The {Aha} Moments…

Unfinished business… it’s taken me a long time to regroup and decide in which direction to go next. My last blog entry was published well over a month ago, “The Truth Has No Versions” was posted on June 28th. That’s too long a pause in the progress I’ve been making, and I am determined to not allow myself to stay “stuck” like that again. I so sincerely appreciate each of you who read any, or all of “DearEasyDiaries” and wholeheartedly thank you for bearing with me over the interim of the past several weeks, and other instances when I am challenged to work through emotional blocks!

In my last post, I relayed a text I had just received which berated me for, allegedly, “trashing my ex, Al…as well as “trashing our family name.” It was that comment, judgement, and interaction to which I take exception and also stalled my writing for a spell. No longer! I will now, properly, address the subject here, as I don’t think I did it justice the first go-round. To the writer of that text, and to anyone else who may feel similarly, I respectfully disagree with your assessment, and I’ll tell you why.

*The text above, is also the same one I referenced in my last blog entry which, while still false, deserves to be completely addressed and corrected…*

My stepping up in this forum to finally tell and expose the truth, supported and documented by years and years of substantiation, both legal and otherwise, is more than just a little “uncomfortable” for many parties especially my ex, but also to those who were complicit in Al’s years of corruption, perjury, and the fraud he committed in multiple courts throughout multiple states! Understand now, and make no mistake… I DID NOT participate in any of Al’s misdeeds. I DID NOT abandon my children for several years while trying to circumvent the legal system and evade enforcement of our Marital Settlement Agreement. I NEVER perjured myself in multiple (or any) depositions and/or court cases, NOR did I exact fraud in two separate State’s family court systems, as well as California’s bankruptcy court, and I absolutely DID NOT file a false RICO lawsuit in New York’s U.S. District Court. ALL of those “acts” were committed repeatedly by Al, my ex; some of which actions occurred for over a decade…if not much longer. I have also NEVER been sued for embezzlement (New York – 1993, three months after our wedding); I have NEVER had a romantic partner commit suicide in a garage of one of my home’s, with a note of explanation naming me as the impetus (Mill Neck, New York -1980’s); and finally, I have NEVER committed IRS fraud, NOR have I ever engineered a decade-long trail of “sham” 1031 tax exchanges!

ALL of those actions belong to and rest squarely on Al. So, for all (yes, there are several) individuals who prefer to “prop” Al up at my expense, and challenge the truths that I’ve not only just outlined, but lived through…I pity you. At the end of the day, you are not very different than Al himself.

The statements above are NOT conjecture; they are FACTS, and so with that said, I will reiterate right now and maintain forever that, NO… it is NOT me who is responsible for the “trashing” of anyone’s name, certainly not Al’s; he did that all by himself! If anything, our children and I were damaged, both emotionally and financially for many years by Al’s control, corruption, unlawfulness and abuse. Al committed all of that wrongdoing on his own; maybe it was with a little, (or more) paid CPA intervention, Assistant, and Judicial “help,” but as such, it is AL’S to own, NOT MINE…PERIOD! I will not be made the scapegoat to protect Al, and his “Flying Monkeys,” for one moment longer. If I am guilty of anything, it is for NOT coming forward and speaking the truth much sooner, or more importantly for not getting therapy, much, much sooner, and relying solely on a lifetime of messed-up coping mechanisms to deal with an evil narcissist that operated waaaay out of my “pay-grade,” or experience. I was 100% “out over my skis!” Enough with the clichés… you get the idea. Something which I will take full responsibility for, and also accept as reality, is that it took me far too long to shed my fears, and step up!

Al has surrounded himself for decades with flying monkeys, and the attacks on my integrity are easy to exact if his or “your monkeys,” are of weak character, on the “payroll” or derive any type of gain in exchange or benefit from supporting and spreading Al’s narrative. My life has shown me that this type of activity and those false alliances happen often…more often than I care to remember. The very “habit” I grew up serving though, no longer serves me, not that it ever sincerely, did. Avoiding painful truths doesn’t work…I finally know that now! I never really understood the depth of my insecurities, nor the power that my deep need for acceptance held; it was just always there…a dark shadow that followed me, and which directed my steps for most of my years. So, to the author of that text and everyone else who never understood before, I apologize for hiding and protecting both my insecurities and an insidious truth for far too long. I also apologize to myself, and anyone else who has experienced such toxic attacks…for being misjudged, taken for granted, underestimated, abused, and for living in denial much longer than any of us should have. Now, it’s time to move forward, and continue speaking the truth…fearlessly! As I write this, it’s both somewhat ironic and inspiring to hear a network news reporter’s comment on the New York State Attorney General’s investigation of Governor Andrew Cuomo (another abusive, malignant narcissist)… proclaiming, “GAME OVER!”

Connection and security are, both, emotions that I have struggled to define and experience in a “healthy, normal (whatever that may be) manner throughout my life! The feelings and significance that those words represent to me, must be something akin to THE dependency that I imagine heroin or crack represents to an addict. Please do not misunderstand; I’m neither vouching for, nor judging that kind of dependency… just making a guess! I’m absolutely good to drink a bottle of Pinot Grigio, by myself, on a Tuesday, and have. I’ve got more than my fair share of other issues as well, but I’ve never experimented with drugs much ~ a puff or two of a joint on Christmas Eve in the driveway of our hilltop, Roblar home so I’d “fit in” with my younger sisters, or a line of cocaine at a party in LA once in my mid-twenties, again with one of my younger sisters, has been the extent of my drug use ~ so my analogy is, again, just an assumption. My addictions are different… things like people-pleasing; the constant hosting and entertaining of family and “friends;” needing to engage in and give back to my community, be it fundraising for school functions or donating my time and energy into every, and any, activity in which my family, ‘friends” and I used to participate; requiring comfort, beauty and order in my daily environment; feeling needed in other’s lives… those things are my drugs. They’re hugely different types of addictions, but can all be damaging and take a toll on your self-esteem, emotional and physical well-being, as well as the relationships you build (and lose) in life! At this stage of the game, admittedly very late, it’s only now occurred to me, that I never used to ask myself if… I TRULY liked someone, or if the person was a positive addition to my life? No matter who it was, a friend, a guy, work associate, or worse still, family member; my only concern was based in whether the other person liked me, and if not, what I could do to gain their affection? Is that just a “me thing?” I’d like to hope that I’m not alone in these thoughts, but please tell me…is it so? Or, maybe, is that just what I want to believe?

*Required Race Track attire - “kick-ass” hat and the gumption to rock it!*

A week or so ago, I spent a glorious Sunday afternoon at the Del Mar Race Track, and reveled in the ceremony of a sport that I’ve always adored. While I didn’t grow up immersed in the world of horse racing, I was raised in an environment where horses, horseshows, showmanship, and everything equine was a daily focus. Later on, when my older Sister married into a family that was heavily involved in thoroughbred horse racing, my knowledge was expanded, and later still when my own kids showed horses, and started to seriously compete in the horse and rodeo world…my vault of experience grew larger still. I never made any connection between the rodeo world, horse racing, or the horse shows from my childhood? Did any of those “specialties” represent any significant similarities to my past, apart from the obvious…the amazing, strikingly talented, four-legged athletes and the riders aboard them? I’m still not sure. What I DID, and still do recognize…even, adore about each of those different “arenas of competition” are the emotion, reverence, celebration and respect that each sport stirs. Now THOSE are feelings that seemed deeply attached to a page from my past. Anyways, almost two weeks ago when I left the track, after a gorgeous day, a great gathering, spectacular viewing position from a Turf Club table overlooking the finish line and even a trip to the paddock followed by a walk through the tunnel to see the action up close and personal, I just didn’t feel the joy and satisfaction I usually experienced and still expected? Instead, there was an emptiness and even a thin veil of melancholy that came over me? That uneasiness remained, through the front door when my date delivered me home, and well into what became a pretty long evening. It was not until the next day when I realized WHY I might have still felt that uncomfortable, gnawing sensation that I hadn’t been able to shake for almost 24 hours.

Those “come to Jesus” moments…you know the ones that hit you like a pile driver sinking into the foundation of a construction site, have been occurring in my life far more frequently over the past few years than they ever did previously. The epiphanies are enlightening, but frustrating too. Why does it take me so long to arrive at a conclusion, which could have saved such a great deal of time and most often grief, had I discovered it sooner? I guess it’s true that we continue to experience the same lesson, repeatedly, until it finally teaches us what we need to know? That I’m more than just a little hard-headed, with a stubborn Irish streak pulsing through my veins never really facilitated the necessity of accepting ugly yet inevitable facts over my lifetime, but then I do have all those years of therapy following the divorce which might have ended up being really helpful, and writing “DearEasyDiaries” is going FAR deeper than a shallow scrape across the surface of issues, but is instead burrowing into my very core? That said, let me give some background to this latest discovery.

Several years back, I happened to date a nice man, so when he invited me to be his guest at the races a few weeks ago, I was happy to oblige. Even though our relationship ended, at my initiation but unpleasantly, it was still a tough call to make and a decision that brought more pain than I originally anticipated. I realized after almost a year and a half of dating, that the words that left his lips, or were professed in his many adoring love letters, over months and months, did not match the actions I was watching occur. The entire scenario felt more than just a little “déjà vu-ish” for my comfort. There were too many parallels that I should have drawn from that relationship to my failed marriage, which in and of itself, should have raised huge red flags, if not flashing, neon signs? I doubt that he and I would have ever gotten as far as marriage, but he did speak of the prospect, particularly when other men displayed an interest in me…hmmmm? (More introspection needed about that, for sure!) During that same time frame, my son was entering his junior year of high school, and while I had already been a constant, full-time, single mom for almost five years, I knew that that chapter of our lives came with an expiration date. My son would graduate, and as planned, would go off to college. It became my mission to forbid the troubling challenges I had with romantic relationships, to overshadow or require more attention than my top priority…being a Mom. That said, I ended the relationship. Maybe back at the time, or even a few mere weeks ago, I didn’t give enough attention to the SOLID reasoning I used to make that decision. My initial instinct to “call it a day” was decided after recognizing that the words he spoke, versus his actions, were completely out of whack. The conclusion was made with much self-reflection and at the urging of, Steve, my then very-trusted shrink. When “GentlemanX” (GX, from now on) and I first started dating, he was utterly convincing when he proclaimed that, “he had never known anyone like me, and wanted to be the person I could grow old alongside and rely on, as he saw how many people I took care of, and I deserved someone who would do that for me.” Fourteen months later, GX’s life was growing exponentially larger, with many serious and complicated variables involved; much more than I was ever told, or made aware of initially. Meanwhile, my role in all of it…his life, his priorities, his time, as well as his heart, seemed to be shrinking? I had already endured enough pain, deception, heartache and betrayal for three lifetimes; I didn’t need or want more of the same. I don’t think I saw the analogy I should have made between those two relationships; the first being with my now, infamous, ex, Al, and the second with GX. While there certainly are, aspects to each of their personalities and the particular situational differences that were uniquely their own, the bottom line remains the same…in each instance, their words did not match their actions! By the grace of God, I got the message much quicker with GX? Or did I?

Even though we didn’t see each other for many years, and we each dated others in the interim, we reconnected a few years back, and I credit GX with doing me a great and gracious kindness once. Two years ago, we had an occasion to see one another and enjoyed a lovely and very civilized lunch at one of my favorite Malibu restaurants. GX had become involved with a start-up business abroad, as well as a new love interest, and similarly (minus the romantic dalliance) I too had just started a business and was launching an exciting new opportunity and future. We were each happy and engaged in our own lives.

I’m remembering now my Grandfather’s phrase regarding my love for, and habit of, rereading “Gone With The Wind” during my teenage years. Pa used to ask me, “why do you keep rereading that damn book; it takes him 80 pages to cross a crick?” Now again, as in my favorite novel, it’s taking me a while to get to, much less accept, the “meat” of the matter, but here it is…or at least part of it. When GX asked me to accompany him to the races recently, it was following some slight flirting, or “pinging” (as Steve would have termed it) that occurred over several weeks, and I wasn’t clear as to what the invitation represented in its entirety. Obviously, we were still able to connect and converse on some kind of emotional level, and we had been able to restore a friendship, despite a pretty bad ending; was that the extent of it? More importantly, why was there still some part of me that was willing to “revisit” that troubling chapter of my past? Here I am almost two weeks later, confirming that I STILL had another lesson to learn. Good grief, once again I’m left asking myself, “what on earth is wrong with me? The answer is either nothing, everything, or somewhere in between, but for the time being, it will suffice to say, I almost allowed myself to slip back into the “old-Missy mindset,” worrying, almost obsessing, more about someone liking me, before ever stopping to ask myself… if I liked them and was their presence a positive addition to my life? Yikes, that was a close call. However, once I paused and explored the nagging questions that remained from our day at the track… reality hit me, and just like that…I was done ~ time to move on!

That well-worn expression, old habits die hard, is apparently very, very true. Self-admittedly and unabashedly, I am a collector. Not a hoarder per se, but absolutely a fancier of things that capture my attention. Pictures, memories, quotes and meaningful expressions are all items that fall in that category; so too, I guess are my old, tired ways of thinking and familiar habits. I know NOW that I let myself slip back into a pattern of destructive thinking that clouded my recent, yet slightly more aware sense of self, as well as the protection that my evolution has afforded me. I allowed my need for the comfort of familiarity, and desire to be liked, get the better of my good judgement and gut instinct. That was a “shame on me” moment, that will stick in my memory for a while as an example of how fast I “could” regress if I’m not seriously diligent? Hopefully, though, it will also become another event from which I learn and grow?

A little look back sometimes, to gauge our progress and tap into the part of ourselves that inspires us to keep going, as well as to identify the bad habits or traits that are limiting and need to be removed in order to move forward, is helpful, and I make a conscious effort to reassess fairly often. With that in mind, after my recent “racetrack revelation” I went back in my journals and files to find these entries that I wrote in the midst of my divorce and its aftermath…both which predate my blog’s start by an entire decade. It’s stunning to me that I can still feel the fragility that consumed my life at the time, but the good news is that there are so many more adjectives today that I would choose to describe myself, and “fragile” no longer tops the list. Please hang in with me, while I share a few of my stops and starts in the progress of my well-being?

It occurred sometime during the summer of 2008, when James (my first therapist, and someone who eventually became more like a therapist/friend combo) relayed to me that he was closing his private practice to return to the military and serve as a psychologist for the troops in Afghanistan. I was devastated and totally unsure of how to navigate the next chapter of what had become my very scary and, new life.....particularly since Al and I were right in the midst of an extremely hostile divorce proceeding and jurisdictional battle being waged in the State of Georgia’s Court of Appeals.

Both of these “shots” detail a matter of public record and could easily be found by “googling,” gaappeals.us! The first photo shows the ruling on my behalf in July of 2008; the second reveals Al’s loss in the same court just a few weeks later, in August. Those rulings were responsible for Al’s desperation to schedule Mediation seeking a Settlement, rather than going to court regarding the jurisdictional issue of our divorce proceeding. He was sure to lose on that point.

April 2009

Six-plus months later, with an MSA (Marital Settlement Agreement) in hand and legally recorded, I was still facing Al’s petulant refusal to comply with the provisions of the document, and with the kids and my THIRD move in the same period of time recently executed, I was feeling weak and beaten. My dogged, obstinate determination to relentlessly keep fighting for my children’s and my future had finally hit a wall. I felt belittled, defeated, and needed professional support. That’s where Steve came in; he was just the second psychologist that I had seen over the course of my 19 years with Al, and like James had done before, Steve earned my trust, and I was able to pry more deeply into my psyche and past to establish a basis of confidence, which didn’t come easily those days. Albeit slowly, I continued exploring the deeply hidden secrets and experiences I kept buried inside. Once again, like his predecessor, James, who had been such a stabilizing force for 14 years, and who I credited with keeping me, at least somewhat functionally sane, during the year from hell that was our separation (9/3/07 thru 9/5/08) preceding our official divorce date of 9/8/08 (or “Freedom Day, as my daughter now refers to it), Steve didn’t use a bunch of “mumbo/jumbo” buzz words, he didn’t trivialize what I disclosed, and rather than interpret my feelings in some trite way, he actually, sincerely listened, and helped guide me to arrive at my own conclusions. It had only been, maybe, four months, but already Steve had a legitimate grasp of my life experiences, the devastation I felt, and my ever-evolving state of being.

Between the time when James closed his practice in the early Fall of 2008, and the new year’s start of 2009, when Steve arrived on the scene to take James’ place, there was a brief interim therapist. “Interim guy” had advised me to try and involve Al in the kid’s counseling, even though I was skeptical. Al’s history of disdain for therapy was well known by both the kids and me, and thus the suggestion wasn’t terribly motivating. It didn’t help much that “Interim guy” made that suggestion, as he simultaneously divulged his impending two-year sabbatical, and thus his inability to continue working with us. Boom…bye bye to two months of wasted therapy, especially considering my kid’s pronounced and distinct reluctance to participate in the process at all. “Interim guy’s” disclosure only served to heighten my frustration, which was already galloping out of sight faster and faster with each minute that passed. I was pretty sure it would be next to impossible to replicate the genuine interest and support that I had felt with James, but I also knew the severity of the struggle that each of my kids and I were feeling. We all needed an outlet and means of venting. So too, I desperately needed some guidance following the toll that my recent divorce, the abrupt Settlement Agreement, our immediate and subsequent return back to California, Emily’s Senior Year of high school being spent in a brand new school with college admissions creating an even greater stress than the move alone, my son’s return to a traditional school environment versus the homeschool alternative we had engineered in Georgia for the past two years, and last but certainly not least, Al’s continuing onslaught of “crazy making.” The pressure and stress had become debilitating!

The “interim guy” got one thing right, though when he referred us on to Steve, another Santa Barbara psychologist, and one who was confirmed by several revered professionals as a credible resource. Originally, Steve met with all of us (even Al), then he met with us individually, and finally, with me, again....by myself. It was then, Steve explained that he didn’t feel like he was a good fit to work with either of the kids; my son was still very young, more than a bit emotionally shut down and actively against participating in therapy, and my daughter was consumed (rightfully so) with anger and distrust. Steve felt she would benefit far more from working with a woman, and he didn’t think at the time that my son would be helped by forcing something he wasn’t ready to participate in or accept. Steve was also very clear about his unwillingness to work with Al. After just a couple meetings, Steve admitted to me that he had seen the darkness, damage and manipulation, that Al was capable of exacting, and Steve couldn’t, or wouldn’t see Al again. Steve was just the third person in my nineteen-year history with Al, who was able to see through him so quickly and clearly.

After that insight and declaration, my comfort level increased and the prospect of working with Steve seemed more hopeful. Within several months of talking with him weekly, I felt a basis of understanding and trust that hadn’t occurred before with anyone other than James. It had always been difficult to dig down, explore and share my deepest thoughts, just as it was no easier to peel back the layers and layers of protective insulation that I had shrouded myself within, but little by little I was able to reach down, comprehend, and start to give my feelings a voice. I shared with Steve the dynamics of my upbringing, the fierce loyalty that my Mother had always fostered between my sisters and herself, even or especially to the exclusion of others, including our extended family. The equation was not an easy one. At first, during my year-long separation, the sudden MSA, resultant divorce and all that came next, my Mom and sisters had been hugely supportive of the kids and me, but it didn’t last very long. Seven to eight months later, as soon as I hesitated to accept, or worse yet ignored their (my two younger sisters and one brother-in-law) very outspoken opinions on each and every aspect of my life, my children’s lives, or any other subject that came up, I was fast to be rebuked and dismissed; reminded of just how good they had all been to me and how dare I question them. Within several months, I felt as small, judged, and rejected as I had throughout my upbringing.

Begging your indulgence…another quick trip, this time much further back in my life, in order to shine a light into a little bit of what had originally made me, me! I never truly dug into the subject of my family of origin with James. The focus when I spoke to and worked with him centered around Al, and how I could best cope with trying to hold on to, and hopefully improve a very dysfunctional marriage and relationship, as well as my culpability in its evolution, and my determination to keep our family together.

Steve encouraged me to probe deeper; to go beyond Al, and return to who I was before Al existed. In my family of origin, I had always been labeled “the nice one.” I wasn’t the smartest, prettiest, most athletic, or most talented, but I was always affable and eager to please, so I wore the title assigned me, much like a decanter of booze wears its “tag” identifying the contents within.....be it, Gin, Bourbon, or Vodka! It was almost as though, there was nothing else to see, or to know about me, or my family of origin other than we had a great deal of alcoholism, strife and control issues in our DNA. Later on, after college, and following a year on my own spent on the East Coast, all the way across the country from home, where I knew not one single soul, I was compelled to discover an additional or different part of me. A me that was more layered and interesting than the one I knew before…the me which was accustomed to carrying the “nice” label, I had been assigned as a child. I was finally ready to contemplate more. After that enlightening year, and a new sense of something resembling self-esteem and independence, I felt newly emboldened and armed with a sense of bravery that I hadn’t known before. A few years later, after getting my real estate license and enjoying some success, and later still, as a result of marrying a much older, seemingly highly successful, and non-alcoholic man (Al,) I managed to escape the labels and small, suffocating world, I had been raised in. I even cultivated an opportunity to define myself in other ways. Once married and a full-time Mom, but through consistent and vigorous community involvement and volunteer work, my sense of self evolved further, and I felt proud to be that person, while still putting my own kids and home first. The fact that Al had been so professionally accomplished and “of means,” upon introduction, had also given me new credibility within my family of origin, even if it was only on the most superficial level and merely equated to what I could do for them. Seventeen years into my marriage, having multiple homes, in highly desirable locations, with every amenity possible including a private jet, I was afforded an even greater measure of respect and favor within my family of origin. My Mom was more on the inside, and knew a good bit of the challenges and difficulties that existed in my private life with Al; she was able to see beyond the glossy picture that our public life revealed. Most of the other people in my life didn’t really understand the strings, history, nuances, or pressures that were a part of my union with Al. Our marriage had provided me a really useful tool, almost a shield, protecting me from the shaming and belittling I grew up with from my sisters. For many years, Al was my way, and a necessary “vehicle,” to maintain an “arms-length” distance between my younger sisters and myself. Our, seven years of bi-coastal living only reinforced those unspoken boundaries, and fortified the strength that the reality of physical distance provided. What I had not factored into my union with Al, initially, or come to terms with before the separation and resulting divorce occurred, was that my union with and marriage to Al, hadn’t really been a shield after all. Our marriage was in actuality, a masked replacement of my upbringing…..minus the alcohol addiction. The initial “picture” may have looked slightly different, and more opulent, but the underlying reality was incredibly similar, and differed ONLY, in that Al was (it bears repeating) not an alcoholic. However in many ways, it was just as, if not far more toxic than my upbringing. The months following our separation which led to that moment of discovery, had confirmed in the harshest way possible, that my revelation was indeed, true! James scratched the surface of emerging enlightenment over the years, but my work with Steve that first year following the divorce, was like using a bulldozer, instead of a chisel to excavate my path to the truth!

Back we go… (post-divorce)

March 2010

As I sat on the aging sofa, a patchwork of upholstery that had clearly seen better days, and listened to the stream of words spilling from Steve’s mouth, I couldn’t seem to stay completely focused. Every time, a painful subject came up, I could feel the familiar tears welling in my eyes, I felt my throat closing a bit, and a wave of heat rise up through my body, until I knew that my face was as red and splotchy as the “patched up” couch on which I was sitting. Rather than look straight ahead, face the “enemy,” so to speak, (which was the ongoing grief I couldn’t seem to shake), risk being “betrayed” by my body’s own physical reactions, or acknowledge how truly vulnerable I felt, I still reverted back to behaviors of denial and avoidance. My entire being went into some kind of internal auto-pilot mode that would just “kick in,” whenever I felt cornered.

Trying to avoid Steve’s probing gaze, I looked down and couldn’t help but fix my attention on, and fiddle with, the two Hermès, horse head bracelets, that my Mom had given me a couple years past, a symbol of recognition and acceptance that I had been desperately seeking since childhood. Thoughts of times past, and memories of moments that became years, held together only by a tangled web of fine threads that wove back and forth telling my story in the bits and pieces I chose to see, was “the reel” stuck in “repeat-mode” on a loop in my mind. Not a helpful “tool” nor the effective coping strategy, which I needed back then to help me comprehend and deal with the circumstances that were my new reality. Those frequent and troubling images constantly circling around and through my psyche were like an invisible force that directed my steps, and had also proven to be far more problematic than helpful! The two bracelets and their gifting, as well as the emotional baggage they represented, were a complicated issue. While I treasured the sentiment symbolized in the passing of them from my Mother’s hands to mine, the bracelets also served as a reminder of the hypocrisy, and painful relationships, I was attempting to dissect and come to terms with through the process of therapy…no matter how daunting the task, or whether success felt even remotely attainable at the time.

The problem with looking back though, is that there then becomes a part of your life that you can’t “un-see!” That realization has been one of my ultimate “wins” and also the driving force behind DearEasyDiaries’ birth. I was finally ready to wrestle and take down the shadows of my past.

There I was sitting painstakingly still in that very underwhelming office off of State Street, avoiding Steve’s gaze, looking down at the Hermès bracelets and shabby, patched sofa, and I felt overcome by a new sense of freedom and clarity which I had never known before. Steve was explaining an analogy about the direction my life had taken. He said, “Missy, it’s a pretty simple principle; for the majority of your life, you’ve been like a lobster in a boiling pot of water, smothering and trying desperately to claw your way out.” He went on, saying “if you probe further and try to imagine yourself as the only lobster in that pot of water who keeps attempting to climb out, leaving the dysfunction of your family of origin behind, and are eventually successful, then you will have “drawn a line in the sand” and you won’t be welcomed back. There is no going back! It’s time to move forward….. accepting, embracing and continuing to move past that toxic history and environment which enveloped you for so many years. And, it’s about damn time… good for you!” “You tried to climb out repeatedly, but the other lobsters in that deep and steaming vat of hot water, first your family, and then Al…. they all kept trying to pull you back into the boiling, seething overflow of mess and dependency. In their narrative you were never suppose to climb out, never escape their world, and certainly NEVER reject them, nor the world in which you could be controlled!” It was like a switch had been flipped, and all of a sudden, my eyes were opened to a new perspective. Steve, hesitated, but continued on, telling me that the days ahead promised to be far more challenging than the ones I left behind; because now, if I was aware and prepared to fully own my reality, I would be faced with having to resist the conditioning and illusion of false comfort that I had grown so accustomed to living amongst, and cultivate a whole new mindset, to say the least about what might be ahead? That kind of boundary setting would be not just required, but mandatory if I had any hope or expectation, of sustaining the process of emotional growth!

(This next section was to be my original proposed “starting point” to DearEasyDiaries; it ended up getting somewhat delayed, hijacked and altered for a few months, as I vacillated about exactly where to start, and it wasn’t until April of 2020, that I was prepared to make the “leap!” But, please, stay with me while I make the transition?)

February, 2020

Now, almost eleven years later, there are still many moments in the day when I feel like my toes are sinking back towards the hot water of “the lobster pot,” but those moments are fewer today than a year or two ago, and with any luck, will be even fewer in the next several years. I don’t see Steve any longer, but I’ll always be grateful for the way he opened my eyes, and mind. My thoughts and feelings can sometimes ramble and be hard to “pin down,” but in the last year or so, I’ve been overwhelmed with the compulsion to write. The mere process of expressing my haunting thoughts of the past “out loud,” rather than keeping them bottled up, is hugely cathartic. While I’m still reluctant to expose all the intricacies of the life I’ve led, and am adamantly opposed to taking on the role of a victim, I feel almost obligated to share the discoveries I’ve made and the strength I’ve developed along the way. I’m very, painfully, aware that marriages fail, spouses cheat and lots of people have troubled, even frightening, lives! Mine is not a unique story, but in accepting it, and sharing it, I’m forced to move beyond my wounds, and create a new reality for my future. I have also found new motivation and a stunningly invigorating sense of force and energy with which to address that future direction. Too often, I’ve felt shamed about disclosing the details of my experiences, and I understand it makes others feel uncomfortable to hear truths that provoke unwanted memories or probe the handling of their own circumstances, but those same truths are what have shaped me, and what are guiding the new, honest, and real life I am working to create and understand! The challenge I have felt to regroup, do a complete 180 degree pivot, and leave behind the unfathomable manipulation, pain and treachery that occupied the majority of my first 50 years, in order to make others feel secure, and unthreatened by me and my experiences, has been stifling! Hiding, ignoring and pretending half a century worth of damage did not occur, doesn’t make it go away; it does NOT refute or negate its existence, and certainly doesn’t prompt or effectuate change that might result in a brighter future. Owning my participation in, and past acceptance of events, is not something I’ve shied away from, nor have I shrunk from admitting my faults and misdeeds, of which there are several. When the truth is overtly, and repeatedly ignored, and even denied, in favor of “rewriting” a script which perpetuates an alternative narrative to the pattern of cruelty that has been perpetrated, at my loved ones, and my expense, then I’m left with only one path to take…the journey of honesty and exposing what is ABSOLUTELY REAL, whether it’s uncomfortable or not! I will not shrink again, but rather will step up and shine a light upon the truth, and expose the crazy-making efforts that are meant to conceal a frightening darkness that has been an enormous part of my past, and continues to live on within so many people that shared that past!

Once the quilt of denial, manipulation, and the resulting fear was lifted, it’s become far easier to see a trend in the type of person who has shared my past, versus the people who choose to be a part of my present, and future life. When I pause, and am not willing to ignore the unpleasant, and oftentimes painful, realities, or am not always the first to initiate gatherings, lunches, dinners, parties, trips, and/or if, I am not constantly “giving to” and “enabling” people that I had always assumed were, and treated as an important and meaningful part of my life, I’ve found my “circle” has shrunk dramatically. It’s okay though...I’m getting to know myself; I’m learning to recognize my weaknesses, my strengths, and decide which of those I choose to abandon or to grow......the vices or the virtues? I’m also learning to accept that I still possess all those qualities, even if I no longer incorporate them into my life. While I may be moving slowly, the movement is forward, and my efforts are spent creating a new and deeper definition of who I am. I look forward to a day when the people I attract to my life are as eager to support me, as I’ve always tried to be and do, for the people of my past. For now, I’ll just be content to keep learning who is real, and who is not!

About two months later…

My first blog entry was published on April 8, 2020, and was the result of months of contemplation. As described just above, I couldn’t seem to decisively land on a specific launching place. Where to start in the enormous amount of material I was wading through was an intimidating and lengthy process. I vacillated between a vast enormity of topics that fill “files” in my mind, boxes lining a wall in my garage, as well as the stunning amount of material stored in the memory of my computer, but it was finally time to hit the “start button,” and so I jumped.

August 2021

Today, over a year and a half later, I look back at my notes that were meant to be the origin of my blog history, and I’m stunned at how I’ve arrived neatly back at that moment in time today!

And, once again onward…

“Stand for Something…or You’ll Fall for Anything…”

I Identify As “Un-Masked!”