My Dearest Boys: Part One

As I sit here and choke down the anxiety lump and the profuse taste of emotionally induced vomit, lets take a moment to rewind.

For many years I was the primary parent and attachment to my children. Which also means that my goals, dreams and often so, my needs weren't being met. So much of this has to do with my own boundaries. What I would learn through harsh pain and chronic illness has made me who I am and whom I thought I was becoming. I realize now I was already something AND someone; no need for "becoming" who I just couldn't see, YET.

With hardcore prejudice and my-own-worst-enemy tactics, I allowed my life to become secondary interest to myself and all others. Feeling and experiencing a deep sense of remorse for unfortunate events I allegedly caused lead my spirit on a downward spiral of unconventional shaming and punishment. This would be what I now consider a major dispelling of inner demons. Which we all have, by the way.

My primary punishment was to remain in a toxic relationship for a decade to provide clarification that I could commit to ANYTHING. It was all me, commiting to ownership of my mistakes and being allowed by an official judge to choose my own punishment, which in his words meant, "throwing me to the wolves" for social shaming and a string of assaults which some could easily be filed as attempted murder, brutality and premeditated offenses. Yet, I was taught that we don't call 911. I had ZERO support, guidance and protection. Go ahead and think the worst of it. Then, ten fold your own imagination for actual results of the destructive spell being conjured.

My second punishment, years of isolation and ambient abuse which have drawn me even closer to the conclusion that incarceration, confinement or imprisonment of any sort doesn't always result in rehabilitation. Not even for the folks who did this to me.

As time progressed it became more of a hostile environment which ultimately prevented any fruitful progress in reconstructive therapy to take form. I stayed anyway. Mostly for the kids.

WHY?!

My parents' divorce (AND DUMB LOGIC) devastated me and I didn't want my sons to ever experience that trauma. By age seven, I was already a statistic in the infamous system.

Prognosis: I have juvenile stress disorder, now known as PTSD no matter the age factor.

Every single move and decision made throughout my development stemmed from there. Believe me, many in my old community will tell you to this day they believed I was the spawn of the devil. What no one knew was that I had made myself vulnerable to other people's mind control. A victor of an authentic victimhood that could only exist as long as I didn't have any control of my own mind.

Live with that stigma for thirty-plus years and see how fast you recover.

*Through many medical issues there has been a developing neurotrophy of the brain and body.

*Illness plus multiple traumatic brain injuries equated irreversible damage.

Leap forward to present moment....

...Which parasites do we blame? The macro-beasts that feed off our gut-brain axis from the GI tract once our immunity is compromised, or maybe the parasites we've recently grown to refer to as Narcissistic Sociopaths?! Or neither?

By my own observation, they all attract and synchronize with each other. But that's an entirely different blog.

In many ways, it's been a nightmare, thus far.

As an update to all that, I am now the absentee parent who has been exiled by my teenage sons.

On top of excruciating physical pain and inflammation due to a whacked out nervous system including a hemotoma (caused by being punched in the head and then strangled until losing consciousness in front of my oldest son) I get a breakup call March 4th, 2009, on my sister's cell phone while in the atrium of a neurological intensive care unit.

Our mother had ruptured a cerebral aneurysm.

While in intensive care for nearly a month, housebound for three months, I was the only one of her children who could take care of her, provided that my significant other had PLENTY of helping hands, including two older teens and frequent visits from capable adults.

Yet, within two days, he was so distraught with the responsibility he became angered and told me we were done. As soon as I was gone, rumors started to manifest wings, his hidden affair became known and my entire life as I knew it, was painstakingly OVER.

Somehow, in a week of time, our lives changed for good. I was beat up, dumped, ran out of my own home, manipulated, robbed, used by many where I was leaving and the environment I was walking into, with a broken heart string and yet another brief pause from my own healing and development .

That, my brothers and sisters is only the beginning of quite the juicy, drama drenched work in progress this life of mine had become.

As I progress sharing, if you would like to know more about specific areas, it will determine future content. Simply leave a comment for me to respond to accordingly.

There is still so much left inside just knawing to get out. So it shall be.

Stay tuned.