happiness – Page 2 – A Healing Journey by neverstaybroken

013 – Spirits of Thanksgiving Past

December 12th, 2024

Thanksgiving 2024 was an exciting and eventful time for me. In a positive way. This is a drastic change from just a few years ago.

This year, I stayed the night at Kim’s house. I awoke a little after 8 am. I stretched and rolled over. Our daughter (hers by blood, mine by miracle) was still sleeping. Kim was already downstairs, preparing for the day.

The kitchen was a phantasmagoria of aromas. The smell of ribs, brisket, and fried chicken floated through the air. When I opened the fridge, I found three pies: lemon meringue, banana cream, and chocolate cream. There were green beans on the stove and hot dogs in a pan for Jasmine. There were so many foods, most of which are not considered “Thanksgiving”.

It was unique. It was ours. And that’s what I loved the most about it.

I have spent many holidays alone in the past. On the surface, I was tired and lonely. But deep down, it was so much more convenient for me. As long as I was alone and bitter, I didn’t have to change. If everyone else was the problem, I had a damn good excuse to stay in the same sinking ship I had been in for years.

I actually had a lot going for me during my years of alcoholism. I got to be indignant and self-righteous. I had piles of pride and resentment. I had full permission to be bitter. All. The. Time.

And the ego. Oh, the ego.

This is how I went on. Wrecking my life and the lives of everyone who got too close. Until the morning I woke up face down on the floor next to an empty fifth of cheap vodka.

I hadn’t intended to drink the entire thing in 6 hours. It was supposed to last the weekend. But once I started, I was unable to stop.

Don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t an earth shattering revelation to me. I had made half-hearted attempts to stop before. But I had believed in the depths of my soul, that bottle was going to last me the weekend.

That’s when I knew I had a problem. I needed healing. But I wasn’t sure I deserved it.

I’d like to say that was the last time I drank. It wasn’t. In fact, it was far from it. I had to go through the cycle of relapse and recovery several more times before self-love started to stick.

I’m still going through it. But I know now that I will be okay. Because I finally believe I deserve to heal. There is a light for me. And I don’t have to be afraid.

Healing is yours. Love is yours. Happiness is yours.

Sometimes you just have to reach for it.

011 – Breaking the Cycle: Learning to Love After a Broken Childhood

September 3rd, 2024

My girlfriend came over after work today, and we talked about moving in together.

I’m sure that doesn’t sound like a big deal to most people. But if you grew up in a broken home like mine, then you’re more likely to understand.

A lot of us don’t know how to love. We don’t know how to express our emotions in a healthy way. We don’t talk to one another. We talk at each other. We hear instead of listen. We react rather than process.

And the truth is, it really isn’t our fault. I mean, how do you do any of those things if you’ve never been shown?

My father had his moments, but he never knew how to show me love. He knew how to exercise control. If he ever recognized his patterns of abuse, he didn’t know how to admit it. He most certainly didn’t know how to stop.

I didn’t deserve the things he did to me. You didn’t deserve the things that have happened to you. It wasn’t our fault, but we have to heal. And healing starts with forgiveness.

The question now is what do I do with that?

It’s been 25 years since my father laid a hand on me. I am now a grown man with my own family. I have my own child that I have taken an oath to protect. So how do I show her love when I don’t know what love looks like?

The only way to do that is to let someone in. Someone who is healthy enough not to lead you astray.

We have to allow ourselves the most frightening thing. We need to allow someone healthy to love us for the broken little bits we once were. It’s truly terrifying at first. I couldn’t dive into it all at once. But slowly, over time, I learned that it wasn’t the big bad monster I had built it up to be.

A little at a time, and I managed to learn how to love.

And that is something I would never trade for anything. Once you make it out of your dark place, it’s the most beautiful thing in the world.

If no one has told you they love you today, I love you. And you deserve to be the best version of yourself possible.

Do you have a story of healing? Where are you at in your journey? Let us know!

Image by AndreasAux from Pixabay

010 – Embracing and Overcoming Your Broken Self

August 26th, 2024

A strange thing happened to me on the way to my grave…

I began to heal. But the truth is, I don’t really have any idea where it’s coming from. In fact, for most of my life, I didn’t even know I needed healing. I was just a broken shell walking around, trying in vain to hold myself together, without realizing it.

Here’s the thing about my healing. First, I had to learn that I was broken. Then I had to understand that it was OKAY.

It’s okay to break once in a while. Break down and cry. Break apart and curse. Scream. Fall to pieces.

It took time for me. It’s still taking time. I finally realized it was okay to be broken. After that, I had to come to a belief that 1) I could heal, and 2) that I deserved to.

That was tough. Telling myself that I deserved to be happy, that I deserved love, and that all those people from my childhood were wrong.

But I also had to forgive them, and myself, for being broken, too. The only way I could do this was to show my broken self to somebody who was less broken than me. I had to lay out all my broken thoughts and beliefs.

And I had to be open to the possibility that they could do better than I had.

Forgiveness is by far the most difficult part. Nevertheless, I don’t think we can truly start to heal unless we can focus on our wounds, rather than the things that caused them.

If you forever curse the blade, you will forever bleed.

Go ahead and be broken for a while. Go through your process of grief. Or abandonment. Or whatever it is that you’re going through.

And take 👏 your 👏 time 👏 my fellow human.

Never STAY broken. Whoever or whatever has put you in this place of sadness. Don’t let it become who you are. You absolutely deserve to heal.

If no one else has told you they love you today, I love you. And I believe you will make it out of the darkness.

Image by Pietro Merola from Pixabay

009 – Appreciating Life’s Messy Moments

July 21st, 2024

One of the main components in my healing journey has been learning to appreciate certain things in life. This includes the things I don’t like.

As a child, through adolescence and well into adulthood, these two things were one and the same. If I didn’t like something that happened to me, I couldn’t appreciate it. It was through this ignorance that I remained largely stagnant.

This morning, Kim and I decided to have breakfast at Shari’s restaurant in Cheyenne, Wyoming. I like breakfast. Biscuits and gravy, sausage, eggs, hash browns, pancakes, waffles, French toast. If it’s breakfast, I want it on my plate. And because of this, I have discovered that breakfast is quite easy to appreciate. Especially when somebody else makes it for me.

In the middle of breakfast, our 8-year-old daughter sneezed. It wasn’t a normal sneeze either. Her poor little sinuses had been working to get something out for at least 2 hours. They picked a terrible time to do it.

I appreciate breakfast. I appreciate my child. I did not, however, immediately appreciate the mess. I froze. Jasmine froze. Kim dove headfirst into mama mode. She calmly set her silverware down. Then she directed Jasmine to the bathroom to take care of her.

During this 5-minute interlude, I had a little conversation with myself. In my head, of course. I was in public after all.

I won’t give all the tedious details of this conversation. However, the end result was this:

I deeply value Kim’s ability to be a mother. Not only to her children, but to other children as well. And on occasion, a full-grown adult male whose identity I won’t reveal. (For safety and privacy reasons, of course.) I value the privilege I have to witness such a beautiful thing day in and day out. I value my family, and through them, the love that is revealed to me.

I have to take the good with the bad, the happy with the sad, and accept my child for who she is, now and forever. It is through this acceptance that I find beauty and love.

And that is so much better than anything I ever found in the bottle.

Image by Horacio Moura Lula from Pixabay

008 – After the Night, the Morning Comes

June 2nd, 2024

It is 7:36 in the morning. I’m sitting at my desk, wrapped in a red blanket. My bedroom window is open. I could close it, but I don’t want to shut out the sound of the birds in the trees outside.

There was a time, not long ago, that I hated the sounds of morning.

They used to hurt. In my head and in my eyes. And in some empty place deep within. A place I was trying to fill with alcohol.

There was never enough room for both the alcohol and the morning sounds.

Early morning is a time of reflection for me. I don’t have to wake up. I get to wake up. I get to reflect on where I was 14 months ago. On who I was. I was a scared boy slogging through a daily routine devoid of meaning. Dragging my lonesome spirit through the desert. Doing so many things I didn’t want to do.

Because I thought I had to. Because I thought that was what I was worth. Because my childhood cult taught me that everyone else was more important than me.

It was so deeply ingrained in me that I hardly took the time to consider the possibility there could be another truth. Even after my family left them, their beliefs and teachings remained rooted.

If you’ve ever attempted therapy or recovery, then you know how difficult it can be to fix the frayed wiring in your brain. You’re not simply trying to repair what someone else broke. You’re trying to tear down and rebuild an entire set of core values that were not only created broken, but you’ve been using them broken your whole life. Sure, some of the wires might end up in the same spots. But you can’t know that until you tear and rebuild.

I am grateful to have the opportunity to rebuild. As great and terrible as that process has been at times, it is also bright and beautiful.

If no one has told you today that they love you, I love you. You can heal. You can be happy. And you are absolutely worth it.

Image by Hans from Pixabay

007 – Say What You Need to Say (WordPress Writing Prompt)

December 14th, 2023

Daily writing prompt

Tell us one thing you hope people say about you.

View all responses

I have an answer for today’s writing prompt, but it isn’t the one I expected.

”Tell us one thing you hope people say about you.”

Growing up, people said a lot of things about me. Much of it was behind my back. I was a shy, awkward child who belonged to one of those offshoot, crackpot religions. You know, the ones that like to knock on your front door or try to stop you on the sidewalk. I was never comfortable with my religion, but I was a child and I was stuck.

My father was abusive, to say the least. Between him and my religion, I was programmed fairly well. Help them. Serve them. Conform to them. I wasn’t supposed to think for myself. My father and my religion told me what to do.

Throughout my process of growing from child to man-child, I learned much about how to keep others happy. I measured most of my self worth by the feedback and acceptance of others, particularly those people I valued.

I did this to the point where I couldn’t really tell who I was anymore. I had no idea where I was at in life, or what I actually wanted. I was without direction. I was unable to love myself.

I cared WAY too much about what other people said about me.

It went beyond that, still. I cared what they thought. I played tapes in my head of what I thought they thought. Quick, casual interactions with strangers would turn into huge events in my head, and soon I would know, without any shred of doubt, that this person (or that person) thought I was a creep because I said hi weird.

Then of course I discovered alcohol, and for years I did my best to drown it all out*.

That worked until it didn’t. But I kept doing it. I did it because it was what I knew. I did it until someone finally came into my life who was patient enough to show me there was something better, and that I was good enough to have it.

Or maybe I was simply ready to listen, and she just happened to walk into my life at the right time. I suspect the real answer doesn’t matter so much as the healing itself.

Part of my healing process is learning to put less of my self worth on what people think or say about me. It involves getting back in touch with myself, listening to myself, and above all learning to love myself.

What do I hope you say about me? Not a damn thing. I just hope you can read my words and be inspired.

* Please read 002 – I’m a Survivor, I’m Gonna Make It (And So Are You) for more on substance abuse.

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

006 – I’m Moving to Japan (Poem)

December 2nd, 2023

I decided I’m going to
Sell all of my belongings
And move to Japan

So I can live in
One of those
Micro-apartments
That they show on YouTube

Where the kitchens are so small
They can barely hold
A hot plate
And a mini fridge

And the bed is
Little more than
A cupboard with a ladder

What a joy it would be
To stand on my
Two-foot wide balcony
Watching the traffic alone
Because there isn’t enough room
For a visitor

Oh, the peace I would have
In my tiny shower stall
By myself with
My one bar of soap
And my bottle of shampoo
Knowing there was no one
Waiting for me
To hurry up and finish

I would cook simple meals
Of veggies and noodles
And I would have fish on Friday nights

I would sit
In front of my only TV tray
And watch what I wanted

And when the smell of
Warm supper
Wafted through the building
No knock would come to the door
Because truly,
Nobody would care to join me

And when the steady thrum
Of outside noise
Became too much

And the demons from my past
Came a tap tap tapping

I would crawl into my cupboard,
Close the door
And cover my head

Because there is no room
In my Japanese micro-apartment
For anxiety and sorrow

Image by Masashi Wakui from Pixabay

005 – Why I Deleted My Earning App After Three Years

October 10th, 2023

I have an app on my phone that pays me to walk. I’ve made almost $200 using it. Here’s why I’ve chosen to delete it:

I’ve been using the app for over 3 years. It also pays me to play games, and watch a few ads every day. It even has a scratch off lottery where I can win coins (usually one, but they can pay up to a thousand at a time).

Once I earn enough coins, I can exchange them for any of dozens of gift cards, including Amazon.

But, I’ve realized it’s holding me back. So I’ve decided to remove it.

Most of these activities pay just a small handful of coins, even if I grind. 200 coins a day for walking. 25 for watching ads. Generally 1 coin per scratch off. And the games have this neat little trick where they slowly pay you less and less the more you play. There is a limit on every activity.

Sure, it’s a fun little app, but I often find myself getting hyper-focused on it. I want to get 20,000 steps a day, scratch all my lotto tickets, watch all the ads, and play some games. I get a nice little endorphin boost each time I earn a gift card. Plus, it’s good to set goals.

Right?

What started off as a fun little way to earn gift cards eventually became a chore. It turned into something I had to do every day. If I didn’t, I felt guilty for not achieving my daily goals.

But what about my other daily goals?

I can’t write while I’m walking. If I’m playing scratch offs, I can’t work on my books. And I’d be hard pressed to make an Instagram post if I’m grinding Match Masters for 64 coins in 1 minute, (then 2 minutes, then 3 minutes. Do you see their trick?).

Every time we choose what to do with the time we have, it comes at the expense of something else.

Do you get your steps or write?

Do you watch ads or clean the house?

Do you play a mobile game or visit family?

It can be argued that one can do both at the same time. But in doing so, are you truly vested in either?

Granted, sometimes you need a break, and playing a mindless mobile game while droning Harry Potter and flicking Frito crumbs off your chest is exactly what you need to do. You deserve to be happy, and you should do what makes you happy. Within reason, of course.

I’m choosing to do what makes me happy. As time goes on, I’m learning how to discard the rest.

Today, it’s a mobile app.

But who knows what tomorrow holds?

Have you ever given up something because it was holding you back? Let us know in the comments.

Image by Pete Linforth

004 – Resilience and Liberation: Escaping a Childhood Cult’s Influence and Embracing Self-Acceptance

September 20th, 2023

I was raised in a cult.

At the time, I didn’t know that’s what it was. I knew I was different. I felt abnormal. And I accepted it. My life was my life, and that’s just the way it was supposed to be.

I was taught to listen and follow. From a very young age, my entire sense of self worth was measured by the approval of my religion and my parents. And if they weren’t happy with me, then I wasn’t happy with me. I needed to do better.

My religion didn’t celebrate holidays. They were considered worldly. Because of this, I wasn’t allowed to attend birthday parties or sing Christmas songs in choir. If another child in my class brought cupcakes for their birthday, I would sit at my desk quietly. I tried to ignore the curious stares of the other children as they ate.

I knew I was different, and they knew it, too.

In choir, the music teacher would have all the kids stand on a small set of bleachers. She would stand in front of them and conduct. She put me in a chair behind her, near the center of the room, where I sat quietly. This happened for a few weeks every year. Sometimes she let me go to the library. Sometimes she made me sit.

The other children watched me the entire time, trying to understand why I wasn’t practicing Christmas songs with them. Maybe the music teacher didn’t notice. Maybe she didn’t care.

I knew I was different, and they knew it, too.

I was different at home, too. My father made sure I knew who his favorite child was. And it wasn’t me. After my parents divorced, he built my brother a bedroom in his new house. I had to sleep in the camper out back. Some weekends I didn’t get to go over at all. My brother did, but I didn’t.

The rest of my father’s new family got to sleep inside, but I didn’t. My childhood was spent being separated from others.

I knew I was different, and they knew it, too.

I internalized these feelings of being different at a very young age. Over time, I began to revel in them. On the surface, anyway.

Fast forward to adulthood, and I’m still trying to belong. I’m still learning to allow myself to be loved.

It’s difficult and scary to say the least. I’m learning I don’t have to belong. If I am true to myself, then the right people will accept me. I don’t need to fight for anyone’s approval.

And that is such a liberating feeling.

I am no longer in the cult, but the psychological effects are still very much prevalent in my life. I struggle with codependency. If Kim changes plans, I wonder what I did wrong. If we go more than a day without talking, I begin to worry she might leave me.

Sometimes I give too much of myself. I ignore my writing because I need her to know I’m there for her. I ignore my family and friends because I need her to validate my worth. And I have trouble allowing myself to believe my wants and needs are valid, and not just selfish. I try to accomplish so much, I become overwhelmed and burned out. Then I feel like a failure when I’m truly an amazing human being.

I am not a failure. As long as I get back up and keep moving forward.

And every day, I’m getting better. I’m not there yet, but I’m getting better.

I’m not going to be relegated to anyone’s camper anymore. I’m learning to accept myself and be happy. I will sing whatever songs I want.

And if I want a birthday cupcake, I’m eating the damn cupcake.

What is something you have had to overcome? Let us know at the bottom of the page.

Image by Goran Horvat from Pixabay

003 – Understanding the Symptoms: Healing from Childhood Trauma

July 30th, 2023

You are allowed to heal.

My fear, and a desire for control, are the symptoms of my drinking disease. A disease that was brought on by consistent, constant, and repetitive childhood trauma. Which was a symptom of my dad’s disease, and the collective spiritual sickness of a whole group of people.

The things my father did to me are not my fault. Just like the things his father did to him are not my father’s fault. However, this understanding doesn’t make the trauma, and its resulting symptoms, any less real.

Focusing on the symptoms is like focusing on the smoke when you have a grease fire in your kitchen. The smoke is merely a symptom of the actual problem. The trauma. Sure, you can open a window. Maybe set up a fan. But is that REALLY what you’re going to do?

No! You’re going to turn off the stove and pour baking soda on the pan. But not water. Water will only make it worse.

I didn’t know how to deal with the problem, so I instead focused on my symptoms.

When we focus on our symptoms, we often end up making the actual problem even worse. I chose to ignore my fire and drown out the smoke. Unsurprisingly, I made it worse.

Throughout my drinking career, I neglected my health, my finances, and my responsibilities. I put liquor before my loved ones. All of this out of fear. Fear of abandonment. Fear of failure. Fear of rejection. And a whole fat list of other fears. I constantly felt guilt and shame, because I wasn’t able to live life like a normal, responsible human being.

Well to hell with normal. I’m healing. And I am ALLOWED to heal.

I am tired of dealing with the smoke. It’s high time I started dealing with the fire.

But what exactly IS this fire I’m supposed to be dealing with? For me, it starts with identifying what happened to me and accepting it. This doesn’t mean AGREEING with it. Far from it.

“This is the thing that happened. This is how it made me feel. It wasn’t my fault. And I am allowed to heal.”

You are ALLOWED to heal.

I am not ashamed to be in therapy and sobriety. Quite the opposite. I am proud. And I will talk about it openly.

So I invite you to pack up all your mental baggage, lay it out neatly for everyone to see, and burn it to ash.

YOU. ARE. ALLOWED. TO. HEAL.

Are you healing? Share your experience with us at the bottom of the page.

Image by StockSnap from Pixabay

Tag: happiness