I am so honored to be featured on the Moms Who Rise website!
What a priceless blessing to have the opportunity to share my story with others and raise awareness!
To read more, check out the complete article here:
Meet Kristine
Be sure to read the stories of other inspiring Moms Who Rise too!
“You’re crazy” “You are so dramatic” “I never said/did that” “You really need help” “Its your fault” “That never happened/You are imagining things” “You’re being irrational.” “You’re so emotional/sensitive/take things too personally” “It was a joke/I was just kidding/You have no sense of humor” “You don’t believe me/like it, that is on you.” “It’s not my fault”
These are just a few of the many phrases used by gaslighters. What is a gaslighter, you ask. A gaslighter is a person, who, in order to gain more power, makes a victim question their reality and sanity. Anyone is susceptible to gaslighting, and it is a common technique of abusers and narcissists. It is done so slowly that the victim never really knows it is happening.
The Chicks wrote a song and album titled Gaslighter and there other songs such as the one by Snow the Product called Gaslight. If you log on to Tick Tock you are sure to see videos about gaslighting. People are becoming more and more aware of this type of crazy making behavior. It is mental and emotional abuse.
I endured gaslighting for years and questioned my own sanity countless times. It caused me to have horrible anxiety as well as depression. Over the years I have filled countless notebooks and post it notes with reminders to myself. I still have a difficult time trusting myself and write everything down.
If a person calls you “crazy” or is making you think you’re losing your mind, that’s a major red flag of gaslighting. Gaslighting is real. It is abuse that happens gradually. It sneaks up on you one small lie, manipulation, rude/insensitive comment at a time until all of a sudden you wonder if you’re actually losing your mind. I know, I questioned my sanity so many times, I lost count. It has taken years of therapy to undo the damage.
Do not blame yourself. I know I don’t. Look for the signs: If they call you names like crazy. If they lie to you, and deny it. If they get defensive and angry when you disprove a lie they have told. If they use the things that matter to you as emotional ammunition. If they make snide comments and call you ‘oversensitive.” If they accuse you of being forgetful and make you feel “emotional” or unworthy. They are gaslighting you.
You are not crazy.
Do not walk away…run!
Peace.
#tutulady
#forwardisapace
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
We are all surfers… learning to ride the waves. Sometimes we ride alone and sometimes we ride with others… however learning to surf takes time and practice. It is never the same and it is not easy but once we get the hang of it, we can do it. Some waves are more fun than others but the challenge is the same …. get back to shore safely. Just as the waves in an ocean change, so do emotions. Like waves, emotions might be calm and peaceful one moment and at another rocky and unpredictable.
When the waves of emotion come, like any good surfer, we have have a choice, we can choose to get in the water and face them head on or stay on the shore. There is really no point in avoiding the waves or trying to fight them. Eventually we will have to face them at some point so why not take a deep breath and dive in.
Waves, be they in the water or emotional waves, are forces of nature and demand respect. Mother Nature does not mess around! When we acknowledge that power and are fully present, we can go with the flow of the wave and let it to lead us safely to the shore. Fighting against the current and those forces of nature may cause us to be carried further out or under. Good surfers never lose sight of the shore.
Each wave requires adjustments. No one masters any wave, we all learn to better negotiate and navigate the waves. We learn from our own experiences and the experiences of others.
Will we get knocked down, wipeout and take on some water occasionally? Sure, but we come up to the surface, breathe deep and try again. And if we really get into trouble, there are lifeguards (friends) who are there to help rescue us before we get in too deep.
When faced with the waves of emotions, it’s time to face the fear and move forward. We can ride these waves or sit on the shore and watch.
This is your life. The only thing that is scarier than dying is living a life someone else picks for you so jump on that surfboard and ride the waves.
Peace,
#tutulady
#forwardisapace
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
Kristine Binder 