Tag: narcissist

Peace

Kristine Binder

Peace. It is a word that means a great deal to me. There are lots things in my home with that word. I have many pieces of peace sign jewelry. I have shoes with peace signs on them. I sign my emails and blog posts with “Peace.”
I always thought I loved the word Peace because I am a hippy at heart. I love all things 60’s and 70’s, especially the music and fashion. I truly think Stevie Nicks is my spirit animal. While all that is true, it is not really why I love that word and all that it embodies. I realize now that peace has been my end goal….it is what I have been looking for in my life.
During my marriage, my life was chaos. I mean, having multiple kids all going different directions and a wasband that was rarely home, chaos was a given. Or so I thought. The times the family was all together, things were no better…..they were often worse. I failed to realize at the time that I was constantly walking on eggshells, as were my kids.
Do not get me wrong, there were many fun, good times but, what I realized after my divorce, was the true cost of those fun and good times. Family activities were enjoyable but there was always a great deal of drama involved. Family dinners had a great deal of laughs, until things went too far with someone always leaving the table crying. Homework and school activities were all my responsibility (I mean I was a teacher, right?). I made excuses so regularly, it became the norm. I was always going places on my own with the kids…so much so that people joked about my invisible partner.
I felt like a ballerina because I spent so much time tip toeing around all the moods. I was constantly on alert, and constantly trying to shield my kids from the next mood swing. It was exhausting. Living in a state of hyper vigilance takes a toll on the mind and body and I was falling apart. All the while I leaned on that word….Peace.
I just wanted peace. So, I started running. I ran for miles and miles looking for peace. Running was my time to quiet the voices in my head and physically exhaust my body to the same level as my brain. Recently, I was lamenting about not training for the marathon this year and a friend pointed out that I no longer needed to train for or run the marathon. I had used marathon training as an escape, trying to find a place of peace in my life. I had finally crossed the finish line with my divorce and the race was over.
I have now retired the toe shoes and tossed the eggshells. I walk, and run, with new purpose. I stand on my own two feet that are firmly planted on the ground. I breathe deep, inhaling the present and exhaling the past. I look forward and move forward from a place of peace. My life, my head and my heart are finally at peace.
Peace.
#tutulady
#forwardisapace

Therapy

Kristine Binder

The first time I went to therapy I was in 18 or 19. My mom wanted me to go with her and talk about our “issues.” I went to make her happy and listened. I was not there willingly thus got not one thing from that visit. I hated every second I was in that office.
Other people that went to therapy. It always seemed like something for the rich to navel gaze thus it was not for me. I did not have the time nor the money.
My return to therapy was not by choice. It was court ordered. Yes, it was ordered by a judge as a condition of my court supervision. I had to attend and complete a therapy program. Why did I have court supervision? I was arrested for shoplifting. Yes, shoplifting. That is another story for another day but it was one of the best/worst things to happen to me.
Once again, I did not want to be there. However, I did not want to go to jail so I took the opportunity to participate and learn. The therapist told me I had anxiety that needed medication which meant another, different doctor in order to get the prescriptions. So, I went, met the new doctor and got the meds. I took the medication but was not sure it was working as I did not like how I was feeling. I was trying to hold it all together and keep everything all a secret from my kids and everyone else. I didn’t know if my anxiety was from keeping the secret, the shame of it all or from something else.
Continued appointments with the therapist led to her diagnosing the source of my anxiety and depression. It was my marriage.
Nope…..I was not talking about that. She did not have to go home and live in my house….I did. Thus, I was not discussing my marriage. I was in serious denial, terrified she would see right through me. Once I completed the program, I stopped taking the meds and going to therapy all together. None of it was working and being called “crazy” at home was making it worse. I went to back to court with certificate of completion and then moved on with my life….or so I thought.
My anxiety did not get better…it got worse. Much worse. I really thought I was going crazy. I was forgetting things and having to write down everything. The panic attacks in stores had only gotten worse. The mere thought of shopping and stores caused me to hyperventilate.
I secretly took a day off work and drove to an inpatient facility. I went though all the intake steps and met with 3 different doctors. I had wanted them to tell me that I was fine and overreacting. That did not happen. All suggested inpatient care. Nope….not happening. I was a mom and had a job. I could not do it. I drove away knowing I really needed help but was not courageous enough to get it…yet. I was so filled with shame and falling deeper into the rabbit hole of denial, shame and depression.
For the next few years, I used running to try to manage my ever growing anxiety and depression. I was literally trying to outrun my mental health issues. After filing for divorce, I was sinking fast. I was really falling apart. My lawyer told me that therapy was a non-negotiable. So I called 4 or 5 different therapists that specialized in divorce and anxiety, leaving messages for each one. Truth be told, I cried while leaving each message. I must have sounded like such a prize! Who wouldn’t want to take me on as a patient?!
One therapist called back. Funny enough, she had also been recommended by a friend. During that call, she talked me off the first ledge and we scheduled an appointment for later in the week.
I started meeting with her bi weekly. Yes, I sat on her couch 2 times a week and just cried most of the time. With her help I started to open up. I was literally coming apart at the seams, falling apart all over her office. I apologized at every appointment. It was a mess. I was a mess.
For each appointment I would show up with my boatload of emotional baggage that she would slowly help me unpack it. It was NOT fun. As a matter of fact, it sucked. I left each appointment feeling like I had run another marathon…just emotionally (instead of physically) worn out. I also left with homework I never wanted to do because it was WORK! However, this time I was ready to really do the work. This time I needed to do the work. My life depended on me doing the work.
I was finally ready to face the source of my anxiety and depression head on. She, just as the therapists before, told me what I had not wanted to hear before……the source of anxiety and depression was my marriage.
I learned the terms narcissism, narcissistic abuse, gaslighting, emotional abuse and how it all took a toll on my mental heath over the years. It is still work to overcome the triggers to regulate my anxiety and depression, but that is why I continue to attend therapy and do the work.
I am a huge advocate of therapy for anyone of any age. It takes time to find the right therapist and you have to be ready to do the work. You have to be ready to own your life and your choices but it is so worth it. Invest the time and energy in yourself and your mental health. You are worth it.
Peace,
#tutulady
#forwardisapace



Shame

Kristine Binder

Shame lives in the shadows. Shame thrives on secrets. Shame is that still small voice that whispers to us we are not worthy, we don’t belong and we don’t deserve love.
Shame and guilt go hand in hand. Guilt keeps us stuck in the past. Shame tells us, “I am bad.” Guilt tells us, ” I did something bad.” When we give voice to shame we reduce its power over us. When we give voice to guilt, we can accept responsibility, apologize, and move forward.
Over the past year, my kids have been sharing memories with me. These are not fun filled, sunshine and roses memories. These are uncomfortable, vulnerable memories that are shared with caution. At first, my kids tread lightly, testing the waters, careful to protect my feelings. More recently, the stories are more painful. They are vivid, detailed stories filled with emotion. Some are stories of events I don’t remember or have blocked out.
A few weeks ago, one of my kids started sharing a memory of a trip to a restaurant years ago, and like on cue, her sister began to insert details she remembered. Together, like a tennis match, words going back and forth, they shared pain of a day I did not remember. However, the minute they started talking, it was as if a TV had turned on in my brain and it all came flooding back to me. I could see it all happening in “real” time. I sat there with the color draining from my face. The guilt and shame I felt was visible and palpable. I had trouble catching my breath. I inhaled and said, “tell me more….” Yes, I wanted to know more. I wanted them to give voice to the pain. I wanted it to spill out all over the table.
What I have found it that when we give voice to these painful memories, we can let them go. It is not about placing blame but about accepting responsibility. Listening to my children share their pain of the past, allows them to release it. It also allows me to apologize and accept responsibility for for not being the mom they needed or deserved as youngsters. Together, we can release the guilt and shame of the past in order to move forward.
I know that my kids, now young adults, are more comfortable sharing these memories with me because I am stronger and more at peace. Is it fun to hear these stories my kids share? No, but it is vital to our healing. Together, we are becoming closer, developing deeper, more meaningful adult relationships because they are willing to be vulnerable and I am willing to listen without judgement.
Shame and guilt can not survive in the light. So open the curtains and let the light in. Live in the sunlight of belonging and acceptance. Live in the light of unconditional love and peace.
Peace.
#tutulady
#forwardisapace


Divorcery

Kristine Binder
This was taken outside the courthouse
August 9, 2017

Emancipation Day
Independence Day
Liberation Day
Release Day
Got My Name Back Day
Freedom Day
Today is the 3rd anniversary of my divorce. Getting to this point cost me 25 years of my life and thousands of dollars however the emotional toll it took on me and my kids cost the most. Therefore, I honor the journey!
With each year that passes, I can see more clearly that this day is truly a day to celebrate. It is the day I took my life back. It is the day I decided I wanted more. It is the day I took my name and my life back.
The first year was hard. It was difficult to have faith in myself and my abilities. The constant fighting of the previous 2 years during the divorce had consumed me. That had overflowed into all parts of my life. I could feel the overwhelm and began to see it in my friends and family too. They were tired FOR me. The final ruling from the judge was like a sigh of relief….for all of us.
It was then on me to find my way forward.
Year 2 was so much better. I was finding my way and getting stronger with each passing day. I was discovering who I was at this point in my life and creating my new identity. It was like peeling the layers of an onion. With each victory and each setback I was learning and I was moving in the right direction.
I was finding my way forward.
Year 3 was one of the best yet! I have made so many gains and realized dreams that I never thought possible….a best selling book, a job I love, becoming a Certified Professional Life Coach, public speaking, emotional and financial stability…. the list goes on and on. I feel that I am becoming the woman I was always meant to be.
I am finding my way forward.
So today, just like each year on this day, I remember the courage it took to free myself. I remember how hard I fought to save my family. I remember how hard I fought to save myself and create a better life for my children. I remember the mistakes I made and all the lessons I learned in the process. Instead of focusing on the pain, I find comfort in the good times and growth. I know, deep in my soul, that I am stronger and capable of so much more than I ever imagined. I am moving forward, focused on the future.
I am courageous. I am brave. I am empowered. I am free. I am ME!
Peace,
#tutulady
#forwardisapace



Fine

Kristine Binder

Yes, those are scars from when a trash can full of sandbags fell on my leg, but that is another story for another day.

“Um….are you ok?”
“Yes….thanks….I’m fine”
That is how the conversation with a the harbormaster went that afternoon.
“Mom….are you ok…..”
“Yes, honey…..I’m fine…..”
That was how the conversation with my 11 year old son went later than day.
“Is there anything else I can do for you? Are you ok?”
“I’m fine thanks….”
That is how the conversation went with the waitress later that evening.
I was fine….really I was sooooo fine.
I had been fine for over 20 years. Just fine. However, on that day….6 years ago, I decided that I didn’t want to be “fine” anymore. I deserved better and so did my kids.
That day was the first time that he screamed at me in public, called me stupid, worthless and a dumb bitch, because I could not back up the jet ski trailer next to the dock. Have you ever tried to backup an old school Suburban with a ‘rack’ (trailer) attached into the water….and you can’t SEE the rack? Yea…..easier to thread a needle on a rollercoaster! I was doing my best but it was not good enough, nor fast enough. Every one of the 4 docks was filled with people and he was screaming at me…..in front of them all….but more importantly, in front of our son. He had berated, teased and yelled at me for years but this was the first time around people other than our family and if I could have crawled deep into a hole, I would have. I was mortified.
The harbor master came to see if we ….I …..needed help. I was fine.
While my wasband secured the jet ski that was finally out of the water, my son sheepishly asked if I was ok. I was fine.
We went to dinner before heading home. After the wasband threw a fit because we could not sit in the bar area due to the fact that our son was under 21, we sat down and ordered. Nothing was good enough and the server steered clear of our table. When she brought the check, she looked me right in the eyes and asked if I was ok. I was fine.
But I was soooo far from fine. I was done.
I was done but I was not strong enough to really be done. That would take several more months….ok several years. I knew something was going on and I needed to figure out if it was me or him.
6 years, a messy divorce, and LOTS of therapy later, here I am. It is not lost on me that the photo above came up on my timehop yesterday….the same day that I became a Certified Professional Life Coach. So much have changed in those 6 years. I am now a badass at boundaries, I am stronger than I ever dreamed possible, and I am so much better than FINE.
My goal has always been to help others, especially women, live their best life….no one should live the life I lived. No one should be abused. No one should be treated as “less than.” No one should ever be just “fine.”
Are you “fine”? Do you want more for yourself and your life than ‘fine’? You deserve better! You deserve to live the life of your dreams! Reach out and connect. I am here to help.
Peace,
#tutulady
#forwardisapace