riot. All I have to do is stop, place my hand on my heart, and breathe.

She appears during my walks in nature when I hush the voices in my head and focus on my breath and the beauty of the world around me.

She comes to me on my yoga mat when I drop into a meditative space. When I get quiet and listen to her whispers.

When I dropped the rock I had carried for 28 years, I went for a walk and asked for a sign. She came then with the winds and I knew it was time.

She is always there, she keeps guiding me and watching over me.

The river I am crossing

I am in a year-long trauma therapy protocol for complex PTSD.

We are almost five months in and I am still in the stabilization phase.

There are three phases: stabilization, the therapy protocol, and maintenance.

We are slowly taking a childhood history for Eye Movement Desensitization Reprocessing (EMDR) therapy. It is deeply painful and triggering.

It feels like I am in a rushing river, trapped in eddies, swirling and going around and around.

That is what childhood stuck points are called: eddies. How appropriate.

My therapist is hopeful that eventually, I will be able to travel down the river on a tube, peacefully, within a ravine with vegetation while talking to fish and the wildlife as I float by.

I am hanging on to that image.

I hope the worst is behind me. We are talking about resourcing for EMDR and finding a safe place to take refuge in when I tackle the stuck points.

My safe place is that river, sunning myself as I float on by the eddies, calm and at peace.

I know the eddies will be a challenge, I will have to follow them one at a time through my developmental stages.

I have an image for this trauma: it’s a portobello mushroom burger.

I will stitch through from the bottom bun (developmental trauma) to the mushroom (sexual trauma) to the top bun which is relational trauma.

I will be stitching the burger with a needle and thread, in my head, the thread is red.

Red, probably because I am angry.

I will turn my poison into medicine and my passion.

I am so much bigger than all of this.

I will cross the river.

What can I just let be?

I grew up in control, dominance, and do, do, do.

The product is someone learning how to be, be, be, and let others be.

Recovery teaches me to live and let live.

I know control is fear-based and when I let go, the possibilities are infinite.

In the early years of my recovery, I focused on minding my own business and keeping my side of the street clean.

I have been confronted in the past few years with the first part of this slogan: live.

What does it mean to live?

When someone isn’t directing my life.

When I cut the strings that tied me to the master puppeteer of my life.

When I stopped running to my dad with everything.

I put my big girl pants on and grew up.

I have been growing up in recovery.

I am an adult child of an alcoholic.

The dichotomy is real.

Responsibilized way too young.

I then went the other way and became irresponsible.

With my life, my values and my body.

What happens when I stop striving and doing?

I can just be and be love.

I do not need to continually keep reaching.

I can rest and just be me.

I have worked hard in recovery, it has changed my life.

My therapist posed the question as to who I would be without this family by choice. If I left, would they still be my people?

I said I would never leave and that I would die if that happened.

I see no other way for me.

I am approaching a big milestone this year.

I did not think I would make it to this age with the way I was living.

Live fast, die young, and leave a good-looking corpse.

Yet here I am, still living.

Living a good life and maybe, just maybe, I need to celebrate that.

Wintering

I am in a season of wintering

I eagerly waited for Mother Nature to deliver her blanket of snow. It finally arrived mid January. A green winter solstice is a strange thing.

Everything is born in darkness.

I am participating in a Witches Year program for the fourth year in a row, in doing so, I have learned to move with the wheel of the year. I have come to a greater appreciation and an ever deepening love of nature’s rhythms.

She has been the place where I go to feel better, ground and come home to myself since I was a child growing up in the woods.

She has held me through joy and pain. I have played in her waters and on her frozen water-formed hills.

Winter is my favorite season.

Sound is blessedly muffled. There is a sparsity to the landscape. A beautiful white winter cloak and the magic of frost-covered windows.

There is a quiet, introverted nature to winter. Where reading a book under a blanket with a hot cup of tea and warm cozy socks is encouraged.

The colder it gets, the more I thrive.

I spent my formative years playing on ski hills. Now I listen to the snow crunch beneath my boots and enjoy the searing cold of a breath of air.

Winter is a time of rest.

A time to go within, to sit quietly in the dark and wait. Insights come when I am still, when I stop and let my body be where my mind is. When I have the time and space to reflect.

I am following nature’s rhythms. Imbolc came and went which means we have crossed the threshold between the winter and spring equinoxes.

The light is slowly returning.

This January feeling

This January feeling is one of hope, of new, fresh beginnings, a blank slate ahead.

How unlike nature humans are.

All around us is dormancy,

Cold expanses of white snow,

Frost-covered vegetation and deep silence.

I love winter for many reasons.

One is the hushed tone it takes,

Sounds are blessedly muffled.

Instead, I listen to the crunch of snow under my boots,

as my footsteps are erased by the winds.

The cold air takes my breath away,

As I huddle deeper into my warm layers.

The wondrous blanket of sparkles left by the sun on the snow,

I could spend hours watching them glisten.

I spent my winters growing up,

Outside facing the elements.

On snow-covered hills,

Travelling at speeds faster than cars.

My home was on the hill.

On the freshly groomed, perfect corduroy,

Of a first tracked run.

Leaving a series of endless

Ss, curves, and curlicues of joy.

Joy, freedom, and expansion

Are what I felt and left on the hill.

I like the harshness of winter,

How tough you have to be to make it through.

Yet nature does, she composts, lets go,

And becomes still and dormant.

The quietude, the cold, the beauty of winter,

Leave me in awe and wonder.

This is my January feeling.

What’s on your list of life-giving tasks?

Boil the water and reach for a nervine nourishing blend: rose, hawthorn berry, tulsi, lemon balm, skullcap, and oat straw, please, please work your magic on my tender heart and fragile nervous system.

Pick up my daily recovery readers and read the pages of the day. My higher power always has a message for me. Sit in quiet and contemplation.

Cue up a meditation and sink into the sweet spot to observe the chatter pass like clouds in the sky until more stillness, more vastness, and peace appear with every breath.

Move my body with a yoga practice, notice how shallow my breathing is and invariably I shift and feel better.

Sit and watch the wondrous seven-limb birch outside my windows as the seasons change. The birds now come to feast on its offerings and I am mesmerized.

Nourish myself with healing, healthy, warm foods according to Ayurvedic traditions. I cannot survive on air alone.

Stop. Many times a day and breathe. Is my head where my feet are? Everything can be a meditation when I am present.

When my mind chatters and turns towards the negative, I say out loud: “Be here now.” Breathe and return to the task at hand.

A nightly gratitude practice keeps me anchored, a practice that I have been doing daily for ten years.

Shifting the ‘I have to’ to “I get to’ is a powerful and intentional practice.

Chats with my Spirit team/higher power/Universe during the day while asking for assistance. Please, please, help me breathe and stay grounded in the present moment and keep me safe in my travels.

Recovery teaches me to ask love/higher power/source what would you have me do today. Take the next step.

Daily movement in nature brings me back home to myself. I slow my pace and pay attention to the beauty around me, my breathing becomes deeper, and I feel better.

When my head hits the pillow at night, I say thank you and ask for protection and a peaceful sleep.

When in doubt, I sip water, slow down, and breathe.

The glimpses of goodness in the world

Despite our world looking like a dumpster fire, I see glimpses of good.

In the school crossing guard who waves at me as I drive by. He spreads joy in our community and I go out of my way to wave back to him. His name is Louis and he is pure sunshine.

In the tremendous work our local food bank is doing in the community. Poverty requires a multi-pronged approach and they are making a difference.

I see glimpses of good in the pysanky egg decorating workshop my best friend is running with proceeds going to Ukraine. The war has been going on for two years with some of the worst bombings since it began happening just before the new year.

In the fundraisers, drives, and efforts of people in my community.

In the GoFundMe fundraiser to help with the loss of a local farmer’s beloved draft horse, Abby. All the work on the farm is powered by the draft horse team. Abby’s draft horse friend, Kenny is grieving and they don’t know how he’ll adjust to retirement.

I see glimpses of good in the efforts of ordinary humans doing extraordinary acts every single day.

In the care and kindness of people who bring injured birds to the local Wild Bird Care Centre.

In the overflowing food bank donation boxes before Christmas.

In someone holding a door open, saying hello and smiling.

I don’t know how to hold the tenderness of the good with the pain of the unthinkably bad.

I can only hope that in the end, light wins over the darkness.

I am holding on to the glimpses of goodness.

Kindness

Something happened at the grocery store tonight.

I have learned with recovery to perform acts of kindness from a place of humility and not ego which means not sharing with others what I have done. However, my heart still aches being the empath that I am.

This man was standing outside the doors with a sign saying he was homeless asking for money.

I brought my groceries to the car and picked up the five dollars I had in spare change and the piece of pizza I had gotten at the bakery earlier and walked back to him.

I do not give money to street people, but something made me turn around.

I asked him how he was doing?

He managed, despite his circumstances, to be positive in a way.

I asked him whether he was hungry, he said he was okay and had a poutine waiting for him in his things.

I asked him where he was sleeping tonight.

He said he was hoping to get thirty-three dollars to stay in a pension where he could get two meals a day for three nights.

I asked him how much money he had and what the alternative was.

He said he had he had seven dollars and if he didn’t have enough, he’d sleep in a bus shelter.

It’s going to be -25 tonight.

I said “no” and went back to my car to grab a twenty.

He said thank you very much with hope on his face.

I asked him where his things were.

He said the priest from one of the churches nearby let him keep his things in the salt box

The salt box.

I asked him why he wasn’t staying in the shelter. I knew there had been a fire and they had a tent city for the homeless in the parking lot of the arena in Hull.

“He said ma’am you don’t want to know what happens there.”

I waited while he answered.

He said the shelter has gone up in flames twice and there have been fires in the camp because people are heating with propane. Every other day the police shut down the camp because they find needles.

I asked about the poutine.

He said a man had bought him the poutine. He said he would heat it up in the microwave and it was the good kind with the real cheese curds and a brown sauce. He was happy when he told me this.

He was missing two dollars so I went back into the grocery store and bought a small item to get cash back.

When I came back outside with my money, he wasn’t there anymore so I thought maybe someone had given him the two dollars.

He said he had been looking forward to a hot chocolate tonight to warm up.

I spotted him as I was heading out and double parked to give him the missing two dollars.

He was skinny with missing teeth and yet he looked me straight in the eyes and told me the truth.

He said: “Thank you, love.”

I said go on now and get warm.

My heart broke.

I am crying.

I have just said a prayer for him.

He still had a light in him despite everything.

I wish I had asked him his name.

No one should sleep in a bus shelter at -25 or go hungry.

I am counting my blessings.

I want, I want, I want

What I want to achieve cannot be measured in outward accomplishments deemed by society as a measure of success.

I want to feel safe and at home in my body.

I want to be able to breathe fully instead of holding my breath.

I want to feel like I matter, not because of what I have accomplished but because of who I am.

I want to continue to find moments of peace and serenity I have worked hard to find in recovery.

I want to seek out and find more delight.

I want to remember that I have made a difference and continue to do so just by being.

I want to laugh more and let go more easily.

I want to play more and have fun.

I want to continue loving my people as fiercely as I have and be loved in return.

I want to continue to give back what was so freely given to me in recovery.

I want to continue being honest and a person of integrity who walks her talk.

I want to be softer instead of being hard on myself.

I want to give myself grace instead of pushing myself.

I want more compassion towards myself and less judgement.

I want to love myself fully, completely, and with abandon.

I want to be satisfied with what is instead of wanting more.

I want to be fully and wholeheartedly me.

When the darkness comes

I have been itching to write and encountering resistance in writing this post which is a first for me.

Why?

Because the subject matter hurts and because society loves ta-da moments. Ta-da, I went through this horrible event and now I am magically healed. Healing takes time, requires effort and a lot of patience. Healing is not something that happens overnight, it is not a ta-da moment.

I have written many posts here on resurfacing after the darkness comes. This time I have changed my focus to what happens during the dark time.

I believe it is important to document and share my journey through the dark times. After all, as I have learned in recovery, we are only as sick as our secrets.

I have been diagnosed with major depressive disorder, which means I go through a couple of depressions a year. I call them the dark times.

Unfortunately, I slid into one again in mid August. I took a couple of days off to go camping, I ended up cancelling my trip due to the weather and instead rested. I slept for 10 hours each day along with a two hour nap. Exhausted, I had been more emotional than usual leading up to this point and teary.

I have come to realize I pack a lot of living into the bright times because I never know how long they will last. I sleep less, I live more and I eventually exhaust myself.

This pattern has been operating for 28 years since profound sexual trauma happened. In that time, I have felt like I have lived half a life. 28 years with an average of two lows a year means 56 episodes of depression. When the psychologist who diagnosed me shared her findings this spring, I burst into tears, no wonder I am tired.

A part of me wonders if I cause these dark times with my thinking. I have a very strong mind and wonder at its power to cause me to slide into the darkness. I cast myself back to what I was thinking both in the spring and fall.

My body always speaks my mind. I had eczema appear under my eyes a year ago due to not feeling safe at work. According to the wisdom of Louise Hay, the probable cause is breath taking antagonism and mental eruptions. Eyes represent the capacity to see clearly. My absences and mental health condition are documented. Every time I take an unplanned absence, I need to provide a doctor’s note. There is a fee associated to this along with a tremendous amount of anger.

This summer my beloved familiar was incredibly sick. My beautiful Tabby cat developed a thyroid storm where all her systems started shutting down. I could have lost her, fortunately I got her to the vet quickly when her hind legs started to not function properly. Having never seen this condition before, the vet was able to consult with a veterinarian who specializes in internal medicine to determine the problem. Tabby feeds off my energy. The thyroid represents humiliation according to Louise Hay.

I am a fighter. Nothing pisses me off more than injustice, perceived or real. I get the need to document an employee’s absences, however, there is a way where it can be compassionately done. I came back to work after three days of absolute hell only to have my absence documented yet again. This time I lost it, every other time I have swallowed it.

I swore and raised my voice, neither of which were appreciated. I sat and breathed but not before I gave my team leader a piece of my mind. Signed the paper and left for a one hour rage fueled walk. I came back calm and got back to work. My familiar is my child. She is my family and the tether that keeps me here when things get dark. A line was drawn in the sand. Enough is enough.

I cannot work in a place where “operational requirements” are more important than people. I feel persecuted. I am good at what I do when I am well. I enjoy my work even though it is complex and hard, I help people all day long which has been an important through line for me. I learn every day and I have colleagues who are friends.

I am tired of having the burden to educate management on my mental health condition. I explain and ask people not to startle me amongst other things. I have sent all of them a fact sheet on post traumatic stress disorder. I am tired of not being paid my worth. This job fell into my lap when I desperately needed one and for that I am grateful. I also know I have choices and I do not have to drive myself off a cliff. I have a history of staying in jobs which make me unwell.

I tried to go back to work after a week of being off on sick leave in August. The fog I felt, the inability to focus and the tears that were ever present made it impossible to do more than a third of my usual capacity. I was met with compassion and well supported that day by the other team lead. I am grateful for his understanding, presence and willingness to help me. I was honest and shared my dual diagnosis from the spring and that I was on a wait list to access trauma therapy.

I have grown through the personal development and healing work I have done to get myself back to work. I have tackled hard issues which hurt to look at, I have taken responsibility and apologized when I crossed the line. I have a 12 step program which means I need to maintain my hard fought for integrity and hold myself to a higher standard.

I believe the sick leave I am now on to do trauma therapy work, as hard as it is, will be fruitful. As a dear friend reminded me, I come out of these dark times with a higher vibration, having learned important lessons and move forward.

I have waited a long time to tackle these Pandora’s boxes properly. I have been in and out of counselors’ and psychologists’ offices since I was 16 years old. I am tired of talk therapy. If I could think myself out of anxiety and depression, I would.

The developmental, sexual and relational trauma I have experienced live in my body. Their echoes can be felt in a myriad of ways. Bottom-up processing or somatic work needs to be done. I am in a stabilization phase at the clinic and about to undergo a 12 week trauma therapy protocol with eye movement desensitization reprocessing (EMDR) therapy. This therapy has great outcomes for post traumatic stress disorder.

I waited for over a hundred days once I was properly diagnosed to access this therapy. I am well supported at the clinic. I leaned into the nurse that was assigned to me when things went sideways. I made a safety plan with her when my mind skittered to that familiar place. Ever since the rape, my mind has gone there when the pain gets to be too much and I cannot see light at the end of the tunnel.

I remember when it happened this time, I pushed myself too hard that day and felt hopeless. I immediately reached out to a friend who lives nearby and talked it out with her. She became the person I asked for help, to go for a walk or to help me with my yard when I became overwhelmed.

The anxiety and depression paralyzed me. It was hard to get out of bed. I forced myself to eat when I had no hunger. I became a hermit and forced myself out to get groceries when it was the last place I wanted to be. I clung to the temporary help of an employee assistance counsellor who helped me remember to be mindful. That every moment can be mindful, to focus on my senses in the tasks that I was doing in order to get myself out of my head and back into my body. I showered, got dressed and sat outside in my yard as much as I could with Tabby and let Mother Nature wash over me.

I worked on breathing strategies with the nurse who checked in weekly. I worked on the 5-4-3-2-1 method, what are five things I can see, hear, feel, smell and taste to bring me back into my body. I worked on a leaves on the stream exercise where I can put my thoughts on a leaf and watch it go down the stream.

I leaned into bodily practices of meditation, yoga and nervous system regulation course work with my beloved teachers. Meditation teaches me I am not my thoughts and I am not my feelings and creates a space to observe and soothe both. I remembered the tools to regulate my nervous system, the humming, the squeezing of containment muscles and the butterfly taps along with movement.

I kept showing up at online program meetings and events, filling my soul with the much needed wisdom that is found in the rooms. My capacity to work with both my sponsor and sponsee was reduced and that is okay. Recovery has its own ebbs and flows.

I keep reaching out, I keep trying to help myself and I keep doing my best to live, even when the darkness comes.

I will not let my light snuff itself out.

Ten years

It’s hard to believe I’ve been in recovery for ten years.

Ten years.

How I have grown.

In ways big and small, I have tools for living life on life’s terms.

When I came into the rooms, I was broken physically, mentally and spiritually.

I had a torn achilles tendon and was in a walking boot. Miserable, in a trauma bond with another adult child and at my wit’s end.

Fast forward ten years, I handle myself differently in relationships. No longer afraid of being alone and desperate for love, I can discern what is good and not for me now.

I have also started my journey in another 12 step recovery program. It was my ex who said he liked the idea of being in love. It was a penny drop moment for me.

I am now a member of sex, love addicts anonymous.

Some of the characteristics I identify with are: we confuse love with neediness, physical and sexual attraction, pity and/or the need to rescue or be rescued. We become immobilized or seriously distracted by romantic or sexual obsessions or fantasies. We assign magical qualities to others. We idealize and pursue them, then blame them for not fulfilling our fantasies and expectations.

Fantasy land is a place I am familiar with in my relationships with men. It takes me no time to construct the perfect fantasy of what our life will look like together. I obsess and make them my main focus.

I know I need to keep the focus where it belongs, which is on me.

I am grateful to be a single definition in human design which means I am content to be on my own. It helps explain how I have been single in some shape or form for the past eight years. I like the company I keep and am very discriminating when it comes to who I allow in.

As another potential man bites the dust because I called him out on something, I find myself so very tired of trying to find someone. Back to dating my higher power.

Life on life’s terms, I guess.

Another one bites the dust

My short-term relationship went down in flames after a couple of weeks in June.

How do you tell if people are healed?

Tell them whatever this is, isn’t going to work and wait for their response.

After realizing the person I was seeing had some troubling mental health issues, I called it quits. I felt he needed to focus on healing and do some therapy and I wasn’t feeling anything after a week and a half of trying.

The other shoe dropped, proverbially and literally.

I was blamed for choices this guy made and all of a sudden, all the little things that had gone by unmentioned were brought up for my face to be shoved in.

He then proceeded to tell me he had been so desperate to be in relationship that he was willing to put up with my various misdemeanors.

Thanks, but no thanks.

I don’t want to be with someone who is desperate to be in a relationship, that reeks of codependency. Grow a backbone and speak your truth and don’t blame me for your choices.

I had to ask him to stop texting me. I had to block him after that didn’t work.

Whatever happened to thanks for a nice time and all the best which is what I wished him.

Moving on.

I went on a date shortly afterwards with a nice guy who was way too busy.

I like busy. Have a life, hobbies and activities, please.

I don’t think I want to live with whomever I plan to be in relationship with. I like my space. I don’t mind the person visiting as long as they leave after a few days.

I am also a fan on unconventional relationships.

Live in another city? Great, I’m in.

I have been single in some shape or form for the past eight years.

That is a long time.

I have done a tremendous amount of healing work to get myself into a better place and I expect the same. I have even written this as a requirement in my online dating profiles.

Sadly, I have yet to meet someone who has done the same.

Where is my person?

Why is the Universe not delivering them to me?

Signed: patiently waiting.

Hope floats

I have some catching up to do here.

I want to talk about the big anniversary I am celebrating in recovery but found this next topic too irresistible not to share.

I have recently met someone and it is causing me some unease.

I wrote down what I was looking for in a potential partner a while ago.

The usual suspects of kindness, a desire to grow and learn and someone who inspires me were on the list.

Well it feels like I have called a version of that in and I am not quite sure what to do with it all.

Turns out I am uneasy with ease. Go figure.

My past relationships have been filled with struggle, fighting and pursuing and the roller coaster that goes along with that.

This relationship is filled with calm and ease. It is deeply uncomfortable for me to wrap my head around.

I am sitting with it and doing my best to go with the flow and let things unfold as they are meant to.

It has been a lovely few days with this man accompanied with many conversations with friends.

Turns out I am not the only one who struggles with ease.

Maybe it’s a hallmark of codependency but I am waiting for the other shoe to drop, not quite believing this is a real or will last. That thinking is so messed up but it’s what I know and have lived.

I need to have compassion for myself and go easy, sit back, relax and enjoy.

Easier said than done.

I am determined not to sabotage this because it is what I have been waiting for but it is challenging to sit with the good.

What am I going to do if I don’t have to fix or change someone?

I need to sit with the unease, be gentle with myself and enjoy the moments as they come.

Wish me luck.

Resurfacing

I have been quiet here.

I am resurfacing after another low.

This time I reached out for help. The process started in December when I approached Veterans Affairs to open a case file with them for support. I was sent to the Royal Ottawa Operational Stress Injury Clinic for an intake, assessment and diagnosis along with possible therapy.

It has been a journey.

I have been diagnosed with major depressive syndrome which is characterized by cyclical lows along with something called other trauma related disorder which is an offshoot of PTSD. It means my symptoms are not as pronounced which is good news.

Eye movement desensitization and reprocessing therapy (EMDR) along with trauma related therapy are recommended. I start EMDR today.

I am hopeful and looking forward to seeing improvements.

During my assessment, the psychologist asked me how many times I had struggled with depression. I go through lows two or three times a year. Tally that up over 25 years and the final number is staggering. No wonder I am tired. I burst into tears at the realization.

I cannot say enough about the assessment I had. It was over the course of five hours, I answered the psychologist’s questions and what felt like all the questionnaires. I have had two follow-up sessions since to go over the report. It is very thorough.

It has to be, given that benefits are an outcome of the diagnosis.

I have been home on sick leave for the past three months and am finally feeling strong enough to return to work.

I am going to share some of the strategies that helped me get through the low this time.

My best friend suggested I set daily goals for myself. This helped me tremendously, even if the goals were eating, showering and sitting outside for some fresh air. All goals, no matter how small, were recorded in my agenda. This exercise was very satisfying and gave me a sense of direction.

Daily meditation. I cannot emphasize enough the importance of this practice for me. Every day, I sit for twenty minutes to a guided meditation. It has been life changing for me. I have been doing this practice for over a year now and am grateful.

Yoga. Three yoga classes a week have helped me connect with others when all I wanted to do was isolate myself. They have helped my body and mind be in the present moment.

Attending meetings. Going to program meetings continues to be a lifeline for me. I attend two a week virtually.

Friends. I have stayed in touch with close friends, even though it took effort. My daily connections with my people have strengthened and supported me. I am grateful for them.

Within six to eight weeks I started pulling out of the low. It takes a lot for me to do this. It is hard and I wonder every time whether I can do it.

Here I am on the other side of this low, feeling better and grateful for the tools that have kept me going.

There is always light at the end of every tunnel, you just need to hold on.

As a saying in my recovery program goes: HOPE stands for hold on, pain ends.

Musings

I have been quiet here.

Wrapped in winter’s coat, dreaming and resting.

We have crossed Imbolc, the midpoint between the winter solstice and the spring equinox.

The wheel of the year is marching towards spring. The days are getting longer and the light is slowly returning.

The past two months have been a blur but what stands out is injury.

I have fallen not once but three times now.

Accidents according to Louise Hay represent an inability to speak up for the self. Rebellion against authority and a belief in violence. It paints a picture of how I feel at work.

I attribute my falls to work. In fact two of the three have happened in and around my workplace. One the result of icy sidewalks, I went into full warrior pose and down hard on a knee. The other on freshly mopped floors which resulted in a bruised sit bone. The third and hopefully last fall happened a week ago.

I came off the ski hill and was elated after my first time on snow this winter only to fall in the parking lot on ice. This time I bruised or cracked a rib. It is one of the most painful injuries I have had to endure.

Sneezing, coughing and deep inhalations hurt. The twisting motion of getting in and out of bed is deeply uncomfortable and slow. I find myself holding my ribs and holding myself together while I unravel.

I have been actively looking for work since the end of November. I applied and interviewed for what I thought was the perfect job for me. An organization that does research and provides support to veterans affected by PTSD and their families was looking for a communications professional with lived experience. I eagerly applied and was selected for an interview.

The interview was fun, easy and felt great.

On the day I fell I also found out I was not selected for a second round of interviews.

I was a hot mess that night. In pain and tears barely holding it together.

I have been upset since. I do not understand what my Higher Power wants for me. The job I am in is untenable. It takes everything I have to shore myself up daily just to make it through the day. The work itself and my coworkers are good, it’s the environment that is toxic.

I keep working my program to the best of my abilities daily.

As my bestie wisely reminded me, I have done everything I can to make this job work. It simply does not align with my values or energy.

I had a long chat with my sponsor about it last night. Normally, I would be at peace with a decision about an opportunity not being meant to be but this one smarts. My sponsor suggested that maybe there are more lessons to be learned in the job I am in.

I continue my search for meaningful work that feels life giving and affirming.

I am grateful I get to work with young ski racers again this winter. The mental training work I do with them fills my cup, and makes my heart and soul sing. I am honored to be on their journey for a little while.

I continue to do a tremendous amount of service work in my recovery. I give back what was so freely given to me.

A few months ago I would have been content knowing I had two other areas I could put my energy into that feel life affirming.

That thinking has since shifted. The Universe forces me once again to pay attention.

This has happened in the past, when I was stuck in a trauma bond, the Universe decided my Achilles tendon needed to be severed so I could stop pushing, forcing and trying to move forward.

I feel like there is a little history repeating.

My first thought after the falls was what I had been thinking right before they happened. Accidents are no accident.

I sit here knowing I am worthy of better work where I am valued and compensated accordingly.

I will keep doing the actions and leaving it all in my Higher Power’s hands. It’s what recovery has taught me to do.

Every day my ribs heal and I feel a little better which gives me hope.

Hope for better.

Winter solstice

As we approach winter solstice, the conception point of a new year in the turn of the wheel in the Witches Year, I am in deep reflection, rest and quietude.

We have moved through the dark season which started at Samhain, or All Hallows Eve, my favorite night of the year when the veils to the ancestors are at their thinnest. The archetype for the dark season is Antigua or the crone, the wise elder. The one who holds the weight of our lived experience. The dark season is a period of shedding, a sloughing off of skins that no longer serve us and of letting go.

We need to let go otherwise we cannot have an empty hand to receive as the season of deep winter starts. Deep winter’s archetype is the newborn, or Femella which translates to having a beginner’s mind, to be open to possibility, to experience the world as new and to purposefully try new things.

The question I ponder at this time of year is what can I do to honor who I am?

Christmas or Yule is a busy, cheery and expansive season or at least, that is the image that society projects. For others, it is fraught with lack, sorrow and grief.

Those two dualities can co-exist.

I can hold both tremendous amounts of gratitude for all that I have: a roof over my head, running water, heat and a fridge with food. I can be grateful for my health and for my familiar, Tabby cat. I am grateful for a family of origin who did their best, especially at this time of year.

Christmas was a massive production in my childhood home. My dad’s Quebecois family came to gather in our home, aunts, uncles and grandparents gathering around good food and celebration. Beautiful decorations, gifts, and winter activities such as skiing together or skating on the pond my father iced on our property. My parents hit Christmas out of the park when my brother and I were kids. So many happy memories.

Those happy memories are what cause a tinge of grief associated with this time of year for me.

My family is gathering for my parents’ 50th wedding anniversary year in the Bahamas and I have chosen not to go. I made the decision earlier this summer after a brief visit with my parents in the spring that left me feeling hurt, angry and sad once again.

I have learned in recovery not to put myself around, people, places or things that will trigger me, and cause hurt feelings and possibly a slip in my recovery. I need to protect my sanity, peace and serenity at all costs. At all costs.

Which means I am not spending Christmas with my family of origin.

I will not go into details in this post about my one and only trip to the Bahamas ten years ago to spend time with my family but suffice it to say it was traumatic. It was before I had found recovery and I had no tools. I cried all the way home on the plane and at Pearson airport, feverishly writing in a journal wanting to get it all out before I came home.

I will not put myself in a place to be hurt like that ever again.

One of the hallmarks of my disease is magical thinking. That somehow, I walk into a holiday situation with family thinking that this year it will be different. This year somehow by the grace of all that is holy, my family will be healthy, loving and kind.

What a mind fuck that is and a deep, deep fallacy.

I heard a statistic thrown out around American thanksgiving that 50 to 60% percent of people did not want to spend the holiday with their family. Then why put yourself through it all?

I have learned in recovery that I have choices, I can change my mind and my choices will auto correct my path.

I used to be indecisive, say yes when my whole body said no and wanted to people please.

That is no longer the case, this version of me listens to her body when I get caught between my head and my heart. If my body is calm around a decision, a person, a place or a thing then it’s a green light. If not, I leave and pull myself out of situations that affect me negatively.

As a sensitive and an empath, I have no choice.

I have learned to ground myself and clean my energetic field. I am a bubble girl, the bubble is now rainbow colored and permeable. I used to live behind walls, it’s a very lonely experience and it gets dark and musty. Recovery has helped me see the light and the necessity to allow safe people in because I trust myself enough to take care of myself.

I do not need to have anyone have my back because I have my back. Instead I choose to be friends and to create a small, close circle and family by choice. I appreciate the love, support and care I give and receive in that space.

Writing those words is huge.

Loving myself? Trusting myself? Knowing I have me?

Huge.

These are some of the gifts spoken about in recovery if you do the healing work.

Yesterday, I sat down with my beloved Witches Year teacher and others through Zoom and we did a ritual with 12 tealights and one pillar candle. It is my third time around the wheel of the year and I have yet to fully embody this winter solstice practice as much as I have this year.

The ritual started with 12 blessings I have been grateful for since Samhain or the dark season last year. I lit a candle for each one. I felt the joy, gratitude and love in my heart. Then I went through 12 losses or griefs I have had over the year. I blew out a tealight for each one. I felt the pain, the sadness and the grief, my heart was heavy. In the third piece, I spoke aloud of 12 blessings I wish for the people I love. My heart filled with hope and peace. Finally, I lit the pillar in the center of the tealights.

The lit pillar represents the qualities I wish to embody in this new year in the turn of the wheel.

I want to embody love, peace, hope, possibility and happiness.

I am sitting with the candle every morning in ritual from now to the beginning of February as the days grow longer. Fully embodying those values and really feeling them deep in my bones and soul.

What rituals do you practice at this time of year that fill your cup?

Winter solstice blessings to all.

Live and let live

Live and let live is a slogan in recovery.

The words often tug at my sleeve and make me ponder about how well do I live?

I used to pack a lot of living into the years I was in active addiction. Live fast, die young and leave a good-looking corpse was my motto. I was selfish, self-centered, and self-seeking. Self will run riot.

Since I have found recovery, my life has changed for the better, however, I am not sure how well I truly live.

I have been confronted with this notion yet again because of the man I met.

Letting others live is a lesson I have learned the hard way. Opportunities keep presenting themselves for me to be tested as to how well I can let go.

My brother and I spoke recently, we rarely do, unless I reach out or he needs something. It was nice to catch up. I listened as program has taught me to do while he unpacked his life. The next day I felt the need to reach out ask if he wanted feedback.

Program has taught me not to give unsolicited advice.

He declined my offer and yet I still felt the need to share a story that I thought might help.

As my sponsor recently reminded me, sharing our stories with others is a form of control. I saw it with the chef, my sharing was going to be a beacon of light for him somehow and effect change. Instead, I can share my story when I am asked in the rooms of my program.

Live.

Something awoke in me when I was with this man, a desire and hunger for living.

The year has been heavy with loss, mental health challenges and hard lessons. I want to go into the last few days of the year with the wonder of a child, open to possibility with hope and love in my heart.

These past few weeks I have been truly living, filling my cup with the people and activities that make my heart sing.

I can thank him for the spark.

How do you want the last few days of this year to play out?

Set your intentions, take action and watch them come to life.

Reflections on 2022

It has been a year hasn’t it?

I sat last night in a candlelight circle with my people in recovery reflecting on three things that I am grateful for this year.

A job that landed in my lap through connections in February when I was desperate to find work after being off for a year healing from injury.

Being put under performance review in April triggered a series of actions that led me to go on sick leave for four months to deal with post-traumatic stress disorder.

I have learned in recovery that acceptance is a process. Two years ago an addictions counselor and I had gone over the PTSD markers and it was plain as day that I suffered from it. Yet I wasn’t ready to accept any of it.

I now have come to peace with it all.

I have done a searching and fearless moral inventory of my behaviors in all my work experiences and have pulled out the gems that stem from my family of origin.

Over giving, overachieving, insufficient support, a lack of boundaries, problems with authority, controlling and defensiveness, and a lack of trust.

Instead, now I have boundaries, I do my best on any given day, I seek guidance, and I surrender and trust myself. When I get triggered, instead of pointing my fingers at someone else, I look at myself and where I need to grow.

It is easier said than done, it takes practice and time to undo old patterns of behaviour.

Awareness, acceptance and action.

One of my first sponsors in recovery pointed out that I flew from awareness to action without accepting and my actions, as a result, were misguided.

I have learned to sit with myself when I get deeply triggered because in the end it will lead to yet another opportunity for growth. Instead of reaching outside myself for something or someone to soothe me and distract me from my pain.

Love, sex, food, shopping, exercise, alcohol and other people are all really good distractions and I have done them all.

I will be in recovery for life because I know how easily I can slip back into old patterns.

The third experience I am grateful for is the person I met just before Scorpio season began. On the tail end of Libra season, I slipped back into the tender underbelly of a scorpion. Scorpio cuts to the heart of the matter. I was tested yet again in my knowing, beliefs and love.

I knew deep down how this relationship would play out.

I chose to ignore that and instead slip back into using. I was tired of being in pain and grieving and I wanted to have someone worship my body because I knew it would be spectacular between us.

I now know with sobriety that I need a monogamous relationship when dating before sex happens.

Sex stands for sacred energy exchange. I love myself enough to know I will not settle for anything less than love making.

To do otherwise leads to a truckload of pain, and a lack of emotional sobriety, I obsess and the person becomes my singular focus. My life gets harder, not easier and the relationship becomes something I have to survive and not thrive in.

I need to remember who is at the top of my triangle. Not people, places or things but Spirit and that divine energy that exists and holds me. When I lose track of that, my precious and hard worked for peace and serenity are gone.

I have no regrets. What I saw in this person, was me prior to finding recovery.

What a mind fuck and a gift.

I do not often see how far I have come from the Natalie that entered the rooms almost ten years ago.

Broken physically, mentally and spiritually, in a walking cast, desperate to find something to hold onto.

I came home, to my people and to myself through recovery.

I keep recovering the pieces of me that were lost along the way. I grow up through recovery and learn coping skills that serve me better than the ones that kept me safe. I learn tools for living. I learn love, both for myself and others. Service in recovery has changed my life, I keep giving back what was so freely given to me and the richness I am rewarded with is immeasurable.

Having done the review of my year, I am reflecting on how I want my year to end.

I want love, peace and possibility.

What about you?

The difference between chemistry and compatibility

The chef I dated taught me some important lessons.

He is definitely off the pedestal I placed him on and my rose colored glasses have been removed.

I have had space and time to reflect.

What we had was chemistry and not compatibility. That heady, butterflies in your belly feeling. The desire and chemistry we had could be cut with a knife.

The need to chase a love that was not chasing me.

Yeah thanks, but no thanks.

He did me a favor by not seeing anything beyond a short term love affair between us.

I deserve so much more, which he also agreed with.

Chalk it up to an age difference and being at different points in our lives.

I have also decided it is going to be a deal breaker for me to get involved with someone with addiction problems moving forward. I cannot go down that rabbit hole again. My precious, hard worked for sanity and serenity need to be protected at all costs.

I realize the grief I felt when things ended between us came to hit a deep vein of abandonment that I can trace back to my family of origin. That is a core wound for me and one I am actively working on in recovery. I will not abandon myself in the arms of men who do not reciprocate my feelings.

If it is hysterical, it is historical.

I know I am an empath, a sensitive and feel deeply but the pain I felt went beyond him.

I can thank him for both the beauty and the pain. The gratitude and the grief I felt so deeply with him. The calm and joy too.

When I meet men I ask them what their top five values are, their love languages and their attachment style.

I did none of that with this man.

I was hungry and full of desire instead.

As my sponsor reminded me, believe them when they tell you the truth. Such a simple statement but also a very profound one.

What is it with me that I try and convince someone to love me who doesn’t? The act of performing echoes my childhood.

As I am writing these words I see the relationship with the first man in my life emerge. My father, emotionally unavailable, a workaholic and yet the man who raised me to the best of his abilities and was also limited whom I love dearly.

The patterns from our childhoods hold all the keys to our patterning in relationships, work and life.

The work to unpack, process and heal is the hard part. Not everyone chooses to do so.

Let’s talk about compatibility shall we?

Compatibility is about shared values, wanting the same life goals such as having kids or not, where to live in either the country or the city, and what your careers will look like and how they mesh.

Very practical, head related decisions.

Early in my healing journey, I was told that the journey between the head and the heart is the longest one to travel. I was in my head and did not know or want to feel my dark feelings. It took a lot of work to unpack the pain, anger, sadness, shame, and grief. Once that heavy lifting had been done, I was able to lift the weight of the world I carried on my shoulders. I was also able to feel happiness, love, joy, and peace.

I still do the work to unpack the feelings that come up and trace them back to where they started when I get triggered. I go in and comfort my inner child and give her all the love she so richly deserves. That leads to integrity, to wholeness and to peace because I am in alignment.

My head and heart were at odds in this relationship.

I had to go to my gut for the answer. I knew deep down from the beginning what this would look like, however, I believe in hope and possibility and in the best in people. I also believe people are impacted and can change by others if they are willing. It is not my job to drag anyone into the light but instead to honor the person and give them the grace and dignity to figure out what works best for them.

I spent a lot of time when I was grieving in my lungs which is where grief is processed according to Traditional Chinese Medecine.

One inhalation and one exhalation at a time, I have moved through grief once more.

I know everyone comes into my life for a reason and I am grateful to this man for the mirror and lessons learned.

I am getting closer and closer to what it is I am looking for in a partner, I can feel it.

Isn’t that beautiful?

Surrendering

It’s been a month since this gift of a man walked into my life.

We are similar in that when we know what we want, we go after it.

I have learned in recovery that life gives us what we need not what we want.

The story picks up where I left off in my last post.

Being stood up.

I have learned in recovery that I do not have to accept unacceptable behavior. There was plenty of it.

When I date, I am singular in my focus. I don’t have the bandwidth to date more than one guy at a time.

Before recovery there was no such commitment, instead, there was a constant stream of men. If I did not know how to end things with one, I’d get involved with another. I too have done my share of unacceptable behavior. My work now in recovery is to make a living amends by doing no harm.

I received an apology via text the next day. He tried calling which I ignored until I wrote my first blog post about him and sent it to him. To me that was the end of things.

He read the post, loved it, wanted to see me and make it up to me.

I was stunned.

I have been taught in recovery to keep an open mind so we talked. He had been at an event during the day, ingested too much free alcohol, and did not want to subject me to seeing him in that state which I appreciate. He could have just said that.

After he made an amends, I softened again.

We spent Halloween or Samhain together. One of my favorite nights where the veils are at their thinnest and the ancestors are present.

He brought flowers and was on his best behavior. As delighted as I was, I was also wary.

As a recovering people pleaser, I was a chameleon and shapeshifter. I could be whatever you wanted me to be. I was not safe because no one ever knew me.

Two days of pull followed and then I felt the push happen again.

I used to do that over and over again. The behavior is fear based.

I learned self-hatred before I learned self-love. I grew up feeling unwanted. I didn’t value myself or my body and I went looking for love in all the wrong places. If something good came along, I had no idea what to do with it so I would sabotage it.

Again, he had decided that despite the magic, he wasn’t feeling it.

In our opening at program meetings, it says something along the lines of: “our thinking becomes distorted by trying to force solutions, and we became irritable and unreasonable without knowing it.”

I knew what I wanted so I went after it and played the card I knew he could not resist.

I suggested we become friends with benefits. I wasn’t ready to let go.

Sex stands for sacred energy exchange. We are so connected in bed, it’s beautiful and good. There is an energy there I have yet to feel with anyone else.

I can say I am no longer built the way I was when I was in active addiction. I will always want more. I deserve it.

I was not in a good place the following day.

My best friend and I spoke. Her words were along the lines of this man has told you he doesn’t see a relationship with you and you keep hoping for more. It’s a recipe for heartbreak.

There was a reading about accepting love in one of my daily program readers last week that hit me hard. It spoke about working too hard to make relationships work; those relationships didn’t have a chance because the other person was unavailable or refused to participate. I have been there over and over in relationships.

Doing all the work in relationships is not loving, giving or caring. It is self-defeating and relationship defeating. It enables the other person to be irresponsible for their share. Because that does not meet our needs, we ultimately feel victimized.

We can learn to participate a reasonable amount, then let the relationship find its own life. The reading went on to pose the following questions. Are we doing all the initiating? Are we doing all the giving? Are we the one talking about feelings and striving for intimacy?

Are we doing all the waiting, the hoping, the work?

We can let go. If the relationship is meant to be, it will be, and it will become what it is meant to be. We do not help that process by trying to control it. We do not help ourselves, the other person, or the relationship by trying to force it or by doing all the work.

Let it be. Wait and see. Stop worrying about making it happen. See what happens and strive to understand if that is what you want.

Those last few words echo in my head.

What happens if I surrender? If I choose the path of least resistance?

Whatever was meant to be, will be.

The Universe brought he and I together for a reason. There are so many silver linings.

I was able to open myself up and live into this experience. To love and let someone love and care for me. To feel the vastness of my emotions. To meet someone as amazing as this man. To feel the most magical connection I have ever felt with a man in my life. To be so in tune with one another that we finish each other’s sentences. To see myself reflected so clearly in him and how far I’ve come.

It is a miracle given my history that any of this happened and I am so grateful.

What a beautiful gift.

The story continues

Finding the words to write has been a challenge.

I am still very much wrapped up in the experience of my previous post.

Part of me doesn’t want to talk about things just yet. The other part of me knows that writing has always been therapeutic for me.

My meditation practice teaches me that I need to be flexible and flow with life. Life is like riding waves versus standing on solid ground. Not easy for someone who wants stability more than anything.

That stability needs to come from within. It’s the one I cultivate through meditation and recovery. It’s the home I’ve created inside myself. It’s been a journey to come home to myself and to like it there.

I used to be a hungry ghost, lost to addiction. I had no sense of who I was, what I liked, or where I ended in relationships. I always felt alone, othered, and displaced. I was always looking for someplace that felt like home. I needed to find that home within myself.

It’s easy for me to stray from home, instead I need to cultivate the practices that bring me back into my body. That’s where I find the peace and serenity that is promised in recovery if I do the work.

I lost my serenity when I got involved with this man. My thinking was obsessive and my thoughts inevitably led to him. I was grateful for work so I could focus my attention elsewhere.

I decided to put space between us because I knew what this attraction between us was. It felt heady and intense, like an addiction. I needed to withdraw so I could think clearly.

That space lasted five days. Despite my best efforts, I could not stop thinking of him.

Turns out, he was doing the same.

We spoke and his persistence won me over. He had been doing some thinking and wanted to see me again.

Once again, the decision to get together felt calm in my body.

We had a great time. We can talk for hours, it’s easy and effortless. We connect on a whole other level, which I cherish and have not felt before. When we are in tune, we finish each other’s sentences.

There is much more to this connection than addiction, there is also magic.

We are dynamite in bed. I feel cared for and looked after, more in tune with anyone than I have ever been. It’s easy there too.

When it’s good, it’s good.

Then, it’s not and that’s when the push happens.

Reality settles in. We go back into our brains and find all the reasons why this won’t work.

I see right through him because he could be me. I would have run when I was lost in my addiction if anyone did the same.

There is this energetic chord between us. I can feel him pulling at my sleeve. It’s not something I can easily explain but it tugs at me.

Then the pull of him starts.

I felt it in the middle of a grocery store. Things got hot and heavy over text and I could not focus to save my life. Once it was over I was left with this searing desire. It was all I could think about.

I have been in that place before. I was a married man’s mistress for four years and that was exactly what it felt like. It was never about the sex, it was the high of the desire that kept me coming back for more. He was my drug of choice and I could not get enough.

Breaking that cycle was one of the toughest things I have ever done. I had started my healing journey by then and felt strong and supported enough to do so.

We talked about getting together once again.

Instead, he stood me up.

I was angry and hurt. He had suddenly made things easy for me.

Anger, used well, is a force to move me out of situations.

After speaking with friends that night, I slept better than I had since I met him. I woke up feeling peaceful again.

The story continues and more will be revealed.

Stay tuned.

A mirror, cracked

This post has been percolating for a while.

I have felt too embodied and wrapped up in the experience to find the words to write. I am still processing what happened. I feel the wisps of fog around me and cannot see everything clearly just yet.

This post is an attempt to make sense of things.

I ventured back into the dating world recently and met someone pretty special.

Our connection was magic. I have not felt anything like it before.

It’s funny how the Universe presents you with people who are mirrors for you. We could be two sides of the same coin. I have yet to meet someone who is so similar to me, it was uncanny.

He reminded me of who I used to be before I found recovery.

A man with addiction issues, whose addictions have simply switched. I saw right through him and I get him because it could be me.

He has done all sorts of spiritual healing to deal with his addiction. I did the same and it wasn’t enough. I am in recovery and continue to do the spiritual healing work and I still struggle.

That’s the power of addiction, it’s cunning, baffling and powerful. And still very much alive in me.

It’s why I know I will be in recovery for the rest of my life.

I saw myself over and over again in him. I used to play soccer and go for long rides on my bike. I used exercise in an attempt to evacuate what I felt. He also plays soccer and rides. Exercise taken too far, is also an addiction.

He is a chef and we connected over a love for food. I love cooking, it helps ground me and allows me to create magic. I saw the same in him.

I knew what I was getting into when I got involved with him.

We are two poles for each other. The attraction was instant and heady. My brain lit up like a Christmas tree once again.

In my addiction, I used to take my clothes off far too easily. Now I am much more careful. Sex has become sacred for me.

I saw all of this and explained things to him but the connection was impossible to resist. I decided we would only have sex once. What a slippery slope that is for two people with addiction issues.

The first time we came together was magic. It felt sacred and special. I knew we would be good in bed but it was beyond my expectations.

I remember feeling calm before I saw him. I do my best now to pay attention to how my body feels when I make decisions, it always knows, even when my head tries to say otherwise.

The reasons behind wanting to be with him were not all good ones. Life has been hard lately, I was tired of being in pain and wanted him to worship my body. I wanted to stop thinking so much and live.

In fact, he said something to that effect after we were done and it shattered me. It’s one thing to know that is the case, it’s another thing to have someone say it to you.

I lay there with tears rolling down my face while he held space for me and placed his hand on my heart. Like I said, magic.

It is important to note that he had decided before all this happened that we were not going to work out.

There is a 12-year age difference between us, we are at different places in our lives. Besides, I could see things all too clearly along with the writing on the wall.

Yet I still made the decision to go ahead and be with him.

Despite everything that has happened since, I have no regrets. This experience has been a gift.

He cracked me open. He made me see how walled up I am with men. I am after all, Natalie island and I don’t let just anyone in.

There was a push-pull to our relationship. I have lived that before and it is exhausting. I understand why he keeps pulling away. I would have run if I had met someone who truly saw me when I was lost in my addiction.

I kept being a mirror for him and it shook him because he had to stop and look at himself.

It is much easier to run than it is to stop and feel your feelings.

The mirror he was for me has since cracked.

More will be revealed as I process and pull out the insights and lessons learned.

Stay tuned.

What is true now

This post has been percolating for a while.

It is a question my meditation teacher posed at the start of our formal meditation classes three weeks ago and one I have been pondering since.

I fell back into meditation earlier this fall and cued up a meditation from my teacher on meeting ourselves in kindness.

I have been working with that theme both in meditation and life ever since.

This summer both my yoga and meditation practices went out the window. I’m not sure what happens to me when I fall into the pit. It takes every ounce of energy just to make it through the day.

The summer months are ones of being fully embodied. Routines often go out the window. There were a confluence of factors this summer: my yoga teacher took a break from teaching as did my meditation teacher. I am a fan of structured classes. I will keep up the discipline as long as I can dip my toes into the energy of the collective too.

Meeting ourselves in kindness.

A foreign concept for someone who grew up in hard.

I have learned to push my body as an athlete. I did not grow up in a place where feelings were acknowledged or safe to express.

Meeting myself in kindness became an observation exercise during meditation.

I have come to understand there are parts of me that need to be acknowledged. There is a reviewer part, the one who goes back and analyzes my behavior. There is a critic who also shows up. A planner, manager part shows up sometimes as well.

Lately, a scared one has shown up. That revelation brought tears to my eyes.

Instead of admonishing myself for having these parts, I am to welcome them home. I see them as the small parts of me that grew up in my family of origin. They kept me safe. My job is to accept them and give them a hug and thank them for the valiant work they have done.

It is fascinating to watch them show up. To take on an observer role and not judge.

It takes everything I have to meet myself in kindness. To be my own best friend. I keep encouraging myself and telling myself I am rewiring my brain with every meditation session I do. With every sit, every breath, every time I bring myself back into my body.

Lately, I have been struggling with sleep. My nervous system is fragile and easily dysregulated. According to Ayurveda, this season of air or vata energy causes anxiety and insomnia.

I am feeling this deeply.

I am doing everything I can to ground. To come home to myself.

My movement practices help, breathwork and meditation help. Walks in Mother Nature help.

I need to give myself extra tender loving care when I am in this place.

The path of coming home to myself will be the work of my life.

What is true now?

Gratitude and grief

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday because it is about gratitude.

What messes me up the most is the picture in my head of what it is supposed to look like instead of what is.

A year ago, I was on a studio tour in the country, praying for a new sponsor, meeting my recovery family for dinner. I had an incredible storytelling class in the evening. It was a beautiful day.

This year looks different. I have no energy to go on the same studio tour, I have a solid new sponsor and my recovery family is dealing with the fallout of radiation treatments from cancer.

My 12-step program teaches me to be grateful for what is. I am deeply grateful for my health despite the aches and pains, my home, and my sweet cat Tabby who has had her own health challenges this fall. I am grateful for my recovery family, my friends, and the food I will bring over to the former this weekend.

It is all beautiful and yet I feel a profound sense of sadness.

I have had deep wounds activated in the past couple of weeks. I believe they have come up because I am strong enough to look at them and heal them a little.

One of those wounds is around abandonment.

My best friend met a great guy and, wanting to be present and intentional, was not on her phone as much. Gone were the good mornings and goodnights. Despite her claims of being there all I felt was her absence.

The profound sense of loss I felt activated a very deep abandonment wound from my childhood. My sponsor helped me see I was in a codependent relationship. The void that showed up was one I had not felt in years.

Years.

I remember that void. That sucking black hole of darkness filled with trauma, pain and sorrow.

I would do anything not to feel, my addictions ran rampant and I was a slave to them.

I abandoned myself over and over, to exercise, to men, to shopping, to partying. Anything not to feel the depths and murkiness of that sorrow.

You cannot feel joy if you do not feel sadness. You cannot love when you are lost in addiction.

Abandonment, a core wound from my childhood brought on by a workaholic father and a cold mother.

My best friend is my person. I go to her with everything, she is one of two emergency contacts, one of three people who stand around me and are a part of my inner circle.

It was not until my sponsor said that I was in a codependent relationship that the pieces clicked into place.

My precious serenity and sanity that I have worked so hard for in recovery were lost. My sleep was affected and the rage I felt had nothing to do with her. It had everything to do with my family of origin.

Story follows state.

I went quiet for two days while I processed my feelings and detached from her. I spoke to my program people and tried to sort out what was real and what was mine.

I wrote her a letter. After all, I am a writer.

I did my best to stay in the “I” position and not use too many “you’s” because when you point a finger at someone there are three pointing back at you. My best friend was simply being a mirror, one that cracked.

It is frightening to me that my brain goes to wanting to die when the pain becomes too great. I am doing all I can to change that neural pathway. Meditation, yoga, and nervous system regulation classes because I am easy dysregulated.

A holistic practitioner I did a lot of work with helped me reframe that feeling as what part of me wants to die. It is not easy to access any of the tools mentioned above when I get swept up in the waves of dark emotion.

I reached out all day long. To a trusted friend who goes through the same thinking, to my yoga teacher for sleep aid relief, and to my sponsor. I was bereft with grief.

Reach out Natalie, when those dark demons come swirling around you, keep reaching for the light. Keep reaching to live.

I practiced what I have been taught in recovery.

The dust settled, my best friend and I spoke, we went through rupture and repair. I am still shaken and left feeling uneasy by it all.

The storms were not over.

Last week, a mother wound was activated by my team leader at work. I was reprimanded and criticized and activated on an exponential level yet again.

The rage I felt caused the software on my computer to glitch. I was so upset. Yet again I detached and the story followed state.

I cried a river because I knew exactly who she reminded me of.

My freaking mother. Miserable, exacting with no praise to give instead there is only criticism.

I reminded myself that I had seen another side to my team leader. I was unable to access any of that or an ounce of compassion for her because I had none to give.

The storm passed, the waters settled Friday and I had a solid day at work.

I am a lover of astrology and cannot wait to deepen my studies.

We are in a full moon in Aries in the sign of Libra. The essence of this full moon is to release wounds that block us from love.

Healing in the heart seems to be right where I’m at.

Libra is the mansion where we recognize that our primary relationship is with the outside world, existence itself, and our spiritual connection. When that relationship is put first, all of our other connections thrive. I am reminded of a reading in recovery where my higher power must always come first, otherwise, my life becomes unmanageable by putting people, places, or things in its place.

No wonder I am tired. I feel like I have been at war with myself. I want these wounds to heal so when salt is thrown at them, they no longer sting and hurt me.

That will be a sign of healing for me.

It is indeed a time of deep gratitude and grief.

A little history not repeating

This post is long overdue.

It has been sitting on the backburner of my mind for a while.

I was put on performance review at work because of my actions within two months of starting my new job.

There is a restriction on cell phone use at work because of the nature of the information we have access to. I disregarded the rule on a pretty frequent basis and got busted repeatedly.

I also tried really hard to control who my team lead was going to be once I was put under review because I wanted to be evaluated fairly.

I made other mistakes which required asking for guidance and approval in specific cases and did neither.

Not a series of actions I am proud of.

In typical fashion, my body spoke my mind and a host of not so mysterious ailments started appearing such as sinus headaches from irritation, insomnia which speaks to fear, guilt and not trusting the process of life, migraines from a dislike of being driven and resisting the flow of life according to Louise Hay. I started calling in sick and not showing up to work which is yet another pattern that has operated in the past.

When I was 22 years old, I was put under performance review when I arrived at my unit after graduation because of a series of actions and trouble I got into in my last year after I was sexually assaulted at military college. These actions were a normal response to the trauma I had experienced and had to pack into a box and shove deep down.

I naively believed the words of my commanding officer that I would be evaluated fairly despite my past actions. I busted my ass for a year and was denied a promotion that came automatically because I was doing work above my rank due to operational requirements. I had therefore not been evaluated doing work at my rank level and they wanted to extend the period of my evaluation.

Perception is everything and I was in a time in the military when officers ate their young. I was also in a big boys club, where a woman had to be twice as good as a man to be considered half as much. I went into a massive depression, which is anger turned inwards, and was released medically a year afterwards.

I did not have the tools at 22 years old to deal with any of it. All of a sudden my past came flying into my present when I was put under performance review at work. I no longer knew what was real and what was the past. I transposed a situation from the past into my present and operated from that place. That is post traumatic stress disorder.

I went on short term disability when I contracted Covid and was down with the virus for three weeks. I white knuckled my way back to work and lasted maybe a week and a half before I went on short term disability once again.

This time I did things differently and asked for help.

I sought the help of a counsellor through my employee assistance program, leaned into my sponsor in my 12 step program and reached out to a friend who is a life coach.

I was wallowing in victim mode. Knowing full well a pattern was repeating in my work place yet again and feeling powerless to stop it.

I worked on grieving with my EAP counsellor. A lot of people get stuck between anger and depression in the five stages of grief.

I grieved the parents I have. I grieved what I thought my life would look like and came to acceptance of what is. I grieved for the little girl who had to grow up too fast in my family and who lived through actions no child should ever be exposed to. That is a truck load of grief.

I processed my anger, rage and sadness at my parents with my sponsor.

My life coach friend reminded me of what I already knew deep down but had lost sight of in my pain. It’s hard to see the forest through the trees when you’re lost in the woods. We did an inventory of work experiences and pulled out the common threads.

In recovery this is called a step four. I did a step five with her by sharing my findings with her.

They boiled down to patterns from my family of origin: over giving, over achieving, insufficient support, a problem with authority, any kind of feedback is taken personally, a lack of boundaries, not trusting myself, trying to control through being defensive and fighting.

I am to seek guidance when I need support. To trust myself because once I do, I will trust others more easily. To surrender versus trying to control.

My personal boundaries at work are to not gossip, that my personal life stays private, to stay positive and to reframe from the negative to the positive on a consistent basis.

I have an affirmation I use when I need to: I am learning, I am well, I’ve got this.

My return to work has gone better than I had hoped.

I am being given a fresh start. I am being retrained which is a gift because I am absorbing more the second time around. I wake up excited to learn and have fun with the people I work with.

It is nothing short of a miracle.

I am grateful that I learned a long time ago to ask for help. I bring courage to the work that needs to be done to unpack my past, process the feelings and grow. It is not for the faint of heart.

I am proud of myself for creating an experience at work where I get to show up fully, make a difference and be happy.

It is a first in my life.

Alone but not lonely

A guy I dated briefly from my past popped up out of nowhere this weekend.

Having gone through the wringer a year ago with the exact same situation, I was cautious to say the very least.

It’s funny how the Universe sends us people to deliver lessons isn’t it?

I waited a full 12 hours to answer his text. One of my first questions was what had prompted him to message me after four years.

He said he had come across my profile on Facebook and wanted to see how I was doing.

He suggested getting together for a drink, to which I replied I no longer drink. He then suggested we go for a walk.

I told him that men from my past stay in my past.

I am no longer the person I was four years ago. The work I do in recovery along with my own insatiable desire to learn and love of personal development work ensure that is no longer the case.

He proceeded to tell me he wasn’t looking for anything serious but instead wanted to enjoy life with someone he knows. To have fun instead of always being alone.

I said if I were to let someone in, it would be serious and because I saw potential.

Can you see the mismatch? Not two people who are on the same page whatsoever. However, his comment stuck, at least the latter part of it did.

It stuck because it resonated deeply.

I am tired of doing everything alone and would definitely like to do more with someone I know and have fun while doing it.

First aha moment.

The second was a harder lesson to learn.

He disappeared mid conversation on more than one occasion via text. I cannot stand that behavior. Manage expectations and communicate.

As my bestie said: “If you were standing across from me engaged in conversation with me and had to leave, I would expect you to have some common courtesy and express that.”

I guess it’s not a given in the world of communication via text for everyone.

Marc is 13 years younger than me.

I let him in four years ago because in some respects he is an old soul. In others, not so much. In this instance, the age gap became apparent.

I believe people come into our lives for a reason, season or lifetime.

Marc came into my life for a reason. He was a soft place to land after I was fired from a job and publicly shamed in local newspapers. I was at fault and screwed up on a large scale.

We had fun skiing once and he was a nice distraction from the shame and humiliation I felt after that event. That was the extent of things.

After all, I am Natalie, a woman who keeps her cards close to her chest. A fortress on an island, surrounded by a moat and turrets. I don’t let just anyone in.

My gut tells me how far to let men in and just how much to unveil.

I don’t remember how much I revealed to Marc and it doesn’t really matter because it’s the past and what is done is done.

Fast forward to the weekend and after stating exactly what I was looking for and knowing we were not on the same page, I find myself compulsively checking my phone to see whether he’s responded.

By Sunday I was pissed. At him, but mostly at myself.

Because my bestie suggested that maybe both he and I had evolved in the four years since we had seen each other and to keep an open mind.

My friend and life coach suggested that life is better shared and what was wrong with hanging out and having fun with someone? I could not come up with a reason.

Marc explained that he isn’t within a foot of his phone at all times like I am.

Fair enough.

By then, the damage had been done. I am recovering from one of the worst cases of sinusitis I have had in a long time.

Sinus pain is related to frustration according to Louise Hay and boy was I frustrated.

It was no longer about Marc, I got frustrated at myself for laying down my need, waffling and being so needy that I expected someone to respond.

None of the above mentioned behaviors are wrong.

They are all normal. They are about asking for what I want, being open to input from others and changing my mind and expecting common courtesy and respect.

I realized I needed to give myself what I expected from Marc.

I needed to give myself attention and care instead of expecting someone else to.

That is exactly what I did today.

I nursed myself through the excruciating pain in my head.

I have a big brain and am hard on myself. Easy does it Natalie. No one is perfect, we are all learning and it is about progress not perfection.

This is one of the many reasons I am in recovery. To undo the harsh patterning I grew up in and then internalized.

What is truly uncanny is the timing of all of this.

A year ago today I was getting involved with another guy from my past, I fell hard for him and learned painful and necessary lessons.

I can say there definitely is progress here.

I am alone but I am not lonely. I have come to truly know myself and enjoy my own company. I want someone to make my life easier, not harder.

I’ll know when that person shows up.

Thanks Marc for the lessons, be well.

Love never dies

I attended a celebration of life for yet another classmate from military college yesterday.

I had not seen Mike since I was posted out west in Edmonton. We crossed paths while I lived in single quarters for six months.

He died at 47 years old leaving behind another classmate of mine, Holly and his beautiful 11 year old daughter Lilly.

I remember when Mike and Holly started dating in 1994 when both Mike and I transferred to the Royal Military College in Kingston. They were the cutest couple.

Holly spoke beautifully yesterday on their property in the country on the outskirts of Ottawa.

They were obviously soulmates. She described looking into his blue eyes and being lost and they both just knew. So very beautiful.

I got to learn about Mike’s life yesterday.

The celebration of life was a potluck because Mike loved food and poured his heart and soul into the dishes he made. He had over 500 cookbooks. Holly and Lilly went through them and put over one hundred aside to keep. Guests were encouraged to take a cookbook home.

I was on the fence as to whether to go in the morning.

I asked myself what would love do? The answer was easy. Go.

My love language is also food. I offered my cooking to Mike and poured my heart and soul into a beautiful orzo salad with fresh corn, cherry tomatoes, fried zucchini, feta cheese and basil from my garden. The salad was dressed with a home made vinaigrette. It was a work of love and art.

I had no way of letting Holly know I was coming. I texted a classmate who lived in the area asking if he was going. He said he would show up.

Holly recognized me right away.

It was a beautiful celebration of life. There was a table with the guest book, a copy of one of Mike’s favorite recipes for guests to take home with them along with some sheets of paper to write a memory for Holly and Lilly.

I dropped my salad off on the groaning table of food. The kitchen was manned by some very capable ladies.

I stood by the table with a clipboard in my hand trying to think of what to write.

As people arrived, I took people through the procedure. It was lovely to see people sitting and writing their notes.

Soon enough, classmates arrived. One of Mike’s roommates from recruit term showed up having driven in from Kingston. I had not seen Steve since we graduated in 1996 so I launched myself into his arms for a big hug.

My lovely friend Sébastien, who was also one of Mike’s roommates during recruit term showed up. More hugs.

One of the ladies who took charge of the kitchen had also gone to college with us and graduated after us came out with a basket for the cards guests were bringing. She checked on me and made sure I was drinking fluids. It was a scorcher of a day. Hot with a humidex in the thirties.

Another classmate of ours Kris showed up and soon there were four of us who had started and done five years together. More hugs. It was lovely to stand there catching up.

There is magic in the air with these people.

We look after each other and care. We are leaders. We do.

We went through hell and back together and had so much fun too.

As Holly took to the microphone and shared about Mike, we stood next to each other and listened.

I learned about Mike’s life. How he was a humble person. How he loved. How he did greats acts through food. I learned about Mike and Holly’s life together and about Lilly.

At one point, I looked around and saw the community of people who showed up. He was so loved.

I looked up to the sky and knew Mike was right there with us.

I stood rooted into their land barefoot listening, grounding in to the earth for strength and support. I heard a crow call out towards the end. Crow is a very powerful shamanic totem representing the birth point of creation, magic, an omen of change, strength, transformation and personal integrity. Seems fitting doesn’t it?

When things wrapped up I sat with a clipboard and a sheet of paper. Again, I was challenged with what to write until I brought myself to the present moment.

This is what I wrote:

Holly and Lilly,

Holly your words today were so beautiful. You and Mike were obviously soulmates.

I am so glad the community of support you have around you held you and saw you through all of this.

They will keep holding you and your beautiful daughter Lilly through the waves of grief that are sure to come. Keep reaching out.

Love through food always.

Mike will always be with you both.

I brought a vegetarian cookbook home with me. It’s a great cookbook, I have been sitting going through the recipes today feeling sad knowing I had to write this post.

Rest in peace Mike, you were one of the good ones.

A few good men

This is an overdue post that has been percolating for the past couple of months.

I went back to the Royal Military College in Kingston for my 26th reunion with my classmates at the beginning of June. We missed our 25th reunion because of the pandemic.

I went to my 20th reunion six years ago, it was the first time I had the courage to show up.

I attribute that courage to recovery and the work I’ve done on myself. Before then my life was too much of a mess to feel like I could show up.

I remember my former roommate bursting into tears when she saw me walk into the room. I gave her a big hug and told her I would have showed up earlier had I known how she felt.

That’s my disease. The itty bitty shitty committee that feeds me stories and lies and likes to keep me down. It likes to remind me I’m not worthy, that I’m broken and not enough. Those thoughts are what feed it and keep it alive.

It takes a lot of work on my part to rewire my brain. To remind myself that indeed I am more than worthy, what’s more important is that I always have been. Even before recovery and all the tremendous work I have done and keep doing on myself to be a better person.

Comparison is the thief of joy.

Some of my classmates are generals now and drive luxury vehicles. I’m happy for them and their success. As a counsellor reminded me lately none of that matters. What matters most is the work of the heart. The hard earned peace I have in mine and the serenity that continues to grow the more I work my program.

Not everyone wakes up in life. Some do and choose not to do the work.

I am not one of those people.

I was reminded at my reunion of how great some of the guys I went to college with are. They give the best hugs and are truly happy to see me. It doesn’t feel like 26 years have passed and we pick up right where we left off.

I’ve gone to university and not felt the ties I have with these classmates.

We went through so much together, some of us were together for five years at college, others two when I transferred to the college in Kingston.

I organized a get together for dinner and breakfast while we were in Kingston. It was great to sit down and catch up with each other.

These guys are such great men.

After my trials and tribulations in the dating world, it did me a world of good to hang out with them and remember the quality of men I went to college with. I had the best boyfriends when I was in the military.

This post is for them.

Thanks for reminding me that there are indeed good men out there.

Ghosting

Lets talk about ghosting shall we?

I have been ghosted a few times lately. Not sure what is in the water.

Regardless, it’s cowardly.

I met a great guy a few weeks ago on his birthday. Everything was going well or so I thought until one day I didn’t hear from him. He gave a bogus excuse and that was it. I told him I wasn’t going to run after him and let go.

I don’t understand this behavior. It’s cowardly and screams of fear. I can’t be honest and upfront with you so instead, I’m going to run away. What the hell?

I pulled stunts like this when I was a sick puppy, fully in my disease. Not anymore.

I have the courage to tell someone when things aren’t working or something is bothering me.

The same scenario happened a few nights ago.

I was texting back and forth with a guy, things were going great. We were laughing and having a good time until things got weird and he unmatched with me on the dating app after texting for an hour and a half.

I’m all about free will and it’s perfectly okay to change your mind but have the decency to tell me.

Behavior like this makes me angry and I feel sorry for these guys who lack a backbone, balls and common sense and respect.

Man up.

I don’t like that expression but in this case it’s fitting.

It’s hard to stay hopeful when men pull stunts like this.

It’s discouraging to invest in someone and open up to them only to have them dismiss you with no explanation.

Let this be a reminder that courtesy and respect are always de rigueur in dating and human relationships.

If you can’t bring those elements to the table then stay out of the game.

As for me, I’ve shaken myself off, am moving on and doing my best to stay positive.

I still have hope.

Love

Love.

What is love?

I mean the elusive, rare and true kind.

I sometimes wonder if I have ever felt it for another man. And then I remember the pain when it was gone and realize it must have been there all along.

Love: supportive, present and true.

What does it mean to you?

A hand on the small of my back, a hand holding mine, a hand on my leg as we sit at the table. Physical touch is my primary love language. Will you do those small gestures for me if you love me?

Be present when we’re together, show up fully and live with me. No matter what we do, give me the gift of your time. Quality time is my second love language.

I wonder if I can add these lines to my dating profiles?

Will it make a difference? Will I somehow weed out the right one with these words?

I have a list. Doesn’t everyone? Of the qualities they look for in another.

Despite my list, I’d like to think I’ll know what he feels like.

I felt it last summer, ever so briefly, with someone I loved.

His voice felt like home. Finally, after all these years, I felt I had arrived home.

I can’t explain this phenomenon anymore than I can put words to describe what it felt like.

Home.

Maybe that’s what my person will feel like: home.

I did not expect my life to look like this.

Single, with no children.

Life is unexpected and painful. Yet still I hold out hope for my heart.

I hold out hope for love.

Another one bites the dust

Dating is hard.

I don’t understand how it is so difficult.

Maybe because I’m in my late forties, have done and keep doing the work and have standards.

My bestie keeps saying I’m so close and it frustrates me.

Why?

Because I look around and see others who are in couples and wonder why not me?

The last guy I dated was a great guy from Newfoundland straight out a twenty five year marriage. All the red flags went up with this knowledge.

I learned the hard way how important it is to be able to be with myself and to like my own company. To be okay with being alone.

You can rationalize and say you were alone in a marriage but it’s not the same as sitting with yourself and liking the company you keep.

There is such a thing as the fruitful darkness. The exploration of your soul and the shadow work that goes along with it.

Some can do this in relationship, others like me prefer to do the work on my own.

I developed a urinary tract infection on the Easter long weekend after having sex with him for the first time. I was pissed and it ruined my weekend. According to Louise Hay, a urinary tract infection is about being pissed off at men and blaming others which funnily enough, is exactly what I did.

He got triggered because he was the target of undeserved anger from his ex wife and my anger felt similar.

Whatever we had did not recover.

I was upfront with him and told him he needed to spend time alone and do the work before he got involved with anyone else.

He in turn said he’d met me too early, that a relationship with me was supposed to happen down the road.

He really was a great guy. He showed up for me when things went sideways at work. He was present, empathetic and kind.

He decided to continue dating and told me he has since met someone.

This meeting someone else felt fast and rushed. Nothing good can come from that. To me they are the actions of someone who doesn’t want to be alone and sit with themselves.

I wish him well.

I’ll say again I want to be someone who has done the work. This man showed up for me in an incredible way but I could not get past what I wanted.

It’s hard to stay hopeful when this sort of thing happens yet I need to remain hopeful.

A long time coming

This post has been a long time coming.

It is also one I didn’t think I’d ever write.

I received the assessor’s decision on my claim as part of the class action lawsuit against sexual misconduct in the Canadian Forces.

I have been awarded the maximum payout for the class I applied for.

Meaning I also experienced the highest level of damages, which are severe and long lasting psychological and emotional harms.

There is still another assessment coming for another class I applied for.

I felt a weight lift when I read the assessor’s letter.

At the same time, the money does not feel like enough to make up for a lifetime’s worth of impact that single event has had on my life.

Writing that claim was one of the hardest things I have done in my life. It took everything I had to get through it. I was surprised at my body’s reaction when I sat down to write. The shaking would not stop until I settled in.

The assessor’s letter mentioned the feelings of guilt, lack of trust, and difficulties with romantic relationships and employment I have experienced. Along with ongoing problems with PTSD, depression, anxiety and addictions for which I have sought professional help.

I remember asking my bestie what to put down as a number for the financial impact of that event. She suggested I take my salary back then and multiply it by 26 years with no promotions or inflation indexes. The amount came out to 1.3 million dollars. It was a sobering moment as I sat there in shock at the number.

As grateful as I am for the payout, which I was not sure I would get given the lateness I applied, it does not feel like enough.

I am part of the restorative justice piece where I get a chance to speak my truth with those who are hopefully in a position to do something about it.

I really hope true, meaningful change happens in the military as a result of all of this.

I also hope to find a measure of peace once I have told my story so I can finally let go and move on with my life.

When death comes

I found out late last night that a classmate of mine from military college died.

He was my age and larger than life. Always laughing and joking with an easy smile.

Cancer took his life.

Today my heart is heavy and I am sad.

Sad for his wife who is also a former classmate and now a widow and for their kids who no longer have a father.

My sadness goes beyond his death.

It makes me think of my life and how well I truly live it.

How well do any of us truly live our lives fully?

I’ve spent so much time feeling stuck, surviving and as a consequence, certainly not doing a very good job at living.

It’s only been recently where I have felt less shackled by events from my past and better able to truly live.

I feel like I have a lot of lost time to make up for but there is no such thing as a guarantee that I will get the opportunity to do just that is there?

I’ve been walking a lot today and thinking of him. Tears inevitably come. If cancer can come like a thief in the night, what guarantee do any of us truly have?

The truth is we don’t. Nothing in this life is guaranteed, let alone time.

I will go to his funeral tomorrow and celebrate a life well lived. I will hug his widow and cry.

I will make a promise to myself that I not spend so much energy on things that don’t really matter in the grand scheme of things.

That I will instead be grateful for and make the most of the time that is given to me.

To fully relish and inhabit the small joys that life offers me.

The voice inside

You know the one.

The one in the audience waiting for me to trip up and fail. Waiting to speak to me and tell me all the things I didn’t do right. The one who is constantly pointing out what I can do better.

You know the one.

The one who keeps me up at night. Who goes over my mistakes and tabulates them. The one who makes me feel not enough.

You know the one.

The one ridden with guilt and shame. The one that wants to keep me small and quiet

What I choose to do with that voice is up to me.

I can choose to listen and take to heart what it is trying to tell me or I can stop the wheel from turning and question its validity.

Both can be true.

I didn’t come here to be quiet and small. I came here to live and to live means I’ll inevitably make mistakes.

The mistakes are the gifts if I can turn them into lessons. That’s where the wisdom comes in.

The voice inside me telling me I’m not ever going to be enough. The voice has an insatiable appetite for the good in me.

The voice wants to make things dark so it can thrive. What if instead, I let the light in? And with the light, truth.

What then?

Would the voice be as strong then?

Only light and good can negate the voice that feeds on the dark shadows.

So when the voice comes, I’ll know to turn my face to the sun instead and stay way from the dark clouds.

The voice can be my enemy like it can also be my greatest ally.

Let my voice lift me and make me stand taller.

Let my voice fill me with light and joy.

Let my voice help me instead of hurt me.

What will you do with your voice?

Dating 101

I dipped my toes back into the dating pool at the end of January.

The guy I met online was too good looking for his own good.

Don’t you love the voices in your head that say: “There’s no way I’m in his league.” The guy was a serious gym rat, he had impressive guns.

Turns out I was just his type. I was a little stunned by this and it took me a while to wrap my head around it all.

In typical Natalie fashion, we ended up in the bedroom much too quickly.

There are certain questions that need to be posed before anyone takes their clothes off. Like are you clean of STIs? What about protection?

Turns out this guy was so eager he showed up on my doorstep with no condoms, things should have come to a screeching halt then. I mean there are other ways to get off other than intercourse but still.

It’s important to note that in times like these I lose my voice. I attribute it to the sexual assault and losing my voice in a major way that night.

I did have the courage to pose those questions but I let things go where they should not have and a precedent was created.

Valentine’s Day rolls around and I plan an elaborate meal. I remind him about condoms and that’s when things go sideways fast. Next thing I know we’ve gotten into a disagreement and I cancel dinner.

Over condoms.

I don’t care that you don’t like them. Who does? It doesn’t matter, they are a requirement.

Having had to terminate a pregnancy due to sheer stupidity on my part, getting pregnant by someone I barely know is not something I want or should have to worry about.

As my bestie so rightly said, the answer to the question about condoms should have been: “Yes I’ve got it covered.”

Not “well you should have taken care of getting some if you wanted me to use them.” Um no, just no.

We are in 2022. I could not believe we were even having a disagreement over this.

The relationship did not recover. I was pissed and less than impressed. I proceeded to go out on a date with someone else just to cleanse my palate.

On that date I realized what was missing. We chatted about politics and the recent occupation of the city by protesters. My brain was incredibly turned on.

I didn’t have any of that with condom guy.

To me attraction isn’t based on physical appearance. Sure it’s a factor but much more important is whether I’m able to carry on an engaging conversation on a variety of topics. I’ll admit I am a sapiophile.

I had fun on my date and it wasn’t just the Jack Daniels talking. Nothing came of it and my clothes blessedly stayed on. Thank God for small miracles.

I tried to revive things with condom guy but too much damage had been done.

When I tried to talk about it, I was mocked for making a mistake that night. That’s dangerous territory and so not okay.

As a dear friend said: “Natalie you need to be with someone who has emotional intelligence, is mature and knows how to make a woman happy.”

It’s really as simple as that isn’t it?

Wish me luck.

A year in review

2021 was one of the hardest years of my life.

It is said that the body’s cells regenerate fully every seven years. Well hopefully they’ve all gone through the wash, rinse and spin cycle and are good for a little while.

The year began with healing from an injury: a severe case of plantar fasciitis. It took months of physio and rehab. My foot is still not the same, not sure it ever will be.

The injury meant a change of careers from retail, where I worked on it for the last six months of 2020 and made the injury so much worse. Chalk it up to a former high performance athletic mindset of pushing past pain and high pain thresholds. Major lesson learned: honor yourself. When it hurts, stop.

I gave notice in May after being on sick leave since January. I am incredibly grateful for the social benefits in this country, not sure what I would have done without the income. Retail has never been well paid.

I started looking for work in January at about the same time I started counselling. I was again in an anxious low. I was introduced to dialectical behavioral therapy which helped along with my wonderful counsellor. I needed shoring up because I had an incredible task ahead of me.

I am part of the class action lawsuit against sexual misconduct in the military and I had a claim to write which was causing me massive anxiety.

It was a major hurdle in my wellbeing and one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.

I finally summoned the courage in October, wrote my claim, consulted with the class lawyers about my case and filed.

I went for a swim after I hit the submit button. I will never forget that swim. It was Friday, October 15th.

I left it all in the lake.

Whether my claim was good enough, the outcome and the payout. All of it.

If I stay attached, he wins and I again give up my power.

No more.

My summer was not easy by any stretch. I had to set a boundary 47 years in the making with my parents asking for space after a call with them almost landed me in the hospital. Brutal but necessary.

I met and fell in love with a great guy over the summer. He was my litmus test. In town for five weeks, I thought he’d be a great test. I never thought I’d fall in love.

I learned more big lessons. I was incredibly guarded when it came to men. No one made it in past the fortress walls, moat and turrets of the island that is Natalie.

To finally let someone in was huge. I felt both held and free and so loved.

It took me a couple of weeks to mend my broken heart only to have my past come knocking.

I do not engage with men from my past for a reason. Men were a good time and not a long time back then.

I guess my Higher Power had plans for me to learn more hard lessons.

Turns out the man from my past, whom I chose to let in, had a problem with alcohol. I’m in recovery because I grew up in an environment affected by alcohol. I am primed and wired for people like this man. My brain lit up like a freaking Christmas tree around him. I could cut the attraction with a knife. I fell hard and fast.

I was going to fix him and be the one to walk him to his first AA meeting. All my years in recovery went out the window and I became obsessed with him.

I was like the crazy person I had been with my ex who was also an adult child of an alcoholic.

It was frightening.

It took me three months to extricate myself from it all. To put him back into the past where he belonged.

I learned a number of valuable lessons, and very humbling ones. First, no matter how long I’ve been in recovery, I am incredibly attracted to someone with a drinking problem. I realized I am not his Higher Power and need to allow him the dignity of his choices. He became my singular focus: I woke up and went to sleep thinking of him. I was completely obsessed.

He was like the best kind of drug but also the worst. The kind that left me feeling high and then terrible about myself.

I was able to mend fences with my parents at Christmas. I reached out after organizing a program day of sharing. Christmas is bittersweet for me because of the incredible memories my parents created for me.

I spend most of my Christmases alone now, the pandemic making it even more necessary which is hard. Speaking to them again after five months was the best Christmas gift.

2021 may have been one of the hardest of my life but it was absolute gold in terms of lessons.

Inside the ache

Inside the ache

Inside the ache.

It’s where the heart of the matter resides isn’t it?

It’s where the truth lives.

It’s where the hardest lessons are learned.

Inside the ache.

It’s where my best work comes from.

How do you feel when you’re inside the ache?

Since I’ve been in recovery, I have never been fine again.

I have been terrified, exhausted, sad, angry, depressed and full of anxiety. I have been amazed and awed, delighted and overjoyed to bursting.

I have been alive.

We can do hard things, like be alive and love and lose.

The ache is not a flaw, it is the club house of the brave. It’s where all the lovers are. Anyone who has loved and lost, who has said goodbye to a loved one or welcomed a newborn into the world.

The ache is love.

Inside the ache.

I’ve spent my fair share of time inside the ache.

Curled up in my heart cave, licking my wounds. Retreating from the world to self soothe.

Inside the ache.

I have loved and lost and been overcome with sadness and grief, until the pain lessened and I was able to rejoin the world once again.

Inside the ache.

I have sat with parts of myself. The dark and sacred parts. The parts of me that I don’t want the world to see.

Inside the ache.

I have grieved a hundred hurts both big and small. Sat with myself and looked at the pieces of me I don’t want to see.

Inside the ache.

I have looked at myself in the mirror and accepted both the good and the bad. I have made peace with myself. I have come to love the person I have become.

Inside the ache.

I have built a home where I can go anytime to rebuild, strengthen and come out not stronger but softer and, more me.

Inside the ache.

I have been alive.

Resurfacing

It’s been a while since I’ve written.

That usually means my mental health has gone sideways again.

Sure enough, right after celebrating my bestie’s birthday, I crashed.

I could not stop crying and weeks of darkness and fear followed suit.

Fear because after almost a year, countless applications and a few job interviews, I still did not have a job lined up. Time was running out with my employment insurance claim ending.

My new sponsor keeps telling me I need to do a better job trusting my Higher Power. That when I find myself worrying, know that my Higher Power is already working on it.

That proved to be the case, once again.

A friend on social media checked in and asked how I was doing. I was honest with her and told her how scared I was. She came up with a job lead for me.

The next thing I knew, after speaking with her partner about said job opportunity, I was interviewed and given a letter of offer. Training starts in a week.

After being at home for a year it will be good to be back amongst humans again.

The job isn’t what I expected I would be doing but I guess life truly happens while I was making other plans.

On the love front, things have been understandably quiet yet there seems to be a glimmer of light and hope on the horizon.

It is brand new and I am still pinching myself over it all.

It would be refreshing to be able to talk about a happier subject won’t it?

Stay tuned…

The gift is in the feedback

Early on in my sports psychology classes I was taught to look for the lessons learned. I am an optimistic person by nature and look for the good. Later on in neuro linguistic programming training, I learned there is no such thing as failure, only feedback.

A much more gentle and softer approach than failure.

I engaged with someone from my past knowing full well within 48 hours what it was and that I really needed to walk away. 

Did I? No.

I learn the hard way it seems. 

There are those who learn from listening and watching others and those who live through their lessons.

I am one of the latter.

I am a kinesthetic learner. I learn by doing. 

It was evident when I was ski racing. I would listen, watch a demo and then feel it out on my skis. Integrating with every repetition until it was in my body and became second nature. 

I still learn this way with humans, especially if I have invested in them and care. 

“I believe I needed to make certain ‘mistakes’ to learn critical lessons I am not certain I would have otherwise learned. I cannot let my past interfere with my ability to trust myself. I cannot afford to function with fear” wise words from Melody Beattie.

I have learned to be mindful of whom and what I engage with. My energy is too precious to be poured into just anyone or anything. 

It took me going through pain and my codependency rearing its head to learn a lesson. I intellectually knew this interaction would not work for me yet I kept trying. Why? 

Because it’s what I learned in my family of origin. Does it work for me anymore? 

No.

I had to go through the process of learning the hard way yet again. 

The lessons mined are gold. Absolute gold.

I still have a primary wound with my father, the first male in my life. To attract someone like this man and to be attracted to him makes this fact obvious.

I have not been around anyone with active addiction since I came into recovery. My father has enough respect for me to not drink the way he does in his homes around me. He is fully aware of and supports my recovery.

My brain lit up like a freaking Christmas tree around this man from my past. 

A freaking Christmas tree. 

My genetics, despite all the work I have done, proved that this disease is alive and well in me. We can arrest our diseases, not fully be recovered from them. That is a hard truth and one I was reminded of.

My codependency came out full force. It was frightening. I over functioned, over compensated, trying to fix, control and make things work.

I went into some kind of variation of a past self and the crazy that goes along with it.

My serenity and sanity need to be protected at all costs in recovery, at all costs. 

My sponsor reminded me that we can help those who want to be helped. What is help? According to our program traditions it is based on attraction rather than promotion. I am not an evangelist for a 12 step program. That’s ego.

I walk a path and do my best to live my life according to the principles of my program. My actions speak for themselves. Words are empty without action. I do my best to embody this new way of life.

I was reminded once again that I really need to trust my gut.

I need to be wary about whom I am attracted to for precisely the reasons stated above. I knew this fact yet I chose to ignore it.

I do not need more hard in my life. I want gentle, easy and soft.

I had to go through this experience knowing in my head, moving through my heart to finally land back in my gut. I knew. I knew all along yet I engaged.

Never again.

In the end, I chose to stick to my values, and honour my needs and wants. 

After all I have been through and the work I keep doing in recovery, I deserve better.

During all of this I went out on a date. We could have been two sides of the same coin. A man who had done an incredible amount of work on himself. A peaceful buddha like person. A lovely human who cared and was attentive. He was just about everything I want on paper.

Was I attracted to this man? No.

What’s worse is I was bored. I could run circles around his brain. That is not ego, it just is.

I wanted the intellectual match I had with the man from my past. I wanted the stimuli I felt when I engaged with him. If that’s not addiction I’m not sure what is.

My best friend suggested I like chaos. That the man from my past caused unrest and that is what I was drawn to.

I thought back to my summer love. He and I aligned, there was little unrest other than to deal with some of the demons from my past. He held space for me. I felt safe, free and loved. He listened so well and I knew he had my back.

I compared the two experiences.

Alignment versus attachment.

I was two different people in each experience.

With the man from my past I did not feel held. In fact I kept being held at arm’s length in an attempt to create space because he knew the impact he was having on me. I was stonewalled. His attempts to stay on the surface and inability to go deep for very long were painful. In the end my feelings were invalidated and I was gaslit. Shades of my family of origin.

Two very different experiences.

In the end I chose myself. 

He wanted to stay friends. I do not need more friends. The friends I have are grounded in program and those who aren’t in recovery are doing the work and live their lives along the principles of program.

I am not interested in surrounding myself with anyone else.

They say you are the average of the five closest people around you. I am a quality friendship person and not a quantity one.

My inner circle is small, close and I love them fiercely.

They know everything about me, love me and have my back.

It took me a long time to cultivate the person I am today. I love deeply, I let myself be known by safe people and I let myself be loved. 

I have been given a life thanks to recovery, principles to guide my life, and a set of tools to live life on life’s terms. I have been given a family by choice that loves me.

So many gifts that are priceless.

The power of emotions

I grew up in an environment where I was not allowed to feel.

Raised by parents who did not know how to feel their feelings. Children where to be seen and not heard my mother often said. 

My feelings, when I had them, were minimized, made fun of and invalidated.

I have learned that you cannot give what you do not have.

A generational characteristic, addiction, trauma from their own childhoods, all possible reasons for the way my parents were and still are. God forbid anyone should be open, honest and feel or talk about anything that is real in my family.

There were a few feelings I saw my mother display: anger or sadness. She took her anger out on my brother and I. I will not go into the details but it again comes back to what you grew up in and have let fester. Cold, all business, stiff upper lip was and still is my British mother’s way.

I would walk into the places she worked, hospitals and nursing homes and be told over and over again what a wonderful nurse she was. I would be furious. Why couldn’t she be a better mother?

My father was absent, forever working. We saw him weekends on the ski hill in the winter and at the lake in the summer.

I vividly remember as a child waking up and noticing the lights and television on, my father asleep on the couch after coming home late and drinking. I would shut the television off, so my brother and I would not be further disturbed.

In recovery I have come to know all these truths to be the hallmarks of the family disease of alcoholism.

It is not on my parents anymore, it is on me. When I point the finger at someone, how many fingers are pointing back at me?

I still have anger and resentments despite being in recovery. A resentment is hoping the other person will die and pouring poison down my own throat. 

I have a lot to be angry about.

My program gives me tools to go in and look at all of it. Determine my part and make an amends if necessary.

I wanted my parents to be something they did not have in them to give. The platitude of them doing the best they could really does apply, however, it does not by any stretch negate what happened.

It is on me to make sure I live better.

Program has taught me so much. It has given me a life of integrity by cleaning up the wreckage of my past. Tools to live life on life’s terms. 

It is said the 12 Steps prevent suicide and the 12 traditions prevent homicide.

I can attest to that being the truth.

I still struggle with my mind going to dark places after years of my brain going there. I could not cope with the pain and wreckage of what I perceived my life to be. I lived with impossible standards and was hard on myself. That just put me right back into addiction and is not helpful.

I definitely played with the idea of homicide in a  former relationship. I had very little tools and we were both sick adult children of alcoholics.

This disease is one of the soul. It is a soul sickness of always wanting more because of the void.

I will be in recovery for life. I know how distorted and dangerous my thinking can get in a split second. My mind is not a safe neighborhood to walk in alone. 

This disease is powerful, cunning and baffling. It is also progressive and very patient.

Not being allowed to feel growing up primed me for my own addictions.

It was not until I began my healing journey in addictions that I was told I had to feel my feelings. The path from the head to the heart is the longest to travel. I had to unpack all the times I was angry, sad, and felt shame. Not easy or pleasant by an stretch. I was afraid to feel my feelings.

My counselor at the time told me that my body would know what to do. That it would not last forever and that I needed to feel so I could move through it all. 

I swam in my feelings. I came to believe after all the years of living frozen that they were primordial. 

In recovery one of the promises is that we will come to know the vastness of our emotions but we will not be slaves to them. Powerful words.

I still get lost in my emotions after years of being frozen and having them locked down.

My emotions are powerful. They have had a major impact on my body. In Louise Hay’s incredible book You can Heal your Life, I was able to see exactly how much they have affected me.

They have seemingly done a number on me once again.

I have been dragging a severe case of plantar fasciitis for a year and a half. My body keeps getting injured and is not healing. 

I had live blood analysis done and saw the impact working angry and stressed for the past two years has had on my body.

My immune system is shot. My white blood cells are low and tired. My lymphatic system is not working properly and my liver is not doing its job detoxing. The result is massive inflammation which is why I am not healing.

That is the breeding ground for things that are scary.

The results took my breath away.

I made the connection between anger and my liver a few days later, according to traditional Chinese medicine they are linked.

That is all on me.

I allowed my emotions to get the better of me once again and impact my body.

I can list all the reasons behind the injuries in my body. I have an autoimmune disorder of the thyroid that literally means I do not accept myself. A fear of moving forward with my foot injury. A lower back injury about a fear around money. A shoulder injury around the sexual assault. The list goes on.

Now this. My poor body.

I sat and grieved after the news. 

Why am I so hard on myself? Why do I keep pushing past pain? I do what I know until I know better. I know better yet I keep doing.

I grew up in hard. I want soft. 

I want to treat myself with the love, compassion and grace I so richly deserve.

Easy does it Natalie, easy does it.

Trust yourself

“Trust yourself.”

Profound words spoken in a director’s office in my last contract three years ago, by a woman I looked up to. “You let your feelings get the better of you.” More gems. This woman read me like a book.

Trust yourself.

When your gut speaks to you. When you see the red flags. When you feel off in your body.

Trust yourself.

When you know it is time. My brain can rationalize itself out of any situation. My heart is full of feelings. Feelings are not facts. 

Where do I need to go to trust myself? Deep within. My body knows. My head and heart overlap layers. I have always known.

I grew up a sensitive and empath. Knowing I was a healer. Feeling things and knowing them on a deep level before they came true. I did not want the gift.

I saw and knew things and could not handle them. I would flee into the forest as a child with my dog to process and lose myself until I felt more grounded.

Mother Nature has always held me, she is my higher power. I go to her when I need to come home to myself. I intuitively know what to do. I always have.

Have I listened to that inner knowing my whole life?

No. 

I packed on layers of higher education, I love my big brain. I love learning. I have a fast brain, I work at the speed of Natalie, others can rarely keep up. That’s not ego talk, it just is. I go deep into research on topics that I am passionate about. 

Humans and the way they are have always fascinated me. I have dedicated much of my energy to continuous personal growth and development. I will be a life long learner.  

I am a manifesting generator in Human Design. I see the end goal and can manifest it, I just need to get out of my own way. 

That is where ego comes in, limiting beliefs and all the negative tapes from my family of origin. They stop me in my tracks. I have let them get the better of me over and over again.

This year has been one of the biggest in terms of transformation in my life. I burned down my life as I knew it a year ago.

My body knows. It tells me when I am off.

It gave me plantar fasciitis to stop me working retail, the injury represents a fear of moving forward. I was stuck, afraid, working in a toxic environment trying to make the best of it, knowing I was deserving of so much more. 

It took a pandemic and a lock down to make me stop and look at my life, to see what mattered most and what I knew I wanted. 

The first lock down became the biggest wellness retreat of my life, I threw myself into my recovery with extensive online offerings, feeding my brain, heart and soul. Reconnected with my favorite yoga teacher and was able to do classes with her remotely, something I would not be able to do given the geographical limitations. Walked early every day which is where the injury started and nourished my body with good food. I loved myself really well.

I had an anxiety attack knowing I was going back when the world opened up again. 

I went back into the retail environment for another six months. Working on my feet, pushing past pain every day. Afraid of a virus and people. Working angry in some shape or form with a person who was a hybrid of my parents. Insecure, controlling and who sucked the joy out of the place.

That is not a life.

It took another lock down to stop and get the care I needed for my foot. I am grateful for the health benefits I had. Rare are those who get benefits in retail as my physio wisely pointed out. Again the Universe was looking after me.

I grew up watching parents who tried to make things work. It is something I have integrated. What is not meant for you will not work, no matter how hard you try. I have had to learn this lesson over and over again the hard way, in relationships, work situations and life.

Trust yourself.

From leaving a job that did not work for me, to putting a boundary in place with my parents this summer asking for space, to knowing the healthiest love I have yet to experience with another man, and to living through an experience with another that was shades of my past.

So many hard yet beautiful lessons and gifts. 

The path continues to unfold. 

I can thank the last man for the writing I have been doing, I show up every Sunday morning and write here. I know I have a book in me. I have known since I was young.

As I keep doing what I love, writing, painting, deepening my yoga and meditation practices, and starting work in mediumship; I know I am on the right path.

Trust yourself Natalie, you’ve got this.

The death of a dream

How do you grieve something that didn’t come true?

How do you reconcile the pain in your heart with nothing in your hands?

How do you come to terms with your anger and sadness at addiction for being the thief it is and stealing from you the people you love?

I have more questions than answers. My heart aches and my soul is tired. 

I threw everything I had for two months at the beautiful man from my past who rose up out of nowhere to come back into my life again.

I sit still pondering the lessons. 

I am incredibly angry and sad at the disease of alcoholism. It has taken so much from my family and loved ones. It continues to steal people I love and turn them into hungry ghosts. It eventually kills them.

Cunning, baffling, powerful and very patient are the words commonly used to describe this insidious disease. 

Addiction is alive and well in me, I did not escape the family genetics. It is in check thanks to a Higher Power and recovery. By the grace of God go I, truly. I would no longer be here had I not found a 12 step program, a family by choice and a new way of living. 

Between the developmental, sexual and relational trauma I experienced and addiction, it’s a heavy load to carry without help. 

I was an excellent addict, I truly lived for the highs. I did not care about my life and played Russian roulette with it. Live fast, die young and leave a good looking corpse was my motto.

Look for the evidence of a Higher Power in your life, mine had her hands all over it and I am so very grateful. I do a ton of service work in my recovery program; I hold major positions because it keeps my selfishness and self centredness in check. I get to give back what was freely given to me.

If I am able to help just one person find the rooms of recovery and the serenity I have found within them, then my job here is done. 

I give back because it fills my cup and makes me feel part of something bigger than me.

Back to this beautiful man.

We finally spoke via video for the first time in two months. 

For two months, he held me at bay because he could not deal with my emotions and the pain he saw there because of his presence. 

The wound activated was not about him but about the first male relationship in my life, the one I have with my father. Because of the experience, I got to mine, expose and heal more pain, more insights and precious lessons.

A healing journey is not linear, it is spiral shaped. Lessons will keep showing up if we do not do the work to process, accept and integrate them.

As much as this hurts right now, I am deeply grateful for the experience. 

I was able to know, trust and accept everything I saw in the very beginning of our interaction during our call. My love will not put red flags down, no amount of love will.

I am the most challenged by acceptance and letting go in my recovery. One of my very first sponsors said that I had incredible awareness but would fly into action without accepting which often led to misguided actions as a result.

I was able to see that he cannot handle emotion or going deep. Why? Because in active addiction you cannot feel your feelings or go deep. You are a surface person. Until the substance is removed, the trauma unpacked, the feelings felt and the work done you are still not whole.

I will be in recovery for the rest of my life.

I am still recovering parts of myself that I don’t remember, lost or misplaced. It truly is a beautiful journey. The promise: to live happy, joyous and free.

I do not live like this every day by any stretch. The burdens I carried and the weight of the world on my shoulders are gone because I have a process to clean them up daily, and tools to live by that help me live life on life’s terms. It’s a beautiful thing.

The conversation we had was honest about what we both need and want and more importantly, what we are able to give.

I had to go through the anger, hurt and pain I felt towards him to make an amends and surrender. Only to discover that love existed once all those feelings were cleared. How could I not love him? Anger and love coexist, they are a double edged sword.

I have surrendered yet again because I have reached acceptance, as painful as it is.

He does not want to stop drinking, he has lowered his consumption and is instead practicing what some call harm reduction. It’s not ideal but it is what it is.

No amount of love will make a person stop drinking. Self-love will and I cannot give that to him.

I remember the moment when I burned down my life seven years ago. I said the words: “I love him but I love myself more.” Those are powerful words. The words needed to take action and make important changes.

I left a partner who is also an adult child, a little girl I loved more than anything and a home that had been all I knew for 16 years. I experienced further loss in my beloved furry familiar of 14 years who did not survive the move, and died after five months of moving into my home. I then lost my holistic health care practitioner later that year. The man who had been my rock prior to finding recovery. 

I lost everything I knew and loved.

Into the fire I went over and over again. Burned to ashes, broken, grieving with a pain I did not know was possible. My cat’s death was the worst pain I have ever felt. He was my protector, my love and truly bonded to me. My beloved familiar. 

Yet here I stand seven years later in the midst of yet another powerful time of transformation. It is said that our cells completely regenerate every seven years. I feel this deep in my bones.

I am being stripped of everything anew. The landscape of my life looks nothing like it was a year ago. I am grateful for all of it. I feel like a caterpillar in a chrysalis being turned to mush. 

For now I will mourn this relationship. The dream I had in my head of what was possible.

It is both a gift and a curse to be someone who sees the best in people, who believes in change and is an agent of transformation. 

He is grateful for my presence and having turned his head with regards to his drinking. 

That was my part in all of it.

I am hardwired to be attracted to people like him with addiction. My brain lights up like a Christmas tree. I have learned to choose my battles. I know all this intellectually.

But my heart. 

My heart hurts as tears run down my face.

Time and faith heal all, and this too shall pass. 

Be well, love.

Standing on my own two feet

Three months ago I put a boundary in place with my parents after a phone call with them that almost landed me in the hospital.

That boundary was 47 years in the making.

My mental health was fragile. I was going through another low and had pushed the call for weeks because I wasn’t at my best. 

I felt judged, shamed and certainly not loved on that call with them.

I set myself up once again, magical thinking that somehow my parents would be able to show up for me emotionally, hold space and meet me. An impossible ask for someone with a drinking problem and a codependent fully living with active diseases and no recovery.

Amidst the pain and crazy of that call, I heard my father’s words:“It’s your life.”

Two weeks later I set my boundary asking for space via email. I would communicate with them through those means when I had to and that was it.

A severing of ties where I give up my power over and over again. Enough is enough. I’m so very tired of being the hero daughter and playing a part that no longer fits. 

The freedom was magical.

I felt peace and gratitude thanks to my Higher Power, 12 step program, the love of my sponsor and friends that I was able to write and hit send on that email.

The response I received hurt, there was no accountability instead there was blame which is a hallmark of addiction and an acceptance of my wishes. 

I had to let go and live once again.

It is on me that I have run to my father with everything over the years. Not trusting myself to make my own decisions. Giving up my power so freely.

I have had some fairly serious health issues surface in the past week and have had to go to my parents to unlock funds that are held in trust for me.

Can you see the codependent ties?

I had to tell my father I wasn’t looking for his input or advice and was going ahead with my holistic treatment plan, trusting my holistic health care practitioner and my body’s ability to heal.

Finally after emails back and forth, I laid out the pattern I am actively trying to fix and have lived in and operated from for years.

I know my parents love me. They are acts of service people according to the Five Love Languages. Their actions over the years speak volumes to their love for me. 

From driving from Prince Edward Island to my home on their anniversary, to help me move out of my former home into my new one when I was overwhelmed and completely frozen part way through. To my mum staying with me while my relationship with my former partner dissolved and I lost the little girl I loved more than anything. To ensuring my brother and I are financially set up in our own homes. 

I may not have been loved the way I wanted to be but I was and am loved.

As I sat in my car after getting out of the pool and swimming laps, drafting the email to my father explaining how I needed to stand on my own two feet. Telling him I loved them both with tears running down my face, I surrendered. 

I hit send and dissolved into tears. 

His response a few days later was what I expected. My father has been my greatest cheerleader, he has always been my go to parent, supported me and been the voice of reason.

He is an incredible leader, worked in crisis management and still is very driven.

I remember him once telling me that I needed to stay calm when the storm was raging around me at work. I thanked him for being that port in a storm.

I need to trust myself, remember who I am and stand on my own two feet and have faith life will unfold as it will.

In recovery I have learned we don’t always get what we want but we do get what we need.

Surrendering and admitting my powerlessness instead of controlling, fighting and trying to shape anything beyond my finger is a recipe for madness.

I want peace, love and abundance.

The Universe has once again, like it did seven years ago, stripped me of everything. Humans renew every seven years, all of this is divinely led.

All of it.

My job is to trust myself, have faith and do the next right thing. That is all I have to do. 

Easier said than done at times but I know I am right where I need to be and life is unfolding the way it is meant to. 

Breathe Natalie, you are looked after and you have got this.

Wish me luck.

A heartfelt amends

The beautiful man who walked back into my life exactly two months ago today has left a profound impact on me.

I am fascinated by humans and our interactions with others. Human relationships are the study of my life. It is how I came to study psychology. I wanted to better understand myself, my family and more importantly, help others. 

I am grateful I took a sports psychology class, followed my passion of athletics and helping amateur athletes. I am exactly who I needed when I quit ski racing at 16. A woman with the lived experience of the demands of ski racing, the pressures to perform and the incredible internal landscape that came along with it. 

I am now blessedly in recovery and will be for life. It is the foundation for my life, gives me tools to deal with life on life’s terms and has given me an incredible family by choice. I am no longer alone and not terminally unique, there is great comfort in knowing my people get it and allow me the space and dignity to process, come up with my own solutions and remind me to live fully.

I know all of this on an intellectual and heart level, however, I also need to give myself the grace I would give to a newcomer or sponsee who got lost in the woods. Being hard, driving forward and not being good enough is what I grew up in. I want soft, gentle and loving. It takes time to unravel and undo patterns and coping mechanisms that have kept me safe for years prior to finding the rooms.

It is easy to operate in a vacuum. Our stuff gets put to the test on the road of life in our relations with others. Nothing triggers our characteristics, good and bad, like relationships.

I grew up with a fixer, a master puppeteer who in the name of love tried to shape both my and my brother’s lives. Control is not love. I know he meant well but they were his desires and his dreams, not ours. I am forever grateful to him for coaching me, for being a technical delegate at my races, my strategizer and cheerleader.

He would stand next to me and tell me what I needed to do to win. I won, over and over and over again thanks to my body, my skill, my drive, discipline and determination. Honed over repetition, hard work and blood, sweat and tears. 

I remember practicing in the backyard at night. My dad had built a start hill because I was still standing in the gate at races when the wand opened. I would come home from school, change into my ski gear and in the back light practice my starts until I got them right. Eventually the pressure came to be too much from holding everything inside, a coach I could not relate to and the external parental pressure. I cracked, which given the circumstances, is completely normal.

I am not unlike my father. Driven, with an incredible work ethic and need to always do better. It is exhausting at times. I have had to temper those characteristics with balance, contentment and being good enough. Yes I want to achieve but I also want to live. We are human beings not human doings. I will not mold myself to live into some outdated notion of what my life should look like.

I can rest. Rest in knowing in this moment, just as I am that I am more than enough. What’s more, I always have been. Loving, full of life with the biggest heart, spirit and smarts. There is a naivety to me which I love, I believe in the best in people, I believe in a better world for all of us. I believe in change, I believe in new ideas and creativity. I have always believed I have been put on this earth to be the best version of myself and to be of service to others somehow, to heal. To love fully, to be loved and to live.

Every day I show up to the best of my abilities with as much loving kindness as I can muster and attempt to find balance while I ride the waves of life.

Back to this beautiful man and his many gifts and lessons.

I fell into the well known role of fixer with this man. Give me a problem and my natural instinct is to fix. I had to take a giant step back from him and do some writing around our program’s 12 traditions which help guide us in our relationships with others. 

My life became unmanageable and I had to admit my powerlessness, back to step one with the focus placed solely on me. Not easy for a recovering codependent. It will be the work of my life to pull back the focus to myself, maintain limits and boundaries.

As I moved through the traditions I saw how every single one had been trespassed. 

I was self righteous believing mine was the only way and did not treat him with the respect he deserved. I did not keep an open mind and fell into judgment. I did not treat him with unconditional love. I did not practice live and let live and be considerate of him. Healing is love, I did not have respect or compassion at all times for him and trust he was and is doing the best he can. I did not accept that everyone will seek the help I have found. 

I made him my Higher Power and became obsessed. There were no boundaries, it is not my job to fix him and offer unsolicited advice. I am not his Higher Power and needed to give him the dignity of taking responsibility for himself. I lived in the tenth tradition and became aggressive and defensive instead of loving him without getting involved in his personal decisions and situations. Instead of preaching, I needed to respect his right to make choices and grow at his own pace. Finally, I’m not sure I did a very good job of protecting his anonymity by keeping his confidences and respecting his privacy. 

When I was finally given airtime to lay all of this down with him, I crumpled at tradition ten because I realized I had done to him everything my father did to me. If my father were ever to make an amends to me this is exactly what they would look like.

Another piece mined, brought up to the light, to be examined, fractured and healed. 

I made a three part amends which is what I have been taught to do around how he must have felt. I then asked him to forgive me and further asked what I could do to make it right.

He forgave me. 

All I felt was relief, sweet blessed relief. I no longer needed to carry all these rocks that were dragging me down. Our relationship has shifted since. I love him and care for him. I was able to tell him as much and to hear the words spoken to me in return. 

I want to be friends with him which is a new concept for me instead of cutting him out of my life which is old stuff from my family of origin. I have no idea what that looks like. It will unfold the way it is supposed to and I will live into the answers.

A heartfelt amends was made, and its sweetness, lightness and peace are truly beautiful.

It is in letting go that you receive

The past month has been incredibly challenging in all facets of my life. From affairs of the heart, to my service position in my 12 step program, to finances and life. No part has been left untouched.

The Universe has sent test after test after test, like a set of waves that keep coming. As soon as I think I have any kind of buoyancy, another one comes and it’s all I can do to tumble along with the wave and come up for air, gasping for breath before another hits.

I have had to deal with incredible challenges in my service position, from a member taking my inventory and telling me how I don’t measure up. To another who threatened legal action because of groups’ double vaccination requirements. It’s been way too much. It has tested me on the deepest of levels, made me question my sanity, worth and why I’m even doing this role.

The first hit was my home group leader who decided after participating in a discussion with me during a meeting that I was lacking respect. We say in recovery when you point a finger at someone, three are pointing back at you. It brings the focus back to where it belongs, on you.

I did what you are supposed to do in recovery when you are called on the mat, I reviewed my conduct. I was out of sorts, exceptionally late to the meeting, my sinus hurt and I wasn’t as patient as I could have been. I called on guidelines that weren’t in place to respect the container that is created during discussions. It is incredibly important to respect them in order to create a safe space where people are free to share with no interruptions, no advice giving and no commenting. 

To be given the space to be truly heard is such a gift.

I grew up in a family where I didn’t feel heard or seen and my thoughts and feelings were invalidated. Having that container in place is very important to me in meetings. It is a vital and sacred space in our recovery.

An adult child trait is taking things personally, I did my best to detach from this person but at one point I crumpled and broke down triggering a deep wound from my childhood where I was judged within an inch of my life. 

I took a moment to collect myself, fighting the impulse to run. Breathing, I calmly said that it is only necessary to say things once, that my tone may have been off and if an amends was necessary then I would make it.

When they go low, you go high. 

The challenge is in the letting go. It is in letting go that you receive.

I sat with everything afterwards, angry and upset. 

I pour my heart and soul into my service position, I love my program and my family by choice. This program has saved my life, given me the foundation I was looking for, taught me how to take life on life’s terms and given me tools to deal with life. It has blessed me with a family and friends I love beyond anything I could ever have imagined. It has given me what I needed, not what I wanted and a life that will only get better and better if I show up honest, open and willing to do the work.

It took a dear program friend to help me bring the focus back where it belongs, to myself. I was hurting because this interaction reminded me of my mother and how she knew to stick a knife where it would hurt most and twist it. Another piece healed and released.

Deep breath. It is in letting go that you receive.

A few weeks later I was notified of an angry caller on the telephone answering service upset because of double vaccination requirements, threatening to storm the doors of a meeting. I hit the books, contacted the group representatives and identified the traditions at play. I offered my support and doubled back to the member who took the call to make sure she was okay. 

The fun continued when the member contacted me directly and threatened legal action. Escalating and wanting to speak to our area delegate. More chaos and madness. I went to my wise, experienced service advisers. Consulted with them and went to the delegate directly first.

Meanwhile my insides churned. My power chakra got activated, I lost sleep and my precious serenity went out the window. The sheer volume of anger, threats and disrespect are not something I am comfortable with. Again I had to look at myself. I could see the situation from the member’s perspective however all of that was lost to the way it was presented.

I was able to right size myself, give it to the delegate to consult with her advisers and let go. 

What got activated in me? My primary value of safety. I didn’t feel safe in the home I grew up in. I do my best to create safe containers during business meetings, especially when we tackled this topic because I knew it would be a challenging one.   

That week I sat in my meeting with my home group, explained the situation and cried. This is not Al-Anon and we are all volunteers doing the best we can. My family by choice held me, comforted me and helped love me back into myself.

Deep breath.

It is in letting go that you receive.

The gifts I have received from these two experiences alone are worth their weight in gold. I’ve healed parts of myself that get triggered in the hopes that next time it won’t hurt as much or have such an impact.  

Deep breath.

It is in letting go that I have received.

Remember who you are

The last month has been challenging, I have been tested on so many levels and felt like I was drinking from a fire hose at times. The Universe kept delivering experience after experience to truly shake my foundation.

My whole life has changed in the past year, the landscape is completely different.

I am recovering from a severe chronic case of plantar fasciitis which showed up in the first lock down a year ago from the mileage I was walking in shoes that were done. The injury represents a fear of moving forward. This is how the Universe speaks to me if I avoid the message, it comes through my body. I was in a dead end retail job, knowing full well I was worthy and capable of so much more. 

I’ve been recovering from the injury and had to give notice after my physio told me this would only re occur. My foot still hurts after nine months of physiotherapy, it’s still got a lot to say.

Time to reinvent myself once again.

This year has been incredibly challenging but also filled with so much growth.

I have had to put a boundary in place with my parents, a need for space after a terrible phone call this summer almost landed me in the hospital while my mental health was fragile. They have never been able to meet my emotional needs or be there for me in ways that mattered. How do I keep expecting things to change? Magical thinking. That boundary was 47 years in the making. I have felt more peace and freedom since. I am so very tired of being the hero child in a family with active alcoholism and the crazy that goes along with it.

I fell in love with a beautiful man. I finally let someone in and the experience was the most incredible gift of healthy love I have ever felt. When two souls align it’s magic. I felt both held and free. It cracked me open and made me realize what was possible after all the work I have done on myself in recovery.

I reconnected with a man from my past I met when I was active in my disease. Still not sure why the Universe brought us together other than to test my values and beliefs. Maybe it’s to show me how much I’ve truly grown. That connection activates me like nothing else, it’s potent, heady and addictive. I’ve realized how my brain lights up because it’s familiar.

Yesterday I finally completed a huge piece needed to move myself forward and release the past. I am part of a class action lawsuit against sexual misconduct in the military. 26 years ago my life was forever changed after I was raped. The man stalked me for two years prior to the incident and kept coming after the assault. It only stopped when he graduated. 

That event impacted me deeply.

I was an incredible athlete, I packed on weight and wanted to disappear. I have struggled to maintain a constant weight since. The level of fear I felt when he knocked at my door and kept knocking is something I don’t ever want to feel again. Holding my breath and wanting the earth to swallow me whole.

I lost a piece of myself that night. 

My relationships with others and men were deeply impacted. Trusting humans after trauma becomes difficult. I have yet to figure out how to successfully be in relationship with another man.

My ability to hold down jobs for any length of time was challenged, I was consistently underemployed. If I had a good job, I self-sabotaged, not feeling myself to be worthy. I calculated the financial impact of that event. I multiplied my salary as an officer without inflation or promotions by 25 years. The amount was 1.3 million dollars. It was sobering.

The circuitry in my brain fried and my ability to handle stress became challenging. I was in and out of psychologists’ offices, unable to handle life. My own addictions came out to play for years after the event. I played Russian roulette with my life. Live fast, die young and leave a good looking body were my motto. I was self centered and self seeking, self-will run riot. If a good man came along, I didn’t know what to do with him and would sabotage things, usually by sleeping with someone else. 

I developed PTSD from the event. I cannot handle crowds, I always need to have an escape route and be on the periphery. When I walk in the woods, if a man comes along my brain automatically goes to how I’ll take him down. I don’t even want to put that energy out there let alone act upon it. 

The need to feel safe has become my primary value in life when it used to be freedom.

Yesterday I finally used my voice and laid to rest the demons and ghosts from the past. I don’t care about the financial payout. All I ever wanted was justice and to be able to tell my story. It’s why I get so upset about injustice, nothing turns me into a warrior more that seeing inequality and unfairness.

Now I can let go and trust that whatever happens is what is meant to be. There is so much peace in that belief. This weight that I have been carrying for years can be put down to rest and I can feel a little more free and breathe a little more easily.

As my body shook and anger streamed out of me while I wrote my statement, the winds howled outside and I kept breathing, kept going, pushing to get this done. Seven documents from my medical file have been added to support my claim: doctors’ visits, HIV tests, psychology and psychiatry reports. I will consult with the legal team before I hit send.

Tears are rolling down my face as I write these words.

Peace at long last. Blessed sweet relief. I have reclaimed yet another part of me and I am so damn grateful.

I firmly believe events happen for us and not to us and that if your Higher Power brought you to it they’ll get you through it.

Remember who you are Natalie.

Powerful, beautiful, worthy, strong and soft with the biggest heart.

Remember who you are sweet one, remember who you are.

In the realm of hungry ghosts once again

There’s an expression in French: “Jamais deux sans trois.”

Loosely translated: never twice without a third time.

As a sensitive and empath I pay attention to what the Universe delivers to me, in my world there is no such thing as coincidence. I usually receive messages in threes. 

If that’s the case, maybe this man from my past and I will intersect once again.

Pain can be transformational. I know this from my own experience, my pain led me to recovery and a 12 step program, however, I know this isn’t the case or the right fit for everyone.

Gabriel Gabor Maté wrote an excellent book on addiction based on his work in Vancouver’s Lower East Side titled In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts.

I am a recovering hungry ghost.

This beautiful man is a hungry ghost. 

Maybe if my recovery was stronger, I would be better able to help him. I remember saying to him in one of our conversations that it’s important in the first year of sobriety in Alcoholics Anonymous not to get involved with anyone romantically as it will jeopardize your sobriety.

I did not heed my own advice.

He reached out after seven days of do it yourself sobriety. Alcohol and any substance or addiction is a symptom of the deeper work that needs to be done. The layers of pain, trauma and ick need to be unpacked. It takes incredible courage, strength and willingness to uncover everything, sort through it all and let go of what doesn’t serve you and reclaim the pieces of yourself. 

The goal is to make yourself whole. It is not work for the faint of heart by any stretch but the promise of living happy, joyous and free truly exists. It’s not some fairy tale goal, it requires work every day to show up and live to the best of our abilities.

In the 48 hours I interacted with him, I again went to my people. I spoke to a friend in recovery about harm reduction which was his goal. It’s not ideal, works for some and I need to respect people’s process. 

Yet the obsession, ruminating and fantasizing on my end continued. I had to keep pulling the focus back to myself every time. I could feel myself getting sucked back into the realm of hungry ghosts.

My dearest and closest friend in recovery kept me real and said I was obsessed with his drinking. “Trust me no one can stop drinking for you and you will never win the battle with alcohol.” True story for him and one he lives with every day with a peace and serenity I do not possess.

This man from my past asked me to keep things on surface topics because his little experiment was going well. I cannot stand surface conversations. Let’s talk about the real, deep stuff that matters shall we? I’m an enneagram four. Did you expect anything less? I also realize the importance of it not being heavy and intense all the time. 

It harkens back to my family of origin who talk about surface stuff all the time because they don’t know how to feel their feelings and don’t have the emotional language to voice them. That’s one of the legacies of addiction. 

There is incredible resistance and friction when we try to change others, it’s also really not fair to them. It places me in a position of being self-righteous which is a definite shortcoming of mine. I don’t want to be right, I want to be happy and free thank you very much. I stated my job was to accept and love him no matter what.

This is what happens when two people do not align. When wounds, attachment styles, and chemistry based on pheromones gets activated. That my friends is not love, it’s a toxic trauma bond. Warning signs are: intense chemistry, instant attachment, addictive love, explosive fights and make ups, thinking I can save them, anxiety inducing, feeling chronically unmet, sacrificing my needs for them and very difficult to leave. 

I barely made it out of a six year relationship based on a trauma bond, it almost broke me. Blessedly the experience led me to recovery.

I did not respect his need for keeping things light and so we got into it via text. It felt like we were speaking through each other in two different languages. I felt spoken down to, not respected and certainly not heard.

Behind every action there is a positive intention. I know he doesn’t want to be a problem for me. I shared the deep processing I had been doing around our interactionship. The full moon was an emotional one and I was feeling all the feels for a couple of days afterwards which is normal for me.

Whatever this is between us has affected me deeply. Fortunately I now have time in recovery, common sense and self preservation to know when it’s not a good fit.

I went against three people’s advice in recovery and re-engaged with him. In recovery we are not in the business of giving advice unless it is asked for which is what I did. I remember one of my first sponsor’s words: “Where do you want to put your life energy?”

This experience has taught me to hold tight to my values, beliefs and convictions. It was a test and I passed. I’ll embrace the lesson and let go of the wisps in due time. I so richly deserve healthy love, affection and attention.

Right now my heart is still hurting. I know this too shall pass.

I hope he finds his way out of the realm of hungry ghosts. There is so much light, love and laughter to be found amongst the living.

When the past comes knocking

A few weeks ago the past came knocking at my door in the shape of a man I used to know.

I am incredibly wary when this happens. I am not the same Natalie I was back then. By the grace of God I have found recovery.

That Natalie was stuck in an endless loop of pain. In my disease, I used men for a good time, not a long time. I did not know how to be in a relationship to save my life. If someone good came along, I sabotaged it usually by sleeping with someone else. I didn’t know who I was or what trust, love and commitment even looked like.

I only knew what had been modeled in my family of origin and ended up repeating a similar relationship. Stuck with another adult child of an alcoholic trying to make things work while slowly breaking myself. I developed a thyroid autoimmune disorder when I lost my voice in that relationship, my body literally started attacking itself. 

I kept trying to make things work because that is what my parents did. The Universe severed my Achilles tendon and forced me to stop trying to move forward. I had to sit with myself, in my pain and ask for help. My first rock bottom. Fortunately an angel in human form had already entered my life by then and she helped me find the rooms of Al-Anon. 

Here I am in recovery all these years later believing I am solid in my new foundation. Enter the Universe to deliver a test to see just how strong I really am.

My memory has wiped a lot of my life back when I was in my disease thank goodness. I did remember this man though for some reason, mostly because of his beautiful car and how fun it was to drive.

So when he popped up via Messenger wanting to be friends, I asked him if he was serious. You see we had never been friends according to my recollection. He was someone I had fun with, period.

As I explained how I was not the same person, he filled in the gaps in my memory. When it comes to men from my past I am an island, surrounded by walls with moats and turrets. No one gets in.

We ended up texting back and forth for a couple of hours. I found the whole interaction more annoying than anything else but I also wondered why the Universe was sending him back into my life again.

A couple of weeks later, I reached out to him again. This time with pictures of my new hair, wanting some male attention. I really need to be careful about what I ask for.

A day later he responds and again we spend another two hours reconnecting via text. This time I enjoy the connection and hop onto a video call with him later which lasted four hours.

Again I think nothing of it other than a really great chat with a super smart, funny and empathetic man.

We reconnect again via video a couple of days later and spend, get this, nine hours on a video call. Everything I learned about limits and boundaries in recovery goes out the window on that chat. I wanted to cut it short after a couple of hours to have dinner and do some yoga, I could feel he wanted me to stay. As more time passed, I was the one who didn’t want to go.

I threw everything I had at him in the form of tests and he leaned in to all of them. We covered Chinese astrology, the Five Love Languages, the Enneagram, north and south nodes in western astrology and finally my personal favorite, your top five values. He was a trooper and I liked him for it, he blessedly asked at one point to talk about pop culture. I suddenly remembered you cannot be intense and deep all the time.

Two people with addictive personalities obsessed with each other. It was heady and you could cut the attraction between us with a knife. I had not felt this intensity of desire in a very long time.

That’s when the alarm bells started going off. I know my brain has not rewired itself enough through recovery and consequently I have learned to be wary of whom I am attracted to. 

In the cold light of day and with distance I could see the patterns. I grew up with a father who was a high functioning person with a drinking problem and emotionally unavailable. My ex was whip smart, funny and emotionally challenged. You cannot feel your feelings with active addiction.

It is not good when a man reminds you of your ex is it?

I grew increasingly unsettled. My precious serenity which I have worked so hard for in recovery and need to protect at all costs was gone.

I threw myself into processing it all by swimming in the lake. I clocked an impressive amount of mileage in the space of a week. 

This beautiful human lives in Burlington, Vermont. It was the perfect fairy tale in my mind. I like my life here and it’s only a four hour drive away. I could see us spending time together skiing and having so much fun. I enjoy my space and having a man around 24/7 at this point in my life would be a major challenge. The prospect of being in relationship with this man seemed like a good one. 

I was all in until I wasn’t.

We went over the 20 questions of Alcoholics Anonymous together on our second video chat, I spoke about the program and the promises found if you work the steps. Given what he shared with me, I knew he had a drinking problem. Addiction runs in families and I could see all of it so clearly. 

A dear program friend asked me if I was taking his inventory. I was stunned. Here I was again going into fix it mode because I care about the guy and now I am invested. Believe it or not, I even said I wished I could walk into an open AA meeting with him. That is exactly what newcomers say when they come into the rooms of Al-Anon. I am not his Higher Power.

I lost sight of my recovery and got caught up in a maelstrom just like that. 

By then he knew I was affected, my wellness went sideways and I was caught up in what it felt like all those years ago to be in relationship with someone who was not well. My emotions were all over the place, all I did was obsess and try to process what was happening.

Not good.

He tried to create space between us to let the dust settle. All that did was activate my abandonment wound and I got angry. A person in a relationship doesn’t get to unilaterally decide when we communicate. I communicate a lot, him not as much.

No one likes being in limbo. In that time I spoke to my people. Again the angel in human form I mentioned earlier helped set me straight. I knew she was the one I needed to speak to, she is a grateful member of AA and has been in recovery longer than I have.

The first thing she said to me is you cannot save him. The challenge will be to help him if he wants the help, to stay solid in your recovery and not get hurt. 

By that point, I knew I did not have it in me to do any of the above.

It is important to note that not once did I ask him if he had a desire to stop drinking. Unbelievable. Where did the Natalie with years of recovery go?

I had to go right back to step one and admit I was powerless over alcohol and people and that my life had become unmanageable once again.

I ended things as honestly, directly and as kindly as I could. Program taught me that. I am not strong enough in my recovery to be involved with someone with an active addiction. By no means was this an easy decision for me to make. I went back and forth on it for a week but I knew deep down what I needed to do.

He would not speak to me via video chat so unfortunately all of this went down via text. I care deeply about this man but I have stayed far too long in relationships with men for their potential. No more. Oxygen mask on yourself first.

I knew in my body this decision was the right one but I was still unsettled. The grief I felt afterwards was incredible. Like a dam broke, I knew I was grieving for the Natalie that abandoned herself over and over in the arms of men who did not give a shit about me.

I practiced contrary action and honored myself this time.

I spent a year and a half with a man who had a drinking problem while I was at university. I stayed a week and half in this iteration. Huge progress thanks to my recovery.

When the past comes knocking, will you open the door?

Love leads us back to ourselves

I was given an incredible gift this summer: love.

I got involved with a beautiful human from the west coast who was in the area for five weeks to visit with family.

I remember pausing when I selected his profile on the dating app, and thinking do I really want to get involved with someone who will only be in town for a short period of time? I considered how well written his profile was which is quite rare and selected him.

Little did I know that taking that small action would lead me to falling in love with him.

He chose mine in return and we started texting, two hours later we got on the phone with each other for another two hours. I remember feeling very much at ease with this man. 

The next day, in true impulsive Natalie fashion, I went up to the cottage where he was isolating in Chelsea. We spent four hours together and the feeling of comfort and familiarity only grew.

He decided to continue isolating after our encounter which gave us the opportunity to speak to each other every day on the phone. I’m incredibly grateful for that time period because I tend to be impulsive by nature and can often jump without thinking things through. I’ve learned through recovery to follow my gut and really listen to the inner leanings of my soul.

I wrote out a list of characteristics I was looking for in a partner a while ago, however I knew how it would feel to be around that person. His very voice felt like home and his nature was incredibly calming. I tend to hold my breath, to be up in my head a lot and to be activated. As soon as I heard his voice on our calls, I felt like I could take a deep breath again. His energy instantly soothed me.

Our histories came out during those calls and connecting with him became the highlight of my days. It didn’t seem to matter what I threw at him, he handled all of it. As codependents, our stuff comes out in relationships. Sure enough as I got triggered, I was able to pause in the space between stimulus and response and not react. Instead of reacting I chose to respond as much as possible.

The old stories from my life that came up were incredible. But I also saw how I had grown in my awareness and my ability to accept my wounds and furthermore, ask for what I needed. I am a big communicator because I’ve lived in environments where there was a lack and can see the benefits of doing things differently, especially in relationships.

I got up into my head about having a man come into my home, two years and a pandemic have indeed left their mark. By then we ended our calls by saying we loved each other and I trusted him, however, my ego had other plans for me in the form of nightmares. This dark entity with glowing eyes held me down in my bed on the morning before we were to see each other. It was terrifying given I have premonition dreams and have been sexually assaulted. It took a lot of compassion to work through and overcome the fear. Safety is my number one value for a reason. Again he was able to hold space for me and love me, he did this over and over in our time together.

The few days we had together kept getting better and better. He was the first person I came to with everything for over a month. 

The day invariably came when I said goodbye to him after dropping him off. It’s like a dam broke, I could not stop the tears streaming down my face. We spoke about staying friends once he went back home but I have no experience with being able to do that with someone I love so I had to let go. Not an easy feat for me and the one action I struggle the most with in my recovery.

He was a bright spot and a safe place to land where I felt both held and free. This experience is the healthiest form of love I have ever felt. That in itself is the biggest gift.

I didn’t realize how much of an island I was when it came to men, especially when my mental health goes sideways. I shut down, wall up and go into a container and only let a select few people in. I practiced contrary action with this man. Something I’ve learned in program because I wanted to live. I feel like I don’t do a very good job of that.

He wants me to stay hopeful and open to love which is beautiful isn’t it?

Endings aren’t easy for me when feelings are involved. Knowing that everything invariably comes to an end is one thing, practicing non attachment and letting go is another.

It took me a solid two weeks to grieve, I allowed myself to feel all the feelings and let them move through me. I practiced extreme self care. I could not have gotten through that time without my bestie, who let me vent, cry and process with so much love, wisdom and kindness.

I am beyond grateful for the gift of this experience, it cracked me wide open and allowed me to feel love and be loved in return.

In the end love never leaves, it simply transforms itself into another form doesn’t it?