#chasingyes

I thought I was grieving the loss of my marriage.

I thought he and I were on the same page about being amicable and "family" (because friendship requires more effort than either of us had capacity to do).

I thought I would struggle to write our story because I believe in forgiveness and honoring a person's integrity and reputation by speaking kindly about them when they're not around.

I thought we could go for a hike, to lunch at our favorite restaurant, and have a nice day before I loaded up the very last of my things from his house.

I thought I'd have time to consider if there was anything more I needed from his house, just in case.

I thought we could still go to events together in the future.

I thought I could buy one of his properties from him under contract without issue because that's his other business, and I've watched him be so kind and helpful to others when it came to housing.

I thought he could be kind and helpful to me.

Damn.

I was wrong.

The moment I heard him making the joke he has always made about his ex-wife having "served over 20+ years in that prison," how it cost him a million dollars during his first divorce, but that he "got off easy" with this one because his sentencing was shorter at seven years and it was only going to cost him a "couple hundred thousand this time," reality came crashing down on me HARD.

If I except anything more from him, including things he'd already agreed to such as points for travel and custody of one piece of artwork "the parrot," then I would always be the butt-end of his jokes and there would be truth to it.

I immediately called off the house deal, I left everything behind at his house, and I told him, "I'm done with you," as I dropped him off at his house and drove back to my apartment crying most of the way home.

Since Saturday (it's now Monday), I've transferred all the points back and cancelled my trips, I've removed all of his social media from my access (except one that I can't seem to remove off insta), I've closed out all of my streaming services that I was paying for him to have access to over the past six months, I've cancelled all deliveries to the house that I paid for to "help" him out, I've ensured I've removed everything I manage and have been responsible for off my schedule (except a follow through on finishing the website over spring break), and I'm arranging to drop "the parrot" back to him.

I'm realigned with myself and my integrity.

Nothing I was given was worth the price I had to pay for it emotionally and mentally. Nothing. I did the calculations of what I saved him over the years in services I provided over the past seven and a half years: Private chef: $36K- $168K annually (depending on how much we ate out) including grocery shopping and cleaning. Daily maid services: $14K+ annually for standard daily cleaning including laundry services for bedding and towels. Live-in Personal Admin Assistant: $51K annually in Oregon Part-time Marketing Assistant: Approx. $25-35K annually Professional Listener: $40K+/- annually (A Professional Listener is someone who provides a safe, nonjudgmental space for others to talk and be heard. They actively listen, offer emotional support, and help people process their thoughts without giving advice or therapy.) Travel Companion: $37K +/- annually Travel Agent: $5-10K annually

It's not an exaggeration. These numbers are on the conservative side and none of it includes the additional pet care or handy-woman work I did without mention for him over the years, or the sweat-equity I put into both of his houses; and then some.

And, it's funny to me now, how much I resisted most of his requests for help but how slowly over the years I felt more obligated to do these things because I could never generate the kind of income he expected me to make- I just have a different view of money and didn't care in the same way he did. So, I started doing too much for him in order to feel worthy of his generosity and gifts. It was all my way of evening out the playing field. Unfortunately, I don't think he ever saw it that way.

I think he mostly thought I was using him.

I wasn't.

I was loving him.

I was giving all of myself to him.

The issue with that last statement is that one day I turned around and I was gone. Everything I liked about myself had been stripped away. I was sad and depressed. I was lonely and heartbroken with a man who didn't like me and certainly didn't love me (I know because he told me).

So, that's it.

I'm done with him.

It's overwhelming how quickly time passes.

Funny how when I was younger it seemed as though it was moving at the pace of a slug; agonizingly slow. Then, suddenly time is racing by and half my life (if I'm fortunate enough to live until I'm 100+) is over!

Just like that... 53+ years have gone by.

I want to finish my doctorate.

And, I'm tired of working so hard on a degree that seems to be evading me daily, as I struggle through all of life's surprises and grief. I struggle the most when the women I admire in the program walk away for lesser reasons than I'm struggling with in my own life. Their actions cause me to doubt my own abilities.

If they can't do it, how will I?

I question my intention, my worth, my wisdom, my ability. I mean, I haven't written towards my dissertation, I'm beyond credits, and I'm overwhelmed by the process of researching, verifying resources, and taking notes; which I haven't done in months because I overthink everything. Even updating statistics for a presentation last week took me hours, and ended up feeling irrelevant after the fact.

I want to write my book.

And, I'm tired of working so hard on healing and changing only to be left feeling lonely and judged by the very people for whom I was putting forth so much effort. I'm tired of being afraid that the story I have to share will hurt the very people who hurt me. I'm tired of caring so much about people who cared so little for me. I'm tired of feeling guilty for doing something I haven't even done yet.

Why do I care so much for others who care so little for me?

I question my intention, my worth, my wisdom, my ability. I've tried for years to focus my attention on those who demonstrate love and caring for me instead of chasing after those who don't. I nurtured relationships, only to eventually have THOSE people start to pull away. I ended up feeling like only I was putting forth the effort. It feels as though I have very few supports in my life right now.

These are the lies my brain produces.

I have lots of evidence to contradict all of my doubts. I've got straight As in my doctoral program. I'm able to balance my life and my choices to produce successful outcomes. I manage my time effectively most days. I'm able to write as much or as little as I want daily. I've made a plan to succeed and I know how to implement it. I have friends and family who check in on my fairly regularly. I have a therapist that I probably need to see more than once a month. I know several healers who support my growth. And, my children, siblings, and dad check in on me to the best of their abilities.

I'm blessed.

It's been 12 years since I started Green Star Motivation. I've made less than a thousand dollars in all those years. Although it's a failed business, I wouldn't call it a failure for me. This idea was born from abuse and became a beautiful and safe place for me to heal myself, share my story, and help others do the same in their own lives. It's time to put it, my past, and my dysfunctional relationship with my mom to rest.

It wasn't an easy decision but it also came to me after my father rejected me in the most painful way, and showed me that even after 12 years of healing... some people didn't change, instead they hid.

Me included. I'm getting my official diagnosis of ADHD and Autism completed. The latter takes more time, as it requires a four-hour long psych evaluation and has a waiting list of 12+ mos. to have it done. However, my psychiatrist believes I'm definitely on the spectrum. We're going for diagnosis, so that I can have it on file with my work and school to help accommodate my needs better. I'm 52.

It almost seems unnecessary this late in my life and career; however, it's important to my future self to have this in place. I don't know why it is, but I feel strongly about it. That makes it important. I deleted my Green Star Motivation social media weeks ago.

Not one person said anything to me about it, so I know it was mostly just important to me. That made me feel a bit sad. I came home from work the next day and packed up all of my business cards and marketing materials into a box for the sole purpose of having a burn party later in life. I simply don't have the capacity to do it now.

I'm not going to stop blogging. I will, however, change the name of my blog and stop using the businesses' hashtags and logos. Green Star Motivation served a great purpose...

Lately, it seems like each day of my life feels like I'm trudging through mud just to get to the end of it. When I first learned of my ADHD and possible Autism (AuDHD) diagnosis, I felt a sense of relief that my issues weren't PTSD related and that I'd done a fairly good job of managing the impact on my life. However, as time goes by, I've come to realize that I've spent my entire life "masking" and trying to "fit" in society, make friends, and create a sense of family, while simultaneously wanting to be "safe" at home and not be bothered by others.

I'm odd.

I don't allow myself to truly express the way in which would make me feel safe and authentic because I know these things are socially unacceptable and would create more isolation for me. I decorate with an eclectic style of things I've collected throughout my lifetime that each represent a frozen moment in time that brought me joy or a person whom I love. However, if this were MY house, I'd have one room where I wrote on the walls. Another that was plastered with overlapping photographs, like wall paper, of all my travels and joyous moments. I'd have a room of green. Another of all things soft. My spaces would be designed to meet my texture and sound needs.

The more I learn about AuDHD, the more so much of my life makes more sense. Things like why I didn't ever cry whenever I was told people died or my mom was hospitalized. Or why every time I smell beer I want to gag or throw up. Or why smooshy foods like mashed potatoes or soggy bread cause me to get upset. I recently watched a video about a person describing certain sounds that caused them to react negatively, throw a tantrum, or want to gag. I've been trying to explain this to my husband for years.

The issue is that none of it changes for me, even though I have the answers. The sound of the dinging when a seatbelt isn't put on in a car makes me want to scream. I can't stand certain music because it contains tones that cause me to get angry immediately. Certain smells create a gag reflex, and sometimes those smells are what others consider pleasant.

I'm sad. I'm grieving. I'm overwhelmed by life and work. I hate that I list out in my mind every step of a task as I complete it. "Open the cupboard, take out the glass, shut the cupboard, turn on the water, place the glass under the water for ten seconds, then move the glass, shut off the water, put the glass up to my lips to drink, swallow the water in gulps (counting each one), then put the glass in the dishwasher by opening the dishwasher, pulling out the drawer, put the glass down, close the drawer, shut the dishwasher."

That's just for a glass of water.

These narratives run through my mind throughout my entire day, while simultaneously thinking about my past, my now, my future, and all the things I need to do.

I'm not, nor have I ever claimed to be, a perfect human. I make all kinds of mistakes on a daily basis. I learn from most of my mistakes Sadly, the ones I've made with the family I raised and my family of origin keep me from living my fullest and best life. I'll do my best to explain, knowing that some of what I'm writing contradicts itself and/or my own beliefs.

I do believe that everyone has the right to choose who they want to have active in their lives. And, I also believe that ending a relationship with another person can be used as a control tactic and that the person on the receiving end is at the mercy of the other. Let me see if I can explain this better.

I didn't get a choice in my divorce. It was thrust upon me. I didn't get to choose for two of my children to go no-contact after a lifetime of working things through. I wasn't given a choice to never hear from my closest niece again. I have absolutely no idea why after twelve years of connection, healing, and relationship building, that my father would tell me to leave him alone forever. I had no say in my brother deciding that he no longer wants us to "meet in any way" again.

Did I play my part in these failed relationships? Of course I did. However, my ex and I were amicable and still had family time together for nearly two years after our divorce. Then, he suddenly decided he was done. I've a niece who ended a close relationship and used my words against me as justification for doing so. My kids and I spoke at least weekly, if not daily, for many years after they became adults. They became more distant from me after I met my now husband because of my inability to deal with changes in my life, but we'd kept trying until suddenly one tells me they had only met with me to end our relationship and the other just started to ignore me for years. I tried too hard and made too many mistakes, which drained them emotionally.

Over the past three years, I've learned through the internet about my daughter's college achievements and my son's born son that I've never met. My niece has two beautiful children. My dad expressing himself freely without judgement from me. Their lives seem to be better without me, but my life is certainly not better without them.

I may have played a part but I didn't get a say. None of these family members actually know me, or have taken time to ask me about who I have become or who I am. Instead, they've taken details from their own lives and sporadic interactions with too much passing time in between and created a version of me that they can reject. I'm easy to hate if you freeze-frame me on one of my worst days.

Imagine you know someone your whole life, but then decide to only focus on all the "bad" things or "negative" interactions you've experienced. It becomes easier to reject them. Plus, you're in control. You now get to determine aspects of that person's life without being accountable for the pain and suffering you've caused them.

This is where things become contradictory because what about the pain and suffering I've caused them? Yes, I have caused pain and not handled myself in the best manner possible.

No excuses.

And, I'm a communication person. I believe all relationships can be healed and managed with mutual respect and clear communication. However, both parties must be willing to get to know each other more than they think they do. They've no respect for me. I lost that over the years. Unfortunately, none of them can articulate to me how.

As for me, not only have I worked hard at therapy and trauma healing over the past three years, I've accomplished so much in my life. I've moved. I'm in the process of getting a diagnosis that helps provide a framework for my undesirable behaviors, such as emotional deregulation during stressful encounters and blurting out what is on my mind without considering the implications. I've also worked to become more aware of the importance of setting boundaries for myself and taking "time-outs" to think before I speak.

These are all great attributes that have improved many of my relationships. Unfortunately, I've no control over my family's willingness to consider reconciliation and forgiveness. I've the desire to heal but no power in the pain.

re·​ject [ri-ˈjekt]: to refuse to accept, consider, submit to, take for some purpose, or use.

love [ləv]: strong affection for another arising out of kinship or personal ties.

I keep being told this by different people in my life, "I love you. I don't want you in my life anymore."

One doesn't seem like the other. It seems to me like rejection is almost the exact opposite of love. For if it isn't, then I do not want your kind of love. It hurts too much. It's cruel. It gives you permission to abuse and bully me, say you're sorry and love me, then push me away.

None of that seems like love, nor is it how I would treat those whom I love.

It's one thing to set a healthy boundary; which is done by stating what actions you will do if someone causes you harm. But, straight up rejection... I mean, I guess it's a boundary. I just don't necessarily think it's a healthy one because it jeopardizes that person's relationship with everyone else innocently connected to both parties.

It's happened too many times to count, and I'm tired of the pain.

"Fine.

You want out of my life?

Great!

Stay out.

I'm done being your emotional punching bag."

I wish it were as easy as that for me, but it's not.

My heart is broken. My soul is confused.

I question my very existence. And, all because you decided in this now moment that you lacked the emotional maturity to navigate a relationship with me? The irony is that you likely believe you're doing the mature thing by walking away, but it's simply not true.

Trust me. One day, you'll turn around and realize you've demanded others behave in a manner that's pleasing to you, instead of getting to know them. And, since you couldn't understand your part in any conflict, there's no one left to reject. The "middle" as you called it was not getting your way... the "middle" is acknowledging both (all) could be "right."

"Yes... and..."

"Now, god damnit, Tammy... I'm sick and tired of the drama and the sensationalism and shit... you're just using this for an excuse to make contact with me. No more!"

Whose parent speaks to them like this as an adult? Mine.

These are some of the last words my dad spoke to me on a voicemail. They now live rent-free in my mind repeatedly echoing throughout the middle of the night after I awake from yet another nightmare. I'm 52 years old and I still experience regular nightmares about my childhood despite thirty years of counseling and five years of intense trauma therapy these past five years. I still wake up crying, sometimes screaming. I've been told my whole life I'm being dramatic, when really I was being traumatized.

For weeks now, I keep telling myself it doesn't matter what my dad thinks of me. Let's be real, he's never really liked me. I allowed myself to believe that for the past twelve years he and I had built a new, healthier relationship. Heck, the last time I saw him we hugged and he had tears welling up in his eyes as if it would be the last time ever. Then, just a few weeks later, he's being nasty mean like he was when I was a child, saying cruel things, and telling all of his kids he hates them and to leave him and his wife alone. No contact, unless he initiates it... as if he has control over our behavior as adults. Yet, somehow he does.

In my previous passage, I mentioned that as a child, I would tell him over and over again, "I love you," only to be ignored or dismissed. I was in my forties the first time I recall my dad telling me that he loved me back. I swore we had healed our shattered relationship but here it is shattered again, only this time I care because it matters. My dad is aging and his health isn't great. It's quite possible that we said our final goodbyes. I'm angry.

I'm angry that he couldn't be healthy. I'm angry that he let me down. I'm angry that he continues to be verbally and emotionally abusive towards me. I'm angry that I believed for the past twelve years that he was proud of me and loved me. I'm angry that I was vulnerable. I'm angry that I let my guard down and he hurt me again. I'm angry that my willingness to forgive and grow seems like a wasted effort. I'm angry that his emotional maturity isn't higher. I'm angry that he has the audacity to believe he knows who I am simply because I refuse to keep quiet about my pain. I'm angry that people call me dramatic for simply communicating in effective and socially acceptable ways.

One of my favorite books is The Four Agreements by Don Miguel Ruiz. If you haven't yet read it, I suggest you do. It's a quick read, but it takes time to process everything being said and a lifetime to practice the principles. One of those is, "Don't take anything personally," which is easier said than done because so often how others choose to treat us feels personal. And, sometimes, it is. Recently, I've had several people block me off their social media. It took me years of healing and learning how to better regulate my emotions to not take this type of rejection personally. Then, I found out that it was very personal. This is where I get intellectually and emotionally stumped and discombobulated (my favorite word btw).

I believe we each have a right to determine who is in our lives, including family. I also believe our family is essential in our lives, providing us opportunities to learn, grow, heal, and connect. Family helps us better understand ourselves and teaches us how to manage conflict and express joy and love.

Life can lose purpose and joy without family. We eventually learn that friends and acquaintances, regardless of the years between you, will often move on once you change, grow, heal, or move, but even if you go no-contact... your family is still your family. Frequently, they grieve a never-ending grief that goes away the instant contact is restored. The friends we keep for a lifetime often become "family" to us because the bond with family stands the test of time.

I get it. There are family members many of us would rather not be related to or know. For years, actually decades, I avoided my dad like the plague. I held him in contempt for a past that could not change. I listened to the stories others told me, and I believed them because those stories reinforced my disdain for him.

Then, after my mom died, I realized I'd been treating strangers on the street, drug-addicted and often criminally insane people, better than I was treating my own family. I held more compassion for their struggles and trials. I immediately felt ashamed of myself for never taking the time to sort out the "truth" of the past.

For the eight years following her death, I called my dad every Sunday. He didn't always answer, but I called nonetheless. I did this until a few years ago after he'd met his now-wife. I adore her. I stopped calling so frequently because my life was in turmoil, and each time I called, he spent most of the call talking to her and ignoring me. I often felt I had walked into a conversation I wasn't supposed to hear.

However, over the past twelve years, I learned so much about who my dad had become and started caring less about who he was. He and I spent much time talking, healing, growing, and forgiving. We became family again. Anytime others wanted to speak ill of him, I either defended him by saying, "That's not the relationship I have with him," or I would tell them I didn't want to hear anything negative about my dad.

I love my dad. I love our relationship, even though sometimes he behaves in those "old ways." According to The Four Agreements, how he treats me is not personal, good or bad. Still, sometimes, it's personal. Either way, he's my family. I'm so grateful.