Baby Steps and Codependent Tendencies

This week has been a tough week mentally.

Last weekend, I felt it was finally time to go to my parents house (which I swore I would never do. They HAD to meet me halfway) and sit down and have a talk with them about moving forward. I'm not sure why or where it came from but the feeling came, and I leaned into it. It went as well as it could have. I kept my chin high and honestly had no expectations for how it would go. I simply wanted to start the process of baby steps for moving forward. They were receptive, and we ended up spending a little over 2 hours talking about things and catching up on life in general. Mom was extremely open and warm and loving, and dad was... well... dad. A little high and mighty combined with not accepting responsibility or accepting the real reason I distanced myself. Some things probably will never change.

On Sunday, I saw them again at the class at church. Again, things went well, and it wasn't awkward. I even sat myself at their table for the table discussions time and helped to lead things. I wanted to prove to myself and them that I wasn't scared and that my confidence is real. Mom and I exchanged a few of our smiles and looks at each other that say "I love you." "I love you too." Dad was stiff, however. He acted as his high and mighty self and couldn't actually open up and be a real person. He's always trying to guide people instead of reflecting on himself. Some things just may never change... The hard part for me during that class was when the lady in charge started correlating the church to family and spoke about how you never leave your family and you never turn your back on your family. My parents gave each other looks that basically said "HA! WE ARE RIGHT! ASHLEY SUCKS AND WAS TOTALLY IN THE WRONG!" I wish the head of the program would've given a caveat. Not that it would've mattered. My dad doesn't think he did anything wrong.... The caveat is this. You don't leave or turn your back on a LOVING AND SUPPORTIVE family, but if that family environment is negative and tumultuous and the only way for YOU to get healthy is to walk away, then it's okay.... just make sure that you never ever stop praying for them. This is what I did, and I have no regrets about it. It's just tough to sit there and have your parents not understand... maybe ever.

Later on Sunday, I had the opportunity to share my story with a new friend who is going through something similar with their own family. It was uncanny how similar our stories are... general and specific stories. I hadn't opened up about those stories really to anyone except my counselor in a very long time. Part of me almost wants to forget they ever happened, but I know I need to learn to share them. Sharing will only help to heal. It helped to reiterate that I'm not crazy and the only one in the world who has gone through something like this. This person is about a year or so behind me in their journey, and I hope they will find some comfort in knowing they aren't the only one either.

Last weekend was a BIG weekend for me. Those parts of my heart that I've kept closed for so long are starting to open again, and I want to face them. I want to start healing the deepest wounds. But it's not easy. This week has NOT been easy. Even though the weekend of events with my family stuff was positive, it was extremely difficult on me. It has taken a few days for me to process and fully grasp what I'm opening myself up to again. That vulnerability is scary as hell. I even started to feel myself slip back into codependency traits and insecurities... even my diet changed almost over night and I craved things I haven't craved since I was codependent on my parents. I was even anxious about my HEALTHY relationships in my life and making up in my head that one of my best friends was mad at me and maybe the guy I'm dating doesn't like me anymore...

Why would he want to take a chance on me?
What good did I bring to the table?
Why do I think I'm worth it?
Is one of my best friends mad at me for letting her down?
Will she still want to be my friend if she sees that I'm not perfect?
I'm not really worthy of this amazing friendship, am I?

I can seriously drive myself nuts with these doubts and insecurities. LUCKILY, they haven't come up in a long time, and I was able to stop them. I have learned over time how to stop the cycle before it starts to head downward. I allow myself to feel but then I don't allow myself to stay there. Instead of badgering my friend and asking if she's mad at me and apologizing for whatever I make up in my head, I stop. I take time for myself. I talk it out with a couple of amazing, close people who have known me my entire life. Then, I put my cell phone to the side, and I give it a night. I veg, I pray, and I get some sleep. When I wake up in the morning, I send said friend a text message of love and all is good again. Because in reality...

I AM WORTH HER FRIENDSHIP.
I AM WORTHY OF THIS AMAZING LIFE.
I AM AN AMAZING CATCH AND ANY MAN WOULD BE LUCKY TO HAVE ME IN HIS LIFE.
I AM WORTHY OF EVERYTHING MY HEART DESIRES AND AM MORE THAN ENOUGH!


And SO ARE YOU.

Harmless Lies That Aren't So Harmless

I know I haven't blogged much in a while about my stories of growing up in a verbally abusive household, and truth be told some of the stories are quite short. They're not really stories but tricks and lies to get my sisters and I to believe my dad was basically "god". He knew all and only following his commandments would allow for us to be successful in life. If we didn't follow his word, then we would be failures and end up on the street.

Here are just a few of the lies/stories that stuck with me through childhood and beyond:

• Balloons needed to be released to "heaven". We were convinced to let our balloons go up into the sky and send them to heaven. I can't remember any time we had balloons hanging around in the house for days after a party or an event. [What's interesting is that now, if I get a balloon for my birthday or something, it will sit in my office or room as long as possible until it deflates on its own or I get tired of looking at it.]
• Bedtime was always at 8pm (unless it was TGIF Friday)... Unless it was really 7:30. I never really knew. My parents used to change the time on the clock so that they showed it was 8pm when it was really earlier once I was able to tell time. Also, we were NEVER on time for anything. We were always early and always left early. [It took until the last couple of years for me to allow myself to be on time or even late to things. When you stop and actually enjoy the moment you're in, the time doesn't really matter (with a few exceptions of course).]
• My curfew was 9:30pm. Or was it? I had set my watch to be 7 minutes ahead of the time of the clock in the kitchen, but when I got home from being out with friends, I was conveniently 3 minutes late. How does that happen? Well they admit it today, but back then, they changed the clock to scare me into thinking I was late so that I would never be late again. I even got grounded for being "late" that time. Surely, there's a better way to teach a lesson than that... or just trust that you've raised your daughter to make the right decisions?
• If I didn't give out three compliments a day, I was a bad person who didn't think of others. Sure, it taught me to give people compliments and how to make others feel good about themselves, BUT he could've just led by example. When was the last time I heard a compliment from him?
• Anyone who is 5 shouldn't still be carrying around a blanket. Up until my 5th birthday, I had a blanket I slept with and carried around. My parents convinced me into thinking it would be embarrassing if my friends came over for my party and they saw that I still had a blanket. I refused to give it up/hide it, but then the morning of my party, I gave it to my parents and asked them to hold it so my friends didn't see. When the party was over, I asked for it back. "We threw it away," they said. "We thought you didn't want it anymore, so we threw it away." I can remember crying so hard over that lost blanket and begging them to find it. That I only asked them to hold it, not throw it away.

There are other things, like my dad had me convinced he was omniscient (all-knowing). That he knew when I cussed or said bad things or what went through my head. He used to ask questions to try and lead me to admit things that either I had or hadn't done/said. I can remember a time at dinner when he laid into me about being on drugs (I have never even tried pot mind you.). I was 14 and we were at a public restaurant and he started in on me accusing me of being on drugs. It was so ridiculous that I was laughing, which made him even angrier and made matters worse. What he was really seeing from me was a teenage girl experiencing the ups and downs of hormones. Instead of tapping into that, he accused me of being on drugs. As a matter of fact, I got accused of being on drugs 2 years ago, and from what I hear, my baby sister still does. It's as though he can't rationalize a behavior from us, so we MUST be on drugs. That's the only logical explanation.... OR you can just ask us what's going on and if we're okay... But that would be too healthy to do.

If you have experienced anything like this, know it's not healthy or normal. I have worked hard over the past few years to replace 26 years worth of lies with the real truths. Most have been processed but some pop up every now and again. It's okay to let ourselves process and work through these. It's not an easy road, but once you're on the other side, it's all worth it.

Puzzle Pieces and Baggage

Love is a crazy and amazing thing, but if you're like my best friend and I, you're not quite sure if there is truly someone in this world who will be able to accept and "handle" all of you and your "baggage". We met for dinner last night and had an inspiring conversation about this. You see, my best friend is a single mother to a beautiful and amazing (almost) 7 month old boy. I won't publicly roast her "sperm donor" on here, but just know there are no nice words that come to mind when his name comes up.

Both she and I have what most would call "baggage": She with her little one and me with my verbal abuse history and family issues. Most people would consider this baggage and us as damaged goods. But I prefer to think of us in a different light. I actually believe we are the most equipped for love when it comes our way and for sticking in a long lasting, healthy relationship. We have been able to rise above the terribly crappy cards that have been dealt to us and make amazing lives for ourselves. We are strong, independent women who know who we are and aren't willing to settle for anything less than we deserve because we have been through the crud and refuse to go back. We have become strong enough to carry our own baggage with one finger on one hand and hold it above our heads.

But now the question looming is, who is able to help us unpack it?

That's where the puzzle pieces come into play. Because of the storms we have weathered in our lives, the pieces to our own puzzle have become chiseled and formed so uniquely that we both wonder if someone exists who can fit with us. For me, I finally have a great sense of who I am and who I want to continue to be moving forward. My life is founded in my faith in the Lord and not the opposite. I need someone who lives his life the same. And more than likely he will come with his own "baggage" as the storms in his own life will have molded and shaped his puzzle piece so that it is unique as well.

I sometimes wonder though, does that complementary puzzle piece exist for me? I have faith and hope that it does (and he does). People through the history of time have found each other and have had a lifetime of love. I know the Lord will allow someone to come into my life when it's the right time. Who knows? Maybe he already has. What's important to remember is that while I'm opening myself up to love again, that I stay true to myself and my needs. The love I'm opening up to is the kind of love I've never experienced or had before. This new love will be healthy and balanced and will inspire me to continue to strive to be a better person. As will I do the same for him. I've weathered a helluva storm; the sun is now shining, and I'm ready to find that person that I can continue on this journey with. That puzzle piece that will fit with mine and the person who will help me unpack and stay a (long) while.

"If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans."

This year has been an amazing journey. I have soared to new and higher heights than I ever thought possible. My relationships are richer and heart is fuller than it has ever been in my life. Each day I have had the opportunity to actually live and cherish the moment I'm in. Sometimes that's difficult. On occasion I do still wish away a day or two, but I really try my best not to.

Lately, I have been trying to figure out if a move across the country is where I should go next. Wheels are set in motion, and I'm in the final stages of interviewing for my "dream" company... Notice how I said 'dream company' and not 'dream job'? You see, the company I'm interviewing with is amazing. I've been known to claim that if this company were a person, then I would marry it. [Yes, my love does go that deep.] Currently, I have an opportunity to join said company but I don't want the position I'm interviewing for. It's a place I never considered being in when praying about and contemplating this move. I pretty much only considered that either I'd get the offer and go or wouldn't get the offer and wouldn't go....

But what do you know, a third option exists! It's as the saying goes... "If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans." I hear you laughing God. ;-)

So here I sit still in the interview process but I know this position isn't meant for me. I'm excited though. I'm excited for the opportunity to stay in Atlanta and continue my journey with the people here and my life here. Even if it's only for another few months until the position I really want opens up again...

So what is the point of writing all of this?

I write all of this because another opportunity has arisen unexpectedly (again, I hear God laughing), and staying in Atlanta means the chance to give it a whirl. You see, this opportunity is one that I didn't expect nor did I seek it out.... Nor did I think I wanted it. This opportunity is one to possibly make a healthy, teeny tiny, baby step forward with my parents. My mom will be in a summer class to become Catholic at my church with my dad at her sponsor. I volunteered as a leader of this class 3 summers ago but haven't helped in quite some time. Coincidentally (or not... probably not), the head of the program reached out and asked if I would be interested in helping out again this summer. I didn't respond right away.

I decided to take some time and think on it and pray on it. Along with the job opportunity I was praying on and the new potential relationship in my life. [Did I tell you there's lots of big things going on??] On Tuesday of this week, I was able to gain clarity and made a decision. I am going to help out with the summer classes and allow this to be my next "try" with my parents. I honestly have no idea if it will help anything, but the least I can do is try. God knocks on our door unexpectedly and I am open to where He leads me. This time, I know He has opened a door or window or peephole into a step forward. These classes will allow me to stick to my boundaries and keep us in a neutral environment. I will also be helping to lead it, so I will be in a position of authority. They will get to see that energy from me and hopefully will respond respectfully. Hopefully. Things start two weeks from Sunday. We shall see....

Fifteen Part 2

I've kind of been putting off writing this post. Not because I don't want to share it but each time I put my past experiences on "paper", it somehow makes them more real than they already were and are. Alas, I need to write these things down, so here goes Fifteen, Part Deaux...

At the age of 15 was when my relationship with my parents began the transition from child to adult pretty quickly. When most children should be worried about school work, the opposite sex (come on, hormones!), that awkward stage, and perhaps what pool they would spend their summer at, my fifteenth year (and sixteenth year) was spent consoling my mom and being a sounding board for her.

You see, that year was when my mom started to suspect that my dad was having an affair. Not just any affair, but an affair with a woman who had been working for my dad since I was nine years old. [We will call her "K" for the purposes of anonymity.] K had become a best friend to my mom and the older sister I never had. She was there at every birthday and holiday celebration that I can remember. She was the one who taught me how to answer the phones at my dad's office when I worked there over the summer. She would come to my karate competitions and cheer my sister and I on. I can still picture her porcelain-like skin, thin stature, jet black hair with thin, big bangs. She had some keychains on her car keys that she promised to me when I turned 16 (which she delivered but they have since be tossed out with yesterday's trash).

Looking back, I almost wonder if the affair had been going on for years before we first knew it. My mom started telling me she suspected something was going on between them. Dad always had an excuse for needing to work late and missing dinner with the family. He was also growing increasingly defensive and irritable when he would buy us "things" and we didn't respond in the way in which he wanted. [Insert verbal abuse and yelling and screaming here.] There were countless claims that we didn't really love him and appreciate him. None of us. To which we would reply "of course we do!" through tears streaming down our faces. We were always the bad guys. He was always the victim. In reality, he was the one sinning against his own family.

This affair went on for at least two to three years that I know of. My mom would confide in me and ask me if I knew where my dad was. Try and call him and see if he would answer. She was also confiding in a close friend of the family at the time too. I don't blame her. She had no where to turn. Unfortunately, her confiding in me caused me to lose a part of my childhood. I no longer trusted any man I dated for the next decade. I still have doubts in my mind, but have come to the conclusion and a sense of peace that I can't control anyone but myself. If a man wants to be unfaithful, then that is his decision and he will have to face the consequences. I wouldn't change anything. I'm glad I could be there for my mom and help be a voice of reason or a shoulder to cry on, but looking back, I probably wasn't the best person to pull into the mix. I was just a teenage child.

Everything came to fruition November of my senior year of high school. I was in the basement, and my sisters were in their rooms when my dad came onto the intercom and asked us all to come to the kitchen. It was there where he confessed to us about the affair. He didn't confess apologetically, however. When he told us what had been going on, he put the fault on my mom for the family about to be torn apart. He said "your mom is going to leave us/me if I didn't tell you what I just told you". "Ask your mom not to leave us. She is about to walk out the door right now." [I'm sorry, but last I checked DAD, you were the one who cheated and screwed up. If mom wanted to leave you, she had every. single. f*cking. right.]

This confession left my sisters in tears and me doing my best to stay strong for them. They begged my mom not to leave dad just like dad wanted them to do. They made mom feel guilty for even considering it when I hoped she would be strong enough to walk out or better yet, make him walk out. Later that night when I got home from cheerleading, I can still remember going in my closet, shutting the door, and crying my eyes out. Finally, the truth had come out but the truth had become reality. My dad wasn't this man I put on the pedestal. Let alone the verbal abuse; he didn't only cheat on my mom; he cheated on us.

For years afterwards, I would have nightmares about my dad and K. About him confessing that he was in love with her and going to marry her. It wasn't until well after I graduated college that those nightmares subsided. Now, the nightmares have since gone away, but my relationship with my parents was and will forever be changed.

Your Tears Are Not Over Me

I heard you were crying over me yesterday Mom. That breaks my heart.  My instant reaction is to call you and see if you're okay, but the reason you're crying is not really over me. The reason you're crying is because you miss me, but the choices you have made are keeping us apart. When dad made you choose between him or me, you chose him. When I reached out and offered to meet you half way with our relationship but kindly asked you to not tell dad everything we spoke about, you told me he was your husband and you wouldn't keep anything from him. When I explained that his judgements and negativity weren't welcome and that is why I preferred to keep our relationship between you and I, you repeated that he was your husband and you would stand by him.

I get that. I do. He is your husband. But I am your daughter. I would love to share my life with you like we used to do, but I cannot if I can't trust you. Every time I do, I get burned from it. The last time was Thanksgiving. Again, I reached out and offered out a hand to try and start the healing process between us by all going to counseling. The counseling was refused but you asked who my counselor was. The daughter inside me relayed every piece of information I could in hopes that you would actually take me up on my offer. You did not. You relayed the information to dad who then tried to manipulate his way to indirectly control my life again. That is not okay.

You are not crying because of me because I have not done anything to cause you harm. I miss you mom, but it has been your choice not to invite me to holidays with the family. To not partake in counseling sessions. To not meet me at a coffee shop just to talk.

If only you knew how many days and nights I spent crying over how we were treated growing up. How dad treated (and still treats) you. How dad treated (and still treats) my sisters. I never wish you tears over me. Ever. But I am done being the one who tries and puts the pieces back together. I cannot and will not waste any more of my tears and time on people (whether family or not) who only tear me down. Perhaps there will be a day when things change. I hope and pray for it. However, today is not that day. Be happy with your choices because you did choose them. Always remember though, you can change your choices for the future and take a stand for your own heart.

I love you mom.

The Letter I Can't Bring Myself to Send

The below letter is one I wrote just to write after a suggestion from my counselor... but I cannot send it yet. I fear it will hurt my parents to hear the words I say. That they will take it as an attack and not for its intended purpose: to give them peace. So for now, I am posting it here.

-----------------------------------------

Mom and Dad,

First let me start this letter off by saying that I love you, always have and always will. You always made sure we had a roof over our heads and food on the table. You allowed us to go places and experience things most kids would only dream of. You raised me to be a kind, empathetic, driven, and successful woman. You taught me the value of hard work and dedication and that I can accomplish anything I set my mind to. You worked your butts off so that I could have the best future possible when I got out on my own. You made sure to attend just about every football game and cheerleading practice and competition I participated in. For all of those things and many more, I will be forever grateful to the both of you. 

It is through those life lessons and life experiences you taught me that my eyes were also open to the dark things going on in our own lives. My entire life, you always tried to protect me from the bad and dangers of the world. Unfortunately, what you didn't protect me from were the bruises and scars of verbal attacks that occurred within our home. I know I'm not a parent yet, but I know a parent should balance helping to protect their child from the evils of the world while also helping them to learn to fly on their own. Throughout my life, I felt like a caged bird that was allowed out on occasion but had her wings clipped preventing her from ever actually learning to fly on her own and experiencing the world for herself. 

Dad, you always tried to hammer in that I should have respect for myself while in the same breath calling me stupid or a b*tch or telling me I was fat and going to fail at school, friendships, relationships, etc.  What you should have been trying to do is build me up. This world is a crazy, scary place and our family's purpose should have been and should always be to be supportive and positive for one another. Constructive criticism is okay in doses when a child is young and still learning things, but I am an adult now. I need parents that I can share my life with as much or as little as I choose, and they don't judge, criticize or put my choices down. They are my choices. This is my life. 

You may think you don't know me anymore, but the fact is for 26 years, I didn't know myself. All I knew how to act and be was how I thought you wanted me to act and be. There was a light in me that dulled almost to the point of going out completely until three years ago when through much prayer, I decided to take control of my own life. It was time to stop letting you control my decisions and only do as you say to do. It was through that decision that I actually became the woman you always raised me to be. In fact, I am more than you could have ever dreamed of. The only difference is you aren't actively in my life anymore. Would I like that to change some day? Absolutely, but for now I need to keep my distance. 

Finally, for the first time in my life, I am strong from the inside out and I am SO incredibly proud of myself. I am successful and pursuing my dreams, and my dimmed passion for life has been turned into a burning flame. I have richer friendships and relationships than I ever have in my life. In fact, the relationship that has become the richest of all is the one I have with myself; I finally, actually believe in myself. 

The truth is I am still the daughter you once knew only stronger and better. I had to distance myself from your negativity to get to this place. To find out on my own that I could stand on my own two feet and in fact, wouldn't be a failure. Because of you, for so long I was afraid to truly live my life for fear of failure. You always put the fear of failure into my head and told me I was going to fail unless I did exactly as you said. I was never enough for you. Never smart enough, thin enough, got good enough grades, kind enough, perfect enough. But the truth is, who I am now and who I was before was always enough. I am enough. I am more than enough. I am an amazing woman who has learned about unconditional love, not from my own parents, but from God and Christ our Savior. He loves me and didn't give up on me at my lowest of lows, and I am so thankful for my relationship with Him above all else.

This may be hard for you to read, but I wanted to give you some insight into why I have chosen to keep my distance the last couple of years. Again, I love you guys more than you will ever know. In spite of the scars, I am able to forgive you because again, if it weren't for you, I wouldn't have a lot of the foundation that has enabled me to get to this place today. I love both of you unconditionally and pray that we can reconcile one day. For now, know that you are always in my prayers and on my heart.

I love you,

Your daughter

Stuck in My Head

My dad hasn't called me in two years. My mom hasn't called me to talk and say hello without some ulterior motive in probably about the same amount of time. My sister defriended me on Facebook late last summer, but she wasn't much of a phone talker/communicator anyway.

And I'm okay. 

This is something I always feared. My worst fear. That I couldn't survive without my family. However, I am not just surviving. I am succeeding beyond my wildest dreams. I have a good job, great friends, great extended family members, and am chasing my passions. Every day is better than the last. 

That being said, there are some days where I get stuck in my head.

These types of days used to be a common occurrence, but now they are few and far between. [Praise the Lord!] Typically, these types of days are brought on by some sort of indirect or direct communication with my family. And today is no different.

The two times my parents have reached out to me this year were something involving the church and them. The last time it was to renew their vows, and they invited me 6 days before to attend (even though I knew they had known about it for at least a month or two). This time my dad has been invited to an informational session about becoming a Deacon of the church. Of course, he couldn't pick up the phone and call me and tell me. He texted me a photo of the letter. 

I'm skeptical of each and every time they make some sort of contact, whether direct or indirect. They never, ever ask me about me and how I'm doing. I broke up with my boyfriend of 2.5 years in October last year, and I know they know, but they still haven't asked about it. Instead, they use the church as an 'in' with me. They know the church is a huge part of my life and my heart, and an easy way to get a response from me... and I always respond. However, I feel bad for being skeptical since this pertains to the church. Who am I to judge where he is at in his faith journey? I also know I am a large reason his faith journey is back in progress (whether for pure reasons or some sort of sick, twisted form of manipulation is TBD...).

The truth is, I can't help but immediately think that my father, who stopped attending church regularly in 1990, is using his incredible charm and mastery of manipulation within the church. I don't think he went into it knowing they would invite him to possibly become a Deacon, but I do know he knows how to use his power and words in such a way to always make himself appear in the best light. "Perception is reality" according to him. How does one start attending church regularly 5 months ago and all of a sudden get invited to possibly become a part of the leaders of the church? My gut doesn't trust it.

I have become a skeptic. But I think that's okay. It's myself's own way of protecting my heart and the life I have built for myself. He spent 28 years acting one way towards me (and my mother and sisters) and proving that he is a master manipulator... a few months in the Church restoring his faith makes me hopeful for him, but does not change my gut about him. 

I hate days like today. I wish they didn't ever happen, but they do. I've found that if I accept the days for what they are and allow myself to process, then I wake up the next day and choose to start fresh. Perhaps I can choose to start fresh sooner. I have to trust my gut and have faith that everything will work itself out. I can only control myself and my reactions to the things that happen. 

I am, right this minute, officially choosing to make the rest of today great, and not waste another minute on letting this get me down. IT WILL ALL WORK OUT!

Because of You

I am at a loss for words today, so instead I wanted to post the lyrics to a song that still to this day draws up so many emotions. It epitomizes how I approached life for 26 years because of a verbally abusive, unfaithful father and a codependent mother who accepted it and didn't stand up for herself. BUT I refuse to continue to live my life in fear of getting hurt and failing. Our chances only run out when we stop taking them. 2013 is MY year and I am no longer a victim of the circumstances I was born into. I am in control of my present and future and taking chances, I am and will.


"Because of You"
Kelly Clarkson

I will not make the same mistakes that you did
I will not let myself
Cause my heart so much misery
I will not break the way you did,
You fell so hard
I've learned the hard way
To never let it get that far

Because of you
I never stray too far from the sidewalk
Because of you
I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt
Because of you
I find it hard to trust not only me, but everyone around me
Because of you
I am afraid

I lose my way
And it's not too long before you point it out
I cannot cry
Because I know that's weakness in your eyes
I'm forced to fake
A smile, a laugh everyday of my life
My heart can't possibly break
When it wasn't even whole to start with

Because of you
I never stray too far from the sidewalk
Because of you
I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt
Because of you
I find it hard to trust not only me, but everyone around me
Because of you
I am afraid

I watched you die
I heard you cry every night in your sleep
I was so young
You should have known better than to lean on me
You never thought of anyone else
You just saw your pain
And now I cry in the middle of the night
For the same damn thing

Because of you
I never stray too far from the sidewalk
Because of you
I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt
Because of you
I try my hardest just to forget everything
Because of you
I don't know how to let anyone else in
Because of you
I'm ashamed of my life because it's empty
Because of you
I am afraid

Because of you
Because of you

Honor Thy Father and Mother

"The fourth commandment says to honor thy father and thy mother.  I guess you've overlooked that."

My father said this to me in February 2011. Coincidentally, it was about a month after I started a new job and two months before I moved out of my parents' house and in with my roommate. I know he knew change was brewing. He was losing his control over me and words like this were his way to try and guilt me into remaining the battered little bird. And you know what? He was on to something.

My dad always knew which of my buttons to push that would make me doubt my choices and my self worth. The "honor thy father and mother commandment" was quite possibly my biggest struggle when deciding to take control of my own life. How do I essentially turn my back on the two people who gave me life, put a roof over my head, food on the table, and countless luxuries most kids would only dream of? This commandment means to put them above my own passions and wants and dreams, right? It means that I owe them my entire life, right?

Wrong.

To honor thy father and mother doesn't mean any of those things. To honor them means they have to honor you first. Sure, it's not in one of the ten commandments, but neither is honoring thy wife or husband. We all still need to honor one another in a family (or not family) or we cannot expect to be honored in return. To honor [to me] means to show respect and love for the other person. I wasn't being shown any respect yet I was being expected to make every minute of my day about my dad and mom. If I didn't bring home a bottle of vodka for my dad, I was chastised because he was out, and I should've checked ahead of time. I was a bad daughter if I didn't sit out on the porch every night with him while he drank his minimum of 4 "cocktails" and smoked his cigars. To my dad, that was honoring him. (Nevermind the fact that I have asthma and was a 25 year old who yearned for a social life.)

Needless to say, when I got my own job on my own, not of his dictating, bought my own car that I chose (not leased like he insisted), and moved out on my own, he wasn't feeling very "honored". In fact, on the day I moved out, he stood in the hall of their house watching my friends and I move my stuff. He did not lift a single finger to help and he bitched the entire time about how the dogs were going to get out.

But I digress.

It wasn't until I met with a priest in 2011 that I realized in order for a mother and father to be honored, they must also honor their children. That it is OKAY as a child of an abusive parent, to walk away. You don't have to accept the abuse, but NEVER ever stop praying for them. If you must walk away to stop the abuse and better yourself, then walk away. I tried and did everything I could to fix things before making that choice. Once the choice was made, it wasn't easy. I prayed and cried many days and nights over the guilt I felt for "abandoning" them and not being the glue that held the family together anymore. However, I deserved and deserve to be honored and respected. Not just sometimes. All of the time. Each and every one of us do.

Never accept anything less.

The First Time

In spring of 2006, I was in my 4th year of college and about to graduate. I had the world at my fingertips (or so I thought), and though I had no concrete career prospects, I was ready to start a new chapter of my life. All I had to get through was one class in summer the first summer session and I would be off. My mom and I were closer than we had ever been. We spoke every day on the phone, and she was without a doubt one my best friends in the entire world. I told her everything.

This was a problem for my dad.

The first time he openly expressed his displeasure was at the end of spring semester that year when I was trying to move my stuff to the next place I would be living while I finished up my last class of college as my lease had run out at my current apartment. We were talking about my impending move and arguing yet again about where I would live after I finished up my last class at college, NC, FL or GA (his choice was GA). I was sitting in Starbucks on the phone with him asking him what I should do to get help moving my stuff to the storage unit (as I couldn't take it all). He screamed at me, saying "WHY DON'T YOU ASK YOUR MOTHER SINCE YOU TWO ARE SO CLOSE?!" and hung up on me. Real mature right? Evidently, after that conversation he told my mother that her and I's friendship had become a big problem and he wouldn't stand for us being so close anymore. Needless to say, I figured out how to get my stuff moved with the help of a couple of friends. (Lesson I've come to learn: Everything, and I mean everything, always has a way of working itself out if you don't give up.)

At the time, I had a close friend with a father who was VERY similar to mine. We all called him 'Dick' because his name was Richard.... and it was quite fitting for him. Well Dick was as controlling and verbally abusive as my father. The only difference is that when Dick made his wife, my friend's mother, choose between him or the children, she chose the children and left him knowing she could very well be left penniless, but at least she and her children would be distanced from him.

This happened a couple of years prior to 2006, so I found comfort and was able to confide in my friend and her mother about my family situation. They both urged that I take a stand and start living my own life. Whatever I decided to do about my future, they would support me. They even offered to help find me a job in FL and let me live with them until I got on my feet. The next time my dad and I spoke, I stood my ground and firmly told him I would not be returning home to GA after I finished my last class. I had a job in NC that would allow me to pay my bills until I found something in NC or FL. He yelled some expletive that I cannot remember for the life of me, told me he was taking my car away and that I would be on my own, and hung up on me (again... notice a pattern?). After he hung up on me, I walked myself into the most popular restaurant in Chapel Hill and spoke to the manager and got a second job as a server on the spot. I was determined to be 100% on my own with or without my dad's support.

For the next week my dad tried EVERYTHING to get me to change my mind once he realized I wasn't backing down. He called me and threatened to leave my mom. He called me and had my sisters on the phone in tears begging me to come home because dad was going to leave them if I didn't. I knew he was bluffing so I called his bluff. The next call that came through was a bluff I called and hoped and prayed he wouldn't follow through with it.... The last and final time he tried to get me to change my mind and come home to Georgia, he told me he was going to kill himself if I didn't. Let me repeat that... my dad threatened to commit suicide if I didn't move back home to Georgia per his wishes. Like I said, I called his bluff.

The next call that came through was a few days later. He conceded and said I could keep my car because he couldn't bare the thought of me being stranded without one and something happening to me. I had won. That was the first time I attempted to take control of my life and break out of the controlled cage he had me in.

Within a few months, I got my first "big girl" job at a consulting firm all on my own which is an amazing story in and of itself. Over the next year, I worked harder and longer hours than I ever had in my life; I fully supported myself, but he was never proud of me. Ever. Eventually I decided to move back to Georgia so that I could be around my baby sister while she finished up her last few years of school. The good thing with consulting is you can live anywhere as long as an airport is nearby. So to Atlanta I went and moved in with my parents. My dad treated me as if I was the lowest human being on earth. I had to work to get back in his good graces. I would wake up and go to the gym with him, offer to make him a drink (he drinks 4-5 cocktails a day). I bought him starbucks just about every weekend morning and spent as much time with him doing whatever he wanted to do. I did everything I could to try and prove my love to him to get him to love me back. In retrospect, I should've done a lot of things different because it was through this that he regained control of me and my life that I had fought so hard for a year prior. My wings were clipped and back in the cage I went.

Lonely

You know, it's funny. I always thought that if I ever didn't have my (immediate) family in my life that I would be miserable. That life wouldn't be able to go on, and that I would be the loneliest person in the entire world. The reality is that I am the least lonely I have ever been in my life today after having distanced myself from them and their negativity. It's funny how sometimes our biggest fears are just big, made up lies we tell ourselves because we are too chicken to take a risk at choosing a better life for ourselves.

It's been almost exactly 2 years since I made the conscious decision to move out of my parents house and in with my amazing roommate and start the transition to taking control of my own life. Prior to the move, I lived with my parents for a little over a year. Prior to living with my parents, I lived with my sister for 1.5 years. Prior to living with my sister, I lived one floor above my sister in an apartment complex, so I could be there for her when she needed me. Prior to living one floor above my sister, I lived with my parents.... notice a trend? All of my living situations after college revolved around my family. In fact, every. single. thing I did was a choice made with the help of my dad's "guidance" or a fear of disappointing him.

Looking back, it's crazy to think how many decisions were made because my dad put the fear of "dad" in me. There was no fear of God taught in our house. It was always the fear of what dad would think, say, or do. I will get to specific examples in future blog posts, but nothing was off the table with him. How much I weighed (family weigh-ins still occur to this day), how long or short my hair was, what color my hair was, where I went to college, what car I drove.... etc. And all of those examples are since becoming an adult and getting out on my "own" after college.

Back to the point of this blog post.... I always thought I couldn't live without my parents. That life would not be able to go on when they passed one day down the road. However, now, I not only know I can live and survive without them, I believe and, more importantly, know that I can succeed and fly on my own with my own wings. It is the most amazing feeling in the world.

This past Christmas was the first Christmas I've ever spent alone. Leading up to the holiday, I was anxious about how I would feel. Would I be at my lowest of lows? Ashley, THE family girl and THE Christmas girl. I'm the girl who starts listening to Christmas music on November 1st. I bake tons of goodies and am totally in the Christmas spirit for two months straight. But this year, I had no family to share it with. [A little caveat, I had a good friend who allowed me to join his family on Christmas Eve and I was so blessed to be able to join them.] The day of Christmas arrived and I had a couple of gifts under the tree from my cousin and a good friend that I opened alone in my room. I went to Christmas mass, picked up dinner at McDonalds (thank you to them for being open because no grocery stores were! DOH!) and came home and watched Christmas movies. The day in and of itself ended up being a beautiful day. Not beautiful in the physical sense, but beautiful in the sense that I was filled with a sense of peace the entire day. There was never once a feeling of loneliness, just peace and thankfulness for where I was on that day spirituality and in my journey.

The truth is I was lonely for 28 years straight. I remember crying in my room as a kid feeling like my heart was broken and not knowing why. I didn't know what the word lonely meant, let alone being able to attach it to how I was feeling. But I was lonely. Even in my last relationship, I was lonely until the day we broke up. The feeling of loneliness is awful as a child and perhaps moreso as an adult. The last time I truly had a breakdown as a result was about a year ago after my 14 year old dog had passed. There I sat, tears streaming down my face as if they would never stop, kneeling in the corner of my ex's condo with no one around to comfort me and tell me it would be okay. To say I felt helpless was an understatement. It was at that point I decided enough was enough. No longer was I going to be the victim. I had to see someone (a counselor) and eventually take control of my life.

Flash forward to today. I have no boyfriend, no dog, and no (immediate family). But what I do have is an amazing sense of self confidence that I've never known before provided only by God's grace. I have extended family members and best friends that have become like my own little family. I am no longer lonely. I wish I could bottle up this feeling and sell it to those who need it. It is incredibly empowering. While I can't bottle up my peace and joy and sell it, I intend to share my story with the world and help others get to this same place in their lives. No one deserves to be lonely and no one deserves to accept the hell that I accepted for 26 years.

The Journey

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice --
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do --
determined to save
the only life you could save.

-Mary Oliver

Fifteen

In trying to collect my thoughts and figure out where to begin this blog, I decided I would post whatever was on my mind and heart on the given week and outline this by age.

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Fifteen was the age when I lost my fire. My zest for life -- Gone. My dreams and goals became irrelevant and unattainable. The vivacious, always smiling girl who once dreamed of conquering the world, becoming a famous actress and had the world in the palm of her hand, had lost her spark.

At the age of fifteen was when I first realized that my body was imperfect, and my father was not the man who I set on the pedestal all those years before. I don't recall which came first, but I can pinpoint that at the age of 15 was when my dream world came crashing down.

At 15, I was into my fourth year of cheerleading and a sophomore in high school. I cheered both for my school team and on a competitive cheerleading squad. Needless to say, cheerleading was my life. I ate, slept, and breathed it.... and loved every. single. minute. Fifteen is when most people have their awkward time but also really start to figure out who they are and what makes them unique. For me, 15 was when my nickname went from "peanut" to "pudge" and my life truths became defined by my dad's verbal abuse and lies....

I can still remember the day vividly. I came home from cheerleading practice in the spring, and my dad was waiting in the kitchen for me. I said hello and gave him a big hug and started to walk up the stairs to my room when he stopped me. He said, "Ashley, how much do you weigh?" I responded with "I don't know. I don't weigh myself." To which he replied, "You look like you've gained weight; let's go weigh you." At that point my dad was my world; who was I to say no? I was comfortable in my skin. Sure, my metabolism started to fall a little and my thighs had gotten larger due to all of the tumbling and cheerleading, but that's normal right?

Off to he and my mom's bathroom we went. The scale was waiting there for me like it knew to expect me. I got on the scale and waited. The final weight read "108". I'm 5'1". 108 is a good weight for an extremely active and fit, young female right?

Apparently not, according to my dad. He told me, "Your new name is Pudge. I knew you were looking heavy. You could drop five pounds." He and my mom were on the Atkins diet, and he suggested I join them. Again, at the age of 15, who was I to question his knowledge and authority? [In hindsight, I should've been not only questioning him, but should've refused to get on that scale. As they say, hindsight is 20/20 right?]

On the Atkins diet I went. At the age of 15. I started analyzing everything I put in my mouth. No bread, rice, pasta, or potatoes. No sweets either. God forbid I reach for ice cream or a cookie. From that point on, any time I reached for something he didn't approve of, it was "step away from the [insert food name here]! You're only going to get bigger by eating that." This carried on for the next decade.

Sure, he may have had my best interest at heart, but I was FIFTEEN. He knew I hung on his every word, and he used it against me. His plan backfired. After he and my mom went to bed, I would sneak and binge eat whatever I could from the cabinet. Donuts. Cereal. Chips. Everything I wasn't allowed to eat during the day. My weight would creep up, and then I would crash diet to drop the weight. This carried on for the next six years. At my largest, I weighed in at 128 lbs in college. At my lowest, 108 pounds. Yes, you read that right, I never dropped below the original 108 lbs that my dad scoffed at until I started to take control of my life again.

Currently, I'm 28 years old, 98 pounds, and still 5'1". I'm a healthy weight for my frame and size per my doctor and my own sense of self. I do yoga twice a week and am happier than I've ever been in my life. It wasn't until I distanced myself from his verbal abuse that the weight started to naturally fall off. The more I tried to impress my dad, the heavier  and unhappier I got. Shopping was a nightmare. I would literally sit in the floor of the dressing room and bawl my eyes out at what was staring back at me. It got to the point where my mom and sisters refused to go shopping with me. I hated everything I tried on. Analyzed every bit of "fat" that was pouring out of my clothes. I was miserable for 10 years. Bathing suit season was awful. I would always try and hide myself when I was around my parents. My dad got my mom in on it too. Both of them would judge and make comments that made me feel as if I was the ugliest, fattest person in the world. "You have a beautiful face Ashley, but no guy is going to want you if you're fat/don't lose some weight."

I wish I could say that was the worst of the verbal abuse, but I can't. That was just the surface of abuse and lies that filled my head until 3 years ago when my journey out began...

[Part 2 of fifteen to come...]