Tammy Black-Day

For the past few weeks, I've simply been letting each day unfold as will. I don't put forth more effort than I have to give on any particular day. I've been going to bed later, waking up later, and sleeping as much as my body needs.

I need a lot.

Some of the rest is coming from learning that my lung capacity isn't the best, so my allergist specialist prescribed me a new inhaler to help. I've been sleeping hard almost every day since. Crazy it was such a simple fix. More importantly, I've released my ties and grief to my ex.

All gone.

I can't exactly explain how it happened, but it was fast when it did. In a simple moment, I was over the grief and anguish I'd been carrying for so many years. Maybe it came from personal insights? Possibly from crying too much over someone who simply wasn't that into me? I just know that I woke up one day feeling better. And, then, I went to Sedona.

Sedona is calling me.

I love Arizona, and I fell madly in love with what little I saw of Sedona. For me, it wasn't the exact location so much as it was the feeling of my authenticity. I reconnected my body and soul. I felt myself align with myself. I experienced a shift in my mindset. Suddenly, years of "whoa is me" became "see me." I am Goddess.

Years ago, I would attend spiritual and healing workshops/trainings at Unity. During one of those, I claimed the name "Goddess of Light," and so I became. For nearly a decade, people referred to me as Goddess. I introduced myself as Goddess. Suddenly, I felt Divine and purposeful in those years. I embodied this energy. I showed up as a confident Goddess.

I lost myself.

Oh, for so many years, I simply disappeared into my healing, pain, and suffering without a sense of purpose or understanding as to why I had to keep repeating old lessons or experiencing a life time of traumatic events. That's what shifted suddenly a few weeks ago. It was a "click" of knowing myself again.

In Sedona, I stepped back into myself. I introduced myself as Goddess. I had moments of unsureness and insecurity, but those quickly passed as I realized I'd been designed for this experience. It was a birthright. From a new totem, the dragonfly, to alone time driving four and a half hours out of my way to create a new story about Winslow, I was made for this life as Goddess of Light.

I connected with the spiritual healer who came to do a sound bath, of which I was unable to participate because of my sensory issues but I wasn't sad about it. I simply took care of me. I drew a double-death reading and she asked me when I was moving to Sedona (everyone was shocked). I've spoke with her sense and am considering my options.

I also feel a calling to Unity again. One that hasn't felt this strong in over a decade. So, I'm open to this option as well. Quite possibly a pathway is opening for me to stand in my self on my own and be who I've come here to be.

Goddess of Light.

Educator.

Healer.

Friend.

I'm fighting with the ruminating thoughts in my head daily.

This is what happens when I have too much time to myself.

I think.

I waste time just pondering my life, your life, all of life. I think and think.

Sometimes, I realize I've no time to waste because my students are relying on me to do my job. It's the only time I've been active lately. I stopped working out daily. I stopped eating healthy daily. I stopped taking care of myself daily. I cry daily. I miss my people daily. I'm sad daily. It's all sort of stupid, too, because my life is pretty nice overall.

Each time I meet with my dissertation chair, she reminds me that this journey is not just about completing the task of research and writing the dissertation; it's a journey in resilience.

I understand what she means, but it's almost as if I need to continue to prove what I've spent a lifetime proving... I'm resilient.

Seriously.

Why do I keep repeating what I already know to be true. I'm a survivor. I can beat the odds. I can do the improbably and sometimes the impossible. I've adapted and thrived in ways that most people would not. I've continued to show my reslience.

This makes it challenging to have desire to continue moving forward. It can't be about resilience anymore for me because I've reached my breaking point. A few weeks ago, I'm accused of academic dishonesty for an error in action on my part. I copied a title page from a previously submitted paper from another course to avoid the tedious task of navigating APA formatting in the midst of grading 100+ speeches. I've done it for every paper I've submitted. Only this time, I got distracted and forgot to change the information on my title page. Actually, it's possible that I forgot to save the changed submission. Either way, I was accused of submitting a formally graded paper. Stupid.

That's not the issue for me. Actually, on my end, I thought- that's stupid of me and simply provided screenshots as proof to the false accusation. However, the professor insisted.

That was it.

That was my breaking point moment.

I haven't looked at my coursework since.

I've attended my university for five years; and a previous as alumni in my masters program.

I get it. AI is overused. Cheating is on the rise. I see it in the courses I teach. However, anyone who knows me... well, it's not in my nature to cheat or be dishonest. Not that I haven't ever been in the past. It's just, about almost 20 years ago, I got "right" with myself and others by getting in alignment with my own integrity. Sure, maybe when I was young (teen - thirty), I had questionable character. However, I worked hard to ensure that was not the legacy I leave behind.

I'm not even mad about being accused. As an educator, I get it.

I'm upset... no, I'm fucking pissed off, that in a Doctorate level AI Ethics course, my instructors first and second impressions was insisting that I was being unethical. And, that no matter what I said or proved, her accusation was all that mattered.

So, I'm left pondering why I continue to give my money to a University that's founded in honesty and faith... when the worst I've done was to get a bit lazy. It's sad and I don't know what to do or why I gave them so much when they believe in me so little.

That's it.

I'm pissed.

I got pushed over my edge.

Now, each day of my life, I simply wake up, do my work, and go to bed.

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.

Do you remember that show from the late 80's, Quantum Leap, where Dr. Beckett "jumps" through time into different people throughout different timelines? It's a cool show. I never truly understood the concepts of quantum physics until I saw the movie, "What the bleep do we know?" from 2004.

It completely blew my mind that we could have all the infinite possibilities of the entire Universal realm playing out simultaneously. That we only experience the exact one we focus our attention on, but that it could change at any moment depending on our choices and our focus, is phenomenal.

This is happening in my life right now.

I can actually tell you the exact moment of the "leap." It was right before I reserved my apartment. I remember telling my husband that I thought it was funny that they approved my application for the apartment the day after we decided I would stay in Newport and soundproof one of the rooms for me to work. All he heard me say was that the apartment was available. He looked at me with (too much) great joy, and exclaimed, "Great! When are you moving?!" I said that he knew I couldn't afford the rent on my current salary, and he told me that he would pay for it.

It was right then. In that moment, I knew whatever I decided would change the course of my life and my relationship. I felt something shift in me as I said, "I'll call them tomorrow to figure out when I can move in." Funny thing about those decisions is that for a while people hang on to everything they were told would come to be; that it's temporary, for the best, we'll figure it out, we'll go back and forth between the house and the apartment, we'll take turns spending the weekend. I hung on for dear life, until the peace of living alone started to shine brightly in my soul.

I leaped into a whole new, unexpected timeline.

It's the healing version of me, who knows how to have healthy relationships and set realistic boundaries about my own behaviors without telling others how they can and cannot behave.

It's the one where I can have courage to hold an abuser accountable, ask forgiveness for my part of staying silent and allowing others to be harmed, not care for the answer but instead block his access to me, and still walk away with peace in my heart and forgiveness for myself.

I leaped into peace and calm.

I know how to care for myself; physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and financially. I'd been doing it all along but allowed myself to be convinced that I wasn't capable or allowed others to perceive that my now ex-husband was taking care of me when he wasn't and hasn't for years. I leaped into myself and the timeline filled with adventures and travels. Happiness and joy; filled with honoring my failed marriage for everything it taught me, as well as celebrating my ex-husband and maintaining the healthiest parts of our relationship as companions (from a distance), who will still travel together and be there for one another as we've been doing since the divorce was decided- mutually.

My quantum leap out of victimhood and self-gaslighting into confidence and independence is remarkable to experience. Since January 1st, the day of the divorce decision, I've booked eight trips (utilizing resources, accepting generous gifts, and navigating point systems), set myself up to become debt free, reconnected with people I admire, set boundaries with others, allowed flow into my life; I've been accepted into Jesuit Honor Society, been accepted to speak at a leadership symposium, been promoted at one of the colleges where I teach, and been accepted into a Gonzaga leadership course in the summer to hike the Santiago portion of de Camino in Spain!

Simultaneously, I'm witnessing the disconnection of my dearest friends, with whom I thought I would be able to celebrate all these things, and allowing those relationships to shift. Instead, they're simply living their own lives, and I no longer fit into it. In fact, as I reflect on my life these past two transitionary years living at the coast, I realized they had disconnected long ago but still picked up the phone for my next inevitable crisis. Six months ago, I started only calling when things were good and tried my best to focus on them. I just think my efforts were too late for the damage I'd caused by my inability to regulate myself. It's with great awareness that I grieve the loss of all things I thought would be in this new paradigm. I know that each loss is the Universe creating a void for the next evolution of my life. I've known it all along.

Still.

There are moments when I experience much grief and longing for those who aren't with me. I miss my youngest daughter. It's been four years since she went no contact. I miss my niece. It's been seven years since she went no contact. I miss my sister. It's been nearly five years since she went no contact, and two years since she stopped in person contact but will reply to my messages. I miss my mom, who died nearly 14 years ago. I miss my grandma, who died just a few months ago. I miss family. I miss the people who loved me all those years ago but couldn't stay by my side through my transformations because they were busy with their own.

And, it's okay.

Sometimes, though, the grief pulls at me hard, and I cry until there's no more energy to feel the pain that courses through my soul. It's only in those moments I remember that I absolutely know my purpose is to heal and be a light to other women to heal. So, I feel my pain and get back to the hard stuff; work, learning, living.

I'm so grateful to be alive and to still be in awe and wonder.

Believe in magical things! Believe in miracles! Believe in quantum leaps! Believe in yourself!

Faith is simply knowing it gets better without knowing how, and honoring that it's all temporary for now. Shine on,

I have no idea what this day will bring.

I'm longing for something I've yet to experience in my life. I'm not exactly sure what it is. Maybe it's an unconditional love, or pure adoration, or maybe it's simply finding my tribe of people who accept me just as I am- all my quirks and flaws. People who express their authenticity without expecting me to bow to their ways.

It's been months since I've written anything. It's all a blur. One day I'm struggling in my home and trying to navigate my marriage, and then I'm suddenly moving into my own apartment but still trying to navigate my marriage.

It's great and sad. It's depressing and calming. It's all the things. And, it's nothing.

I enjoy my peace.

The other day, I learned of a dear friend's death.

He was one of my best friends for many years, until we had a falling out that started with me overreacting to him and my husband's response to my behavior in public. In hindsight, I wish I'd been a bit more mature with my response. Instead, I turned to social media. I didn't vent, just wrote that I'd been "shushed" in public. I wasn't concerned about any fallout from it because my friend no longer had a social media account. However, a family member shared it with my friend, as the person had also become friends with him over time.

Drama.

It all felt so dramatic and unnecessary. I had apologized for my behavior and did all I could to repair. Needless to say, he took sides and expelled me from his life. Over the past couple of years, I've worked hard to reconcile my past and accept accountability for causing others pain. I tried to reconnect but wasn't able to do so, though the family member did. I'll admit, I felt betrayed by both of them.

Last year, a mutual friend reached out to let me know that my friend was not well and he was moving in with his aunt to go on hospice. I guess I just assumed someone would reach back out to tell me if/when he died. They did not. Instead, the family member reached out the other day and asked if I'd heard from him because it had been quite sometime since they'd received a response. I reached out to the mutual friend and was told he died last year.

Hearbroken.

That word doesn't even begin to describe the mixed grief, pain, anger, sadness, and sorrow washing over me. I'm feeling lost and confused about the entire situation. And, selfish. I don't care right now how my grief and processes for managing it affect others. This SUCKS! I always thought he and I would one day repair our relationship and I could give him all the gifts I'd bought for him over the past few years during our travels. Now, I keep staring at his coaster that reads, "Shut Your Wh*re Mouth" in a cross-stitch pattern, sitting on my desk. I can hear his voice saying it to me.

All I can do is cry and laugh simultaneously.

Grief is so hard.

I'm concerned about someone who is dear to me. I recently saw a photo of them on socials and it appears there is something wrong based on their appearance.

This person, once vibrant and active in their community, is barely smiling in their photo; though the people around them seem quite well and happy.

Currently, I'm focused on doing daily activities to boost my metabolism and center myself. I'm also exploring three different programs designed for personal growth toward embracing authenticity and empowerment.

I often forget to start with me.

Now, I don't actually believe that you have to love/like yourself before others will love/like you. I think that's nonsensical thinking, designed to shame people into feeling unworthy. Simultaneously, I also believe that when it comes to your personal media, writing, artistic outlets, etc. it's important to like yourself first.

Basically, why should other people enjoy my art, photos, dancing, singing, content videos, etc. if I'm not taking the time to "like" it. Today, I remember to start with me and work my way out into the world. I like my own content, not out of arrogance but out of appreciation for learning and becoming.

Do you like your stuff?

If you don't, then keep learning and growing until you do, or let it go. Either way, try not to dwell on the mistakes or the learning process. This includes when it comes to you as a human. If you dislike aspects of yourself, work on changing what you can and learn to accept the rest. This is an ongoing process.

Also, it's important to remember these things: 1. Wherever you go, there you are!

2. You are currently living out your past choices. *This one is often challenging for people to consider, especially if they are a victim of their circumstances. To be clear, this is reflective of my own life. For example, I ran with scissors when I was five, fell down, and stabbed myself in the forehead. I choose not to run with scissors. This past choice is part of my current reality. Granted, this is a relatively innocent example. However, the same is true when choosing to quit a job or relationship, or return to school. All of those choices accumulate to produce my now life. I'm living my choices. This is fantastic! It means that I can choose differently if I don't like how my life is going.

3. Change is happening all the time! Endless opportunities!

4. Authenticity will sometimes cost you relationships! (Those are not your people, even if you thought they were. People who walk away from you when you are being YOU, they were around for other reasons.)

5. EVERYONE IS MAKING IT UP AS THEY GO ALONG!

It's funny. I love having people around me, I just don't necessarily enjoy when they invite themselves to stay the night with us.

It actually causes me great anxiety.

Mostly because I prefer to have my house fairly clean before company arrives, so that it sets the precedent that our home's natural state is clean, as it typically is. I just prefer to scrub toilets, clean floors, and dust a little.

Unfortunately for me, all the "rules" of people staying get tossed out the window when it comes to family. I received several days notice that my in-laws are staying tonight. However, no one bothered to ask me if having them here would interfere with anything.

It does.

Its interferes with my life. My routines. Noise levels, etc. I need more than a day or two to mentally prepare myself to be a "hostess" to others. I need time to get ahead on my work and school load, so I feel no guilt about visiting.

I'm feeling frustrated.

Most of my life has been spent looking to the experts for information, rules, and advice on how best to "human," since I lacked many of the basic skill sets to navigate life, relationships, emotional regulation, conversations, etc. The biggest issue I faced was that I'd been told my whole life that I was stupid, which to me meant that everyone else in my life was an expert except for me. This includes when it came to my own body.

I remember in ballet at the age of five when my teacher smacked my tummy and told me to "suck in that fat belly," as she made certain everyone else knew that I was what "fat" looked like. I didn't go to ballet anymore because fat girls couldn't become ballerinas.

I remember when I told my childcare worker that I needed to go the bathroom really bad. She told me, "no, you don't," so I messed myself and got in trouble for not telling anyone I had to go. See, she lied and said I never asked to use the bathroom. After that, anytime someone told me that I didn't hear or see what I heard or saw, I convinced myself that I was making it up because they were smarter, older, or knew more.

I remember that anytime someone brushed my hair, it hurt so badly that I would cry and scream and wiggle away. I was told that it didn't hurt because they were barely touching me. That I was overreacting and being difficult. So, I learned to ignore pain because how would I know true pain if them brushing my hair felt like someone was pulling my skin off my body but I was being told that it doesn't hurt.

I remember a dentist telling me that I wasn't feeling the drill into my teeth. He said it wasn't possible, so he pushed my head back into the chair and continued to extract two more teeth as tears streamed down my face and I choked on my breath being blocked from the cloth in my mouth. When he was done, he told me that it wasn't that bad and I'd be fine. I didn't leave my house for six months after this.

I remember towards the end of that six months when my ex-mother in law insisted I go to a therapist, who often tried to blame me for my relationship issues and told me that I had to take a shower every single day and do hair and makeup (if that was typical for me) to ensure I didn't get depressed anymore. He told me it was the best way to take care of myself. To this day, I feel guilty if I miss taking a shower. That was over 20 years ago.

I can't remember how many times throughout my life time that I allowed men to do unmentionable things to my body because they told me it felt good, that it was normal, that I liked it, and they loved me. I would clench my teeth as they did whatever it was, or I would fake noises that I had been told were the right way to express pleasure. I obviously didn't know what pain felt like, then love was supposed to be the way they said it was.

I remember when I fractured the ball joint of my femur in my hip; split it in half I found out later. I told my chiropractor that nothing he was doing was helping. I told him that I had to lift my leg into bed every night and it felt like my leg was just falling out of its socket. For three months, I was told it was getting better and it couldn't hurt as bad as I was saying it did. Three months before an x-ray technician lowered the camera and found the misaligned, mostly healed fracture.

This was the moment I realized that I was the expert of my body, of my life. I started trusting myself. I started to stand firm in my knowingness of what was happening for me. I pushed back with dentists and doctors when they said nothing was wrong and I just needed to lose weight. I learned to trust my body to tell me when something wasn't quite right.

It's what led me to my autism and adhd diagnosis. I kept advocating for myself to my therapist and doctor about my challenges with food/impulse control. I kept explaining that I knew it was possible for me to not struggle because I hadn't always had an issue with food or weight. Plus, I was starting to fail at all the things I was good doing, such as writing, teaching, singing, etc. Something was off.

It's funny because just one month after my autism diagnosis, a new psychiatrist was hired. The first thing he did when I said I needed to change my medication was to tell me that he didn't think I had autism or adhd, but instead was bipolar. It took me twenty long minutes of insisting he was wrong and him asking for proof before he finally said, "Oh, I guess I didn't read your chart as closely as I thought. You were on bipolar meds 25 years ago and they didn't work because it says here you had ptsd."

I was so angry inside because it was one more so-called expert trying to tell me what was going on inside my body. However, I simply smiled and said, "When can I start the new adhd med?" He prescribed it the same day and I was feeling like myself again within three days. Go figure!

Look, my point is that you are your own expert. It doesn't matter how much education or knowledge or training someone else has, you know when something is different, or wrong. I'm not saying to avoid doctors or dentists; I'm simply saying that you know your body and mind better than anyone. I know this because: I wasn't fat, I was a little kid who rarely ate because I had food/texture issues.

I do have to use the bathroom, often urgently, at the last minute because I don't "feel" it until it's almost too late.

It DOES hurt my hair to have it brushed. It hurts so much that I rarely brush my hair. Instead, I use tons of conditioner and my fingers to gently detangle. I only use a brush once in a while after I've washed my hair and it has to be a soft bristle brush. It still hurts.

Taking a shower hurts! I hate it. I'd rather take a bath but our house doesn't have a bath, so I shower. It feels like prickly needles on my skin. It's the same reason it hurts to brush my hair; sensory issues.

Dental work sucks for me. Fortunately, there are many kind and courteous dentists in the world. I found one who talked me through every move she made. One time, she tried numbing my mouth as many times as was medically possible. When I told her I could still feel the needle, she stopped and waited several weeks before trying again. Turns out, I've high pain medication tolerance.

My body is aging and I do feel pain, a lot of pain sometimes. I know not to wait three months before getting the right kind of help. Although, I will admit my other hip has been hurting this past week but I've yet to get it checked out. (I will soon).

I love hugging!

I used to not love being hugged. However, after years of attending a new thought church and getting to know people who made me feel safe, I learned to love hugs. Deep, long, breathy hugs are the best from someone you know and trust.

I also have major sensory issues. This means I have to be ready for the hug; mentally prepared for someone touching me. Unfortunately, there's an entire older generation of women who simply do not understand personal boundaries. They will literally grab you and pull you into a hug to "make you feel better," without understanding that it actually makes you feel worse when you're experiencing a sensory meltdown.

This happened three times this past week.

Fortunately for me, the fourth person to start to grab me stopped herself because she remembered I have sensory issues. She then asked if I would mind a hug, and I was able to say, "No, thank you, not today." It was so empowering! So much so that I was able to stop several unwanted hugs last night at an event. All the women seemed quite offended at my request for no contact.

I felt safe.

This morning, I was able to thank the woman who stopped herself from hugging me and asked instead. I told her that her actions helped me to stand up for myself and create a healthy boundary. I then let her know that if she'd like, I was ready to experience her hug. She smiled and hugged me just enough to let me know I've been seen and validated.