If I want to get to heaven

I have to walk away from hell
JUNE 14, 2012 8:24PM

Why The Cowboy went away

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As I said near the end of my post As sick as our secrets “I have to trust that more answers will appear as I'm ready to apply solutions.” Always the lesson appears when the student is ready. There have been a strange series of events that led me back to the time my last husband left. I spent years trying to understand what triggered strange behavior from a man I knew so well. My mind kept returning to Libby’s post Surviving the Unrecovered Borderline Parent and the comments I read there. It’s that thought at the back of your mind but you can’t put your finger on it. The other night I remembered the post where I was still struggling with why he left. A year after we had that meeting he came to visit me and he still didn’t know, he started to cry when holding me and said he was sorry he ruined all our lives. I was too afraid to let him back into mine, I had shut down. I may have posted what I wrote about that meeting but can’t look back right now, I have to get through this. As I wrote about the meeting we had in my post The princess and the pea, I said we were too alike, I had no idea how true that was when long ago I wrote those words. The Cowboy was like me.


When he left I struggled to understand, was it was the stress of moving from the farm to the LA area? It wasn’t just crowding that was hard, he was dyslexic which was overlooked in school when he earned them all the trophies. Zipping by freeway signs he couldn't read was a nightmare, he would get lost looking for job sites, feel helpless and frustrated. Or our disagreement over a motorcycle and the only time I ever said no because I was terrified he would be killed. Or perhaps a mid-life crisis, or just missed his brother too much. Nothing about what led up to it, the way he left or why made any sense, after 11 years he just stopped being him.


While my dad was dying, and in the weeks after, everyone looked to me for decisions and answers. I struggled and slipped again into old behaviors and instead of doing what was best for me I made mistakes. I missed The Cowboy, I wanted to call and lean on him. Where do you get your needs met when everyone needs you? Even the strongest of us need someone to lean on, my youngest was there but strong as she is, she's still my child. The Cowboy heard me even when I said nothing, he knew what I needed and what I didn't, if I said just his name he'd know I wasn't okay. He was a safe place to land and rest, always on my side, always my support. I miss his soothing words telling me I would be fine and everything would be alright. With him I felt safe all the time, he was available and he was strong, he promised little and gave all he could. Every day I wanted to call and lean on him again.


With recent chaos my mind returned to him to borrow courage from who he chose to be. I never had heroes growing up, didn't look up to many but I admired him. I think about the horrors of his childhood and how he shaped himself. His mother who adored her children died when he was 3. His truck driver father who couldn't read let them go to her relatives based on promises that would never be kept by people who were shallow and selfish. Being separated from his older brother and sisters as he was shuffled from home to home. Finally adopted by an old aunt and uncle who hated his father but "took him in because they were good Christians," his replacement mother's words, not mine. I remember his passionless description of some of the things that were done to him for being a bad little boy no one else wanted, one who kept crying even though they made so many sacrifices to take him in. The sainted mother was the driving force and her husband's role was to agree and behave. Her saintly martyrdom oozed out of their mouths like sacred  treasures. Except if he interrupted her, then her halo slipped and she smacked him in the back of the head and calmly said "shut up Howard, I'm talking."


I remember the first time I met them how they put him down for running off to join the rodeo (ruining their dreams of a son in the Olympics) down to the most trivial things, they saw it as what he did to embarrass or disappoint such wonderful parents. Everything was about how they felt and how they looked. They took credit for all his swimming trophies and how they’d sacrificed to push him  into being a champion. They were not in the least bit embarrassed to send us to sleep in the unfinished basement where his childhood bed still lay, as well as a spare bed in another area for me. Not embarrassed that the rooms that once belonged to their own children were left empty the years he lived with them. I think of how they bragged about themselves and sought pity for their struggles or illnesses and then complained of the burden of his and how good they were to be so long suffering. Half lies and illusions were in all their words. Of course he was forced to agree. That's how hostages stay alive, they agree with their  captors. I couldn't wait to escape. 


I think about the years he went to school two hours early each day to swim. In his sophomore year he was state champion, beating every high school swimmer in the state of Utah in the breaststroke. As his coach trained him in hopes of sending him to the Olympics, he swam dreaming of escape. I think of him dragged to church every Sunday by people too selfish to love anyone, and too ignorant to know they weren’t superior beings.  I think of a small boy lying alone in a dark basement crying silently for his mom and siblings. I think of his shame as he told me of his childhood, as if he was the one who should be ashamed simply because they shamed him. I think of his embarrassment as he apologized for them and told me that was why he’d arranged to stay only one night. I think of the fine man that little boy raised himself to be and how he sheltered others. I think of how his inner strength sustained him as he waited to escape.


At 16 he ran away from those people, he left them with their dreams of being parents of an Olympiad. He left them to their self-absorbed adult children and went into the mountains to ride fencelines for ranchers and live alone in line cabins while still a child. He learned to ride broncs and then bulls. He was far too tall to be a bull rider, so he did it anyway and won purses and a buckle he still wore. On another ride he took his wrap, they pulled the flank strap on the bull, and the gate on the chute jammed. The bull exploded inside the chute and his hand was trapped in his wrap. A few weeks later he left the hospital and walked away from Rodeo. When we were settled in our new home he unpacked a large box he brought from his old room, it was filled with trophies. He casually threw them all out as I protested, and told me that was then. He was a champion before he ever learned to swim or ride, he knew who he was without any trophies and never felt a need to tell anyone. He was content knowing who he was. Or so I thought.


Don't think him brutish or a redneck because he was rugged, when he broke the completely wild filly we bought he was gentle and consistent. On his ex-wife's ranch he did wildlife rehab including raptor rehab for Duschenes County. A few years into marriage I asked him if that's what he did with me and he just smiled. Lest you think I'm too sweet, when his parents came to visit I always had the urge to get a bat and beat the living shit out of people in their 80's, and possibly kick them a bit too. We are all more complex than a few words can describe.


One day I found an old drawing book filled with beautifully detailed pencil drawings, he said he used to draw because he liked it. He learned trades on the move because he couldn't read well, body work, mechanics, every area of construction. He taught himself to airbrush artwork for motorcycles to make extra money, and somewhere in Wisconsin there’s a big white and blue bike with a dark skinned brunette painted on the back fender. I laughed when he told on his trip out to visit me, I didn't mind, he kept me the way he could. He didn't blow up, he didn't complain, he didn't turn into the abuser. He did everything he could do to get something done, if he couldn't do it, he moved on. He could build anything you asked for, draw remodeling plans from words and hand gestures of customers and fix anything that broke.


The day before he left me we fought, raised voices for a couple of hours. I know how awful he felt being furious and hurting my feelings, I felt awful too. Sometimes our standards for ourselves are too high, sometimes we don’t get the tools we need in childhood and don’t know how to fix ourselves. I wish to God he'd been able to fix himself. But even the strongest men fall, or break, and it doesn't make them any less. I have to remember that even the strongest women fall, or break. It doesn't make me any less.


Now after recent lessons and posts, I look back at what happened when he took me to live near my parents. I remember the first time he saw the illusion slip and my father had one of his tantrums, and my mother's superiority veiled in martyrdom became clear. Soon they began to treat him the way they treated me, the rule is if you love me and want to be loved, you’ll keep our little secrets. I was shutting down again, soon our needs and feelings didn’t matter, it was all about pleasing them and he began to meet their needs too. We lived over a month with them in their gorgeous home, he couldn’t wait to escape.


One day he put his arms around me and said he never told me but he hadn’t believed me about my parents, they seemed so wonderful when they’d visited us. He was unable to see that their Religion was Financial Success, and even when loans made are repaid, it was never repayment they sought. Though you can't repay the forgiveness the Saint grants you the price you pay by being the inferior is the same. Our needs and thoughts were either foolish, wrong, poor judgment, or something less than, or, never even considered. Anything they did for us was because they were magnanimous and Successful, anything they needed from us was their due for being wonderful to those beneath them.


There is never sharing from a superior being, only charity to the less fortunate. The vehicle is different, the driver is the same. I see now the triggers he and I both shared, I hope I never ignore those alarm bells again.


Again he was living the lie and he became a hostage too. Though he tried to please and impress them he was poor Doris' husband who was a nice guy, but not sucessful or literate, they were (condescendingly) kind to him. I don't think he connected it to what happened to him in childhood, or the unhealed wounds that caused him to shut down. I wrote this in my Secrets post “Some instinct told me that keeping the secret was staying in the cage.” He left because he couldn’t go back in the cage and pretend he liked it, instinct caused him to revert to an old behavior to survive. I get it, I've told my kids if I disappear I'm dead, I'll fight to the death rather than be held hostage.  Being trapped is too like my childhood and bad marriages, I would truly rather be dead.


Though I haven’t been a victim of rape, I shudder every time I see a show where a victim recounts a rapist forcing her to say he’s wonderful and she likes what he’s doing to her. It is the same with these parents regardless of what disorder they have or which one has it, every boundary must be stripped away, you're needs are of no interest to them. You are just an accessory for their gratification and image  control, not only must you submit, you must say that it makes you happy and you're grateful. If not, the problem is you, you're inferior or defective, and ungrateful. If you don't give them what they want, they will explode or you will be  shut out. Little do we know that shut out is a blessing, but it never lasts, they will relentlessly return and be shameless, no matter the persona they wear, they can't see their real selves. My parents and his only had different lives, the behaviors were much the same.


I think he remains shut down, we have talked over the years but not in a few. Though he lives near them, when I called my former sister in law last year, she says they still hardly see him and he has been engaged to the same woman for about 6-7 years. I'm sad for him each time I hear that. It broke my heart to learn from my step-daughter he stopped contacting her and his grandchildren. My youngest still has a relationship with him and said he's different now. Can we ever break free from our childhood chains? 


This is what happens when you can’t live the lie anymore, eventually you break. Back then I didn't know any of these things, and though I learned about myself in the past few years, I never thought about his childhood and the triggers he responded to until now. I'm grateful to understand what happened and finally be at peace with it. I was angry and hurt that he left but never felt bitter knowing he did all he could to protect me from pain,  just like always. I can't blame him for running, he never learned any other way.


With all my heart I hope he heals, I pray that answers and solutions be sent his way, and that he opens himself to them. All I can do for him is pray. My only job is still to fix and change me.  

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Beautifully said, my dear.
I feel for you both. My family is not all that unlike your own.
Maybe they're misinterpreting and he's actually moving away from them because he's moving on. The only way I've been able to do it is to move away from my family. He sounds like a great guy.
L'Heure: This is just beautiful, o my how you've evolved, hmm? And he was born at a very bad time to be dyslexic. Compassion, yours, is such a gift, esp given what you used to question to no avail and now you have such profound anwers sp? and THAT is love, lovely love.
Wow, you have really been through this...I am at the beginning of this figuring out Why thing...I wonder how many years it will take. Thankjs for letting me know that it can be done.
We all have the problem of knowing and not knowing the people who come into and leave our lives. Sometimes we just have to take and give what we can and let our lives unfold.
Poignant and beautiful telling of part of your journey and that of one loved by you.

This was a long one, my apologies. I couldn't figure out how to split it up, but it was a long time coming.

Poor Woman, thanks. There are a lot of us out there, maybe together we can find ways to heal. My PTSD seems a little better too. Love and peace to you.

Phyllis, I was unclear (sigh) it's his real brother and they were quite close after re-connecting as adults. His sibling/cousins were obnoxious.

I do know what you mean, my family really took me down to despair after I'd gone very far. He is a good man, I hope he finds peace and love.

wendyo, you remember how I was, hahaha, I have come far. He was so ashamed he never said anything, I didn't figure it out until he thought the car had 3 gallons but it read E and we ran out of gas on the freeway.

Being loving makes us have compassion for others. Thank you for a lovely compliment. May we all be more loving.

Pandora, I've worried at this like a dog with a bone. Started looking closely at my family a few years ago when no medications helped and I was free falling into misery again.

I was a certified professional medical coder and tried to figure out if my dad had narcissistic personality disorder or was a sociopath. Because he didn't have guilt, wasn't able to empathize and had no regard for his personal safety or that of others I'd lean toward sociopath. You can't get those people to seek treatment voluntarily because they're not the ones suffering. Not sure where mom falls, BPD or NPD. They both had real issues.

I read a lot to try to figure out DSM diagnoses but finally realized it was more important to work on the effects my childhood had on me. I look for the similarities and then if that person (or book) is doing something that works I try that. I wish I could afford therapy but this is working. Slow but steady, we just have to keep after it.

jmac, there's nothing we can do to control anyone else. I can love or like them if I can, or leave them if I can't. I can only change myself, one thing I can no longer do is stay the same. It ain't easy having it unfold, but it's interesting!

Sky, writing this part has been a release, a gift. Thank you.
I don't think you have to fix yourself. In my book you are just perfect!! Like me! Love you forever.
zanelle, I'm okay, and inside I'm perfect, but can use a little help. Anyway perfect is overated, perfect for each other is just right. I finally figured this one out. I will love him in some way forever and now I can let it rest. I love you forever too. Thank you always.
[r] Bleue, WOW! You really did have an epiphany. A lot of homework of serious feelings went ahead of this. I celebrate the serious empathy flowing from you to your beloved Cowboy. It sounds like he from his background (talk about a challenge, it reminds me of my own dad’s) too, maybe had to contend with a borderline family system of conditional love. Emphasis on a child being convenient and predictable, and outer- not inner- focused under the threat of the entire ball of good will from the parent figures. Olympic aspirations certainly put him in a “hero” child mode at least for a while which must have added to the pressure. As for you yourself struggling once again as a married adult with your uncomfortable but assigned role in your family of origin, with all its diminutive and frustrating attributions, and having your husband have to contend with that as well and be assigned his own disempowered role, certainly I am sure complicated your relationship with him.

All of us from borderline family systems have serious boundaries issues. Asserting boundaries are necessary to negotiate life. When that right is stripped from a child by a borderline type parent, the child grows up straining to feel and assert his or her rights in a relationship -- feeling it is dangerous to go there from past experience -- and that can be a rocky and crazymaking ride for someone the wounded child-adult has taken the awesome risk to try to trust, especially if that other person is struggling with their own historical baggage -- and also especially if that baggage is similar.

So much negative reinforcement growing up by our damaged parents to stifle and bury our wills. To consider our own needs and wants such an apparent and dangerous threat to our very welfare provided by our primary relations. We as adult-children, arrested developmentally, become overly reactive and not proactive with a chosen partner and this leads to frustration in the relationship. How challenging to keep the balance in an orbit of mutual trust when trust was not an option growing up, replaced by fear and hypervigilance to another’s will. That capacity to trust so impossibly and profoundly wounded from years and years of intimidating conditioning while one is the captive/hostage child. Sometimes showered with conditional love but then ambushed with too much blowback missing a cue or defying the disordered parent.

Years ago I read a great book called “Do I Have To Give Up Me To Be Loved By You?”. I bought it for the title alone which I bet you can understand. It turned out to be very revelatory. It stressed that there were two intentions one selects with each life situation. The intent to protect or the intent to explore. You can’t do both at once. Guess which one adult children of high stress backgrounds are drawn to? I remember telling someone that I had trouble understanding how high-achieving people were able to groove on something called “positive stress.” For me how could stress be positive. It was traumatizing then and now. But positive stress does have to do with achieving! Growing up risking was so fraught with danger. Failure was so shame-filled growing up for over-reacting parents, ego dependent on their children or projecting their own perfectionism excessively on their poor children.

Anyway, Bleue, you are someone today who does very obviously takes risk! Is willing to explore and thanks for role-modeling that for so much of us. Sorry to wax so psychological, but your earnest focus triggers my own earnest focus. Thank you for that!

best, libby
ps. as I was reading your powerful blog I kept thinking of that saying about people coming into our lives for a reason, a season or a lifetime ... and often we never know which category until late in the proverbial game.
L'Heure " Can we ever break free from our childhood chains? " What a question.. This was such an excellent and informative writing. And I agree with you on 'My only job is still to fix and change me.'' This is what I try too.

Thank you for telling, rated.
Yours is the voice of a woman who has learned to be strong.

Love happens. Being able to live with your love is something else.
People come and go into our lives for a reason. Sometimes we just cannot question but remember the good times and it sucks.
Libby, thank you again for so many valuable insights.
"When that right is stripped from a child by a borderline type parent, the child grows up straining to feel and assert his or her rights in a relationship."

A powerful statement. That was probably why other's thought our relationship so wonderful, neither of us ever tried to assert rights because we were loathe to step on the feelings of another. That's been my biggest struggle, I solve it with girlfriends by only having very thoughtful friends, everyone else is eliminated at the outset. In relationships with men if they start out thoughtful to woo, and then become thoughtless I run. If they become domineering or controling, I will chew my own arm off or theirs to escape. It's a huge struggle to begin working on having boundaries in my 50's, those who repeatedly fail to honor them are likely to have an unfortunate experience with me.

As far as The Cowboy's adoptive parents, I never had any sense that they loved him, nor did I hear them state it in any form. His mom would state proudly that they "sacrificed to raise our 4 kids and Cowboy" like it was a badge of honor and they went hungry doing it. As if they made sacrifices no other family had ever made using phrases like "worked my fingers to the bone," I could hear the guilt/obligation implied every time she spoke particularly by separating him from THEIR kids who were entitled to food and shelter. The reality was they weren't rich, but he was a train engineer and she was a housewife, their life was average and fairly secure, even if not a luxurious one. Once their kids were grown they acquired a nice RV, boat, nice home paid for, and nice cars, all the while crying poverty and suffering.

I think his only saving grace was he didn't love them, or pretend to, he only met what he felt as a sense of duty in going to visit or letting them come visit us. Fortunately they stayed in their RV or I'd have let them have it for treating him badly. Their children were thoughtless and condescending toward him though they seemed impressed with my background and demeanor. They seemed the sort of people who never met an equal, only those they thought were better or less than them. They lived not far away in Iowa but we never saw them unless his parents came to visit. I had the same feelings about his mom's family but his bio dad's family, who had far less money, was warm and loving. We had a huge family reunion so his bio siblings could meet their real father's family and honor their late mom's wishes. His biological brother was a wonderful man and fairly well adjusted, we became very close to he and his wife. His sisters were a mess having been raised similar to him and had problems with drugs, the law and unable to maintain marriages or keep and raise their kids. And so it goes with children raised that way.

It was anything but a storybook marriage, we had more hard times than easy ones, but overall it was good. Like me he had plenty of flaws but we managed to compromise and let small things go. He tracked cowshit on clean floors and I took forever analyzing ever option for each minor detail, like picking out drapes or how to organize a cupboard, trivial differences. I was loved for who I am instead of what I could do for someone. My thoughts, needs and feelings were honored and as a person I was cherished. It wasn't for a lifetime but it was a beautiful experience and I'm grateful to have had it. In looking at the past I learn not to repeat any mistakes. I'm relieved I no longer have to look at what happened to us anymore.

Again, thank you for being so open and sharing your own experience and wisdom so freely.
Olga, so far I find the answer is yes, we can break free if we choose it and want to change. From what you wrote I see you think so too. Love and joy to you.

V. Corso, thanks, you have that same voice. Love does not conquer all, we give it our best and that's all we can do.

Linda, it's hard not knowing why people enter our lives, or even not knowing why we ourselves do what we do. We can't even know what we're capable of or not until we try. Maybe I'm not capable of that type of relationship. If not I'm not going to fill my needs by shoving myself into my daughter and granddaughter's life. They have their own lives and I need to create the best life I can for me. This could be the best part of my life, that's what I want it to be. Love and hugs to you.
What an fascinating journey of self-discovery and personal growth. I'm sorry it's been a painful ride for you.

My wife has always said to me that I have no idea what some people deal with because I had an "enchanted childhood" (unlike her with conflict and abuse while growing up).

My parents always put their kids first and had zero interest in "appearances" for the sake of neighbors, family, or friends.

As time goes on and after reading things like this, I start to realize how lucky I was and how unfortunate it is for others.
You are a wise woman and this was a very insightful post.
We are all wounded and it takes so much effort and attention to get beyond our childhood wounds. Triggers are always important to look at.
Relationships are a dance-sometimes in sync and sometimes quite awkward. All we can do is be honest and keep trying.
Be well.
Joisey, thank you. What you wrote is very powerful, not that you should know how lucky you are, but that there is a awareness/understanding that not everyone had the same experience or is able to get over different experiences. In the same way that blind people have to find ways to function, those that have other disorders have to find ways. It's useless to pretend blind people can see, or demand they get over it and start seeing, it's useful to live like others and give them tools like braille and canes. Pretending for appearances sake or because it's easier is always harmful in the end. I pretended for 50 years and when I couldn't keep up the act, I fell apart and completely flipped out. Not good.

I have friends with parents that were not perfect but did a pretty good job, it makes me happy for them their parents made parenting their priority. I'm sorrowful that others have experiences like mine or worse. There is no reason these disorders can't be prevented in future generations. It might be painful to look at my life realistically but there's no reason I can't get better if I work at it. One of the most powerful things I can get from others is acceptance and understanding and I'm grateful for yours. I learned if it's okay to hurt, then it becomes okay to heal. Hopefully your wife has done a better job of healing than I did. Love and peace to you.

lady, yeah, so many triggers in all the walking wounded, sigh. I will admit it takes a lot of effort to heal and change, but the alternative is not a happy one.

"All we can do is be honest and keep trying."

There's a lot of power in doing just that. Thank you.
Very strong work, thoughtfull and enganging descrition of such a difficult journey .

"" "...It is the same with these parents regardless of what disorder they have or which one has it, every boundary must be stripped away, you're needs are of no interest to them.."''

And as you, what I have learned is to be indifferent when hated and to love when loved and

"Like me he had plenty of flaws but we managed to compromise and let small things go".

Rated with thank you for letting me know you.
Stathi, thank you. It would not be beneficial to dwell on his flaws or mine for this part of the journey. Instead I honor the goodness in him and our marriage, much like those who remember good childhoods with loving parents who also had flaws.
"I've told my kids if I disappear I'm dead, I'll fight to the death rather than be held hostage."

Hear, hear! I feel the same but I hope I'll have the courage if it's ever needed. Very moved by your post.
I simply must scold you, dear lady, for not pm-ing me
when you post. You must! i missed this one in
all the damn spam..

every paragraph packs such hard earned wisdom.
very very refined stuff, with the rawness still shining through.

"Where do you get your needs met when everyone needs you?"
is a question for the ages
you flippantly fling out there..and the conclusion!...

"This is what happens when you can’t live the lie anymore, eventually you break ...
I was angry and hurt that he left
but never felt bitter knowing he did all he could to protect me
from pain,
just like always.

I can't blame him for running, he never learned any other way."

what a wise woman you have become.
i mean it! you must inform me. when u post.
.........(¯`v´¯) (¯`v´¯)
............... *•.¸.•* ♥⋆★•❥ Thanx & Smiles (ツ) & ♥ L☼√Ξ ☼ ♥
⋆───★•❥ ☼ .¸¸.•*`*•.♥ (ˆ◡ˆ) ♥⋯ ❤ ⋯ ★(ˆ◡ˆ) ♥⋯ ❤ ⋯ ★
I know this sounds crass, but once someone leaves, who was either unpleasant or hurtful, I try not to re-visit. I find that the basis of the relationship is usually the same and the circumstances of our unpleasantness remain the same as well.

I have a sister with whom I have not seen nor spoken to in 5 years. It is better that way. Invariably our visits become an exercise in blame. She is not welcome in my life...there has been too much pain involved. I'm not looking for any more. If she comes by for a visit?
Well, then we shall see what she brings with her...ants or cake.
icyhigh, thank you but it's not courage that makes want to fight to break free, it's fear of being a hostage again, I'm a bundle of fear.

James, I never send PM's about posts but if you need to scold (puts fingers in ears and sings lalalala) go ahead.

Seriously, it's comfort knowing he did everything he could to protect me from hurt. I've had girlfriends that try to keep me from being hurt or hurting myself, that's how you know someone loves you. Wisdom can be costly and I find myself somewhat broken too. Good thing there are repair kits.

Algis, thanks, smiles and love to you too.

Ande, I agree. I'll go as far as to chew off my arm or theirs to get away from those who are hurtful. No way do I want them to return to do it again. It breaks my heart but I had to stop seeing my eldest child so I can understand your not seeing your sister. Thankfully my father finally passed away and we don't have to deal with him now.

As far as re-visiting memories, I try to block completely memories of my other husbands and if I could I'd have the part of my brain removed that holds all childhood memories. I'm really grateful to have one man in my personal life that was different. As I read Brazen Princess' post today I realized it really is rare, maybe it wasn't forever but I was lucky to have what I had.

Sometimes I wish he'd been hurtful or selfish, even if just in leaving because then I could be relieved that he was gone too. Sometimes I wish he'd died so that people could think well of him and wouldn't expect me to say bad things about him but that's just selfishness, and my ego. The worst I can say is he was raised by two soul-dead, cold-blooded people and managed to still be a good man. I wish him whatever peace and healing are possible. I work on my own. People who have brought ants are unlikely to suddenly bring cakes.
This post moves mountains and makes tears like rain.
.........(¯`v´¯) (¯`v´¯)
............... *•.¸.•* ♥⋆★•❥ Thanx & Smiles (ツ) & ♥ L☼√Ξ ☼ ♥
⋆───★•❥ ☼ .¸¸.•*`*•.♥ (ˆ◡ˆ) ♥⋯ ❤ ⋯ ★(ˆ◡ˆ) ♥⋯ ❤ ⋯ ★
Algis, that's one of the best ways I've ever heard it put, I'm moving away mountains of pain and washing myself clean. Thank you very much. Love and peace to you.
Wow. so much pain here. I think our pain makes us more empathic. I too had toxic parents. Sometimes I think it might be better to cut all ties & escape the cage.
wow great post! These are your best, when your heart bleeds on the page!
"Where do you get your needs met when everyone needs you?" nice