Not even sorry. Not even a little bit.
Sometimes, with dysfunctional families no matter how much space you create, certain things funnel and trickle their way down to you.
In my family the gossip always finds a way, probably because no one respects your wishes or your privacy or boundaries or the hard work it takes to stare yourself down in the mirror, uncovering the ugliest parts of yourself that need attention.
Considering I put a lot of my life online- I’m not surprised that there are opinions and backlash and tons of talk.
Openness is never a welcomed concept to people who are ashamed, bitter, or not quite ready to heal.
The pride, nastiness, and audacity of certain people blow my mind.
I’ve tried to reach out in the past and I’ve always been met with contempt and anger and a resistance to allow me to start fresh as a new person.
So I stopped begging for a seat at their shitty table a long time ago.
And to me that’s the true essence of toxic.
It’s that message of: You don’t need to sit at our table, you don’t get a seat at our table, we don’t want you at our table-
and then you get up and leave the table…
And they complain that you’re not at their table.
In order for me to heal in the ways I needed- I had to create distance.
There was no question.
I wanted to better myself, to grow, and to completely turn my life around.
That meant I had to put my head down and start working my ass off every single day.
For years.
I had to undo and redo and learn.
I had to fight and I had to claw my way from the hole that I dug for myself.
I had to own who I had become and how I became her.
I used to get so angry that they didn’t want me around after I entered recovery.
I felt like after so many years that I struggled and suffered as a child as a result of the decisions that adults made, how dare you.
How fucking dare you.
Right?
Like what?
You only approve of the damaged, broken, empty me? The one who lives in contant crisis? The needy one?
You only approve of the version of me who needed you to save me, who aligned with your narrative.
The one who quietly and steadily lived a life that allowed you to ignore the decisions that you’ve made.
Why do you feel like you get to say or an opinion about the choices that I’m trying to make as I heal from years and years of neglect, abuse, and then a long string of my own crappy decisions?
And over time the anger that I felt faded..
and it transitioned to confusion.
I’m not really sure how they even feel entitled to an opinion about my life, especially after having no interest in my recovery…
Why do they have no interest in reconciliation….
no interest in actually having any real or authentic conversations through my healing journey?
Why am I always made to feel like I’m just not quite good enough to fit?
Why does it feel like they refuse to acknowledge their part?
How many hoops until I have redeemed myself?
And after years of anger, and then years of confusion, I have moved into radical acceptance.
Radical acceptance is refreshing.
And I think I’ll choose to stay right here.
It allows me to accept what-is.
Not change what is.
Not attempt to manipulate it or just it or alter it.
It just is.
They just are.
I am who I am.
And we all know (if we are self-aware people) we cannot change other people.
The people in my life who truly know me, who have been by my side throughout this healing process know.
They understand.
They accept me; the true, authentic, imperfect me.
They know my past. The gross ugly details. They know I still fall and I am still trying to adjust to thos side of trauma.
Love and light to them. To all of them, I’m deeply thankful we crossed paths. God uses people to help people.
To the others, the ones who find some sick gratification in tearing me down…
I really do hope you find your own love and light within your own lives.
Human-to-human?
I think you all deserve to move on- to be free of the weight that anger puts on you. Your hatred and mean spirit is simply a reflection of your inner workings. I don’t find gratification in that.
You can let it go and live a more full, abundant life free from the obessive gossip and critical spirit.
It is exhausting to live that way.
Also, lastly, I think there should be maybe a tiny bit of go fuck yourself.
I’m happy-
and I deserve to be accepted for who I am and loved without conditions.