shoulder wings and mothers and sadbags

OW.
I hurt my shoulder wing working out. I've been doing this sort of woo woo online workout thing called "the class" some mornings before work. Ads for it feature a video of Emma Stone dripping sweat saying "it's more than a workout!" Yeah it is. It's a lot of hopping around getting sweaty and then checking in with your breath and "seeing what emotions come up and releasing them" and then doing jumping jacks and burpees and all kinds of things I am surprised to be doing. I like it, but today the arm stuff did me in. I had to stop. I pulled a muscle or something in my back. I had to lie down on the yoga mat. Marbs came and sat by me purring like she does.  I'm fine but it hurts under that shoulder wing bone. Guess I need to take it slower. I'm not a pro athlete! I'm not Emma Stone! So now I'm writing a blog. Maybe someone will read it and think "Oh life isn't just insta pics of bands and cats." I mean it is bands and cats! But also. There's shadows and spiders and attachment trauma. 

Speaking of attachment trauma...I am reading this book called "Mother Hunger" by Kelly McDaniel. It talks about the different mental health issues that result from certain Mother behaviors. It's VERY VALIDATING to hear Kelly say back to me that, "Yes you would have anxiety and trouble in relationships if your mother neglected you, had a substance abuse problem, failed to protect you from a sexual assault from your stepfather, and chose to ignore your emotional needs in order to please her narcissistic husband."  

Anxious attachment anyone? 

Okay so I knew this "Mother having issues results in daughter having issues" stuff already.....but still the way that she writes about "mother wound" stuff feels fresh.  It's resonating on a level where I'm shouting "YES!" a lot while reading the book. I enjoy that. Also something I had always thought...this sort of knowing I had about my mother passing down her unprocessed heavy stuff to me, even in utero--- all the anxiety and fear she had just seeping right into that umbilical cord. Plowing me over even before I was born. I just feel in my bones something happened to my Mother that she never talks about. That she never dealt with. My grandmother too. There's some blocks there. I know my mother was going through a lot while pregnant with me....that's when she found out my Dad had been having an affair and was in love with someone else (my sister Adrienne's mother). I'd like to point out here this was the 3rd affair my father had had while being married to my mother.  For those keeping track, my Dad was STILL was the best parent I had. And his marriage to Gloria was his success story. But he went through a lot before that and a lot being married to my mother. He was a good dad when he could be. He was complicated. But he was still more authentic and emotionally present and nurturing than my Mother who was NOT REALLY THERE. 

HOW DID I TURN OUT THE WAY I DID? HOW AM I EVEN HERE? 
I've said it before and I'll say it again. Art. Friends. Therapy (for 20+ years).  JUST TRYING to look at your shit and see what's there. And get help. Support. Which is scary. And exhausting. But when you’re at the bottom, feeling like you’re hanging out with the roots of a tree and crying a lot…what's the alternative? Repeating patterns? Projecting your stuff onto people? You may still do these things but maybe you have a little bit more awareness after you get help.

Have I often felt like too much? 
Yes.
Do I need more therapy? 
Yes.
Do I have big trust issues?
Yes.
Still?
Yes.
Check Check check check!!!!

But somehow one thing I have always had is this desire to reach for the light. And grow.

Am beginning to think I'm writing my musical as a self-help note to myself. To have fun with the tragic aspects of bad mothering....to flip it. To feel such a heavy loss for so many years....well it can drain you. Something has to shift with that energy. I think I'm trying to shift it by writing about it. 
I am estranged from my mother. The rest of the family I am estranged from in varying degrees. Let's just say there's a lot of silence. From me and back to me when it comes to "family".  My friends are my chosen family. This puts a lot of pressure on them and I'm aware of that and I go back and forth between not sharing my inner life as much and then sharing too much of my inner life. Still figuring things out there.....with emotional boundaries. With Trust. And then I decide to write a blog and blurt out A LOT all at once and WHAT?
Okay. Well here we are.
Losing my Dad last year and going through perimenopause (good god. if you know you know) have woken something up in me to want to talk more. Cause in the words of a therapist who said to me in my 30's, "You're no spring chicken", what do I have to lose? I felt like it was kind of rude of him to say that to me as I was like 33 then.... and I believe we can do things at any age and learn things at any age, and why all the shame about aging? But back to the point......I don't have much to lose. Talking about this stuff doesn’t change much. Except I feel a little lighter. Maybe? We’ll see!
We're all mixed bags of vulnerability and working through heavy stuff and letting go of shame and trying to be badasses while carrying our own sadbags around. SADBAGS. And it's a constant practice of putting one foot in front of the other and saying, "Yeah I'm here. I did good today. (whatever thing you liked that you did put here ____).  For me, I wrote this post. And made goddamn delicious coffee. And the day is still young. I may clean something. Look out!

My word for this year was "Permission". In that spirit I gave myself permission to post this. I let the dogs out. Told a little truth. 
Good morning!

Me and my Grandma.

My Dad and my Mother- at a school dance in college. They met at Michigan State. LOVE THAT IT WAS CALLED “MY SHADOW”