On Guard, All the Time

Time allows us to mellow.
Time allows negative feelings to dissipate.
Time allows us to heal.

Healing does not mean forgetting.

With the holidays here, many who have blended families will come together and share time.
Good for them.
If they can be kind and respect one another, they give those around them a wonderful gift.

Having survived the emotional abuse of a Narcissist, I cannot let down my guard.

Some may think I'm being petty.
Some may think I'm harboring.
Some may think I'm unforgiving.

Forgiving does not mean forgetting.

Anyone who thinks like that, hasn't been the victim of Narcissist Abuse.
They don't fully understand the toxicity and poison that is constantly vomited out of a Narcissists mouth.
They don't understand what projecting means.
They don't understand how low-self esteemed a Narcissist really is on the inside.
Narcissists are great fakers, love being worshiped, and having others think they are the greatest of all.

Emotional abuse can rock a person at their core.
For twenty-eight years I was told all I didn't do the correct way.
I was made to feel whatever I did,
however I looked,
whomever I was friends with,
wasn't right.

I was made to believe, whatever problems we had,
I was responsible for them.

I have worked hard to let go of my feelings of worthlessness.
It means little to those who read my words, but what he said to me, followed by his actions have scarred me so deeply.

I couldn't keep my house clean enough, he told me so.  It was said so often, that when he left, my own child said 'maybe if you had kept the house cleaner'... I was the problem.

I wasn't pretty enough, he told me so.
'He wasn't attracted to someone whose gut stuck out past their tits, in fact, he was never attracted to me. I wasn't the person he ever really wanted, and society made him do things he didn't want to do.'
Brutality in words.
You cannot see the bruises they left on my spirit.
You cannot imagine how much I hurt.
How does someone let brutality like that just roll off?
When someone you love says such horrid, poisonous comments, you question your worth to the world.
Lord knows I did.

I have worked hard to understand that so many insecurities in our relationship were really his and not mine.  I take responsibility for coming into the relationship wanting a romanticized love.  I was not stupid, I know relationships take work.  I had witnessed my own parents love; their struggle with money, how they worked together with the little they had,  and how they cared deeply for one another.  I watched my mom break when my dad died, and I believed in fairy tales.  True love trumps all, I thought.

The person I have become in the past five years, is amazing.
I don't feel I have changed, but I do feel I have had a layer of negativity lifted from my person.
I am grateful.
I am a pleaser, and I have learned to please myself.
I have learned to speak my mind, and say no.
I am no longer trying to please someone one who is un-pleaseable.
I love myself.
I love what I stand for.
I love all I have, and I do have enough.

Being healed means I have forgiven myself.
I have not forgotten.
I am not stupid.

 *****

Two weeks before Christmas, my former mil, whom I have worked on restoring a healthy relationship with and love very much, asked me to let her know when I was ready to 'hang out' with my ex.

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"You know, be together for dinner."
Christmas dinner was approaching.  My children would be next door at her place.

"Yeah, I'm sure that's not what your son wants."

"Oh, he told me he's ready when ever you are."

Liar, I thought.  He's such a liar.
Then I blurted out, "Well, he's lying if he said that."
She said she hoped he wasn't lying to his mom.
I told her I hoped not as well, but he's lied his whole life.

Her response was for me to agree to think about it.
Then she added, "At some point you have to let it go and move forward."

Moving forward does not mean I need to hang out with my abuser.
Would one expect a rape victim to sit around a dinner table with their rapist and shoot the breeze?

I had a panic attack that night after I returned home.
Full out shaking,
tears,
rapid heart beat.
I couldn't do something someone I care about wanted me to do.
I couldn't please her.
It would mean self harm if I did.
She doesn't understand.
Most people just don't get it.
Emotional abuse leaves invisible marks.
I woke the next morning with my stomach in knots and I couldn't eat.
I was set off by a conversation.  

He is her son.
I know that.
I think she loves me, but she doesn't understand what he really did to me.
She made me feel like I am not healed.

I am healed,
but I am not stupid.

I am forever on guard.

~Lisa Kroll

...yes. i am...

Thanksgiving found me traveling, and it was exactly what I needed.

*****

November 22 was looming. THIS November 22, along with being Thanksgiving, would be the 12th anniversary of my mom's death from stage 4 brain cancer, GBM.  If I were still married, it would have been the 32nd anniversary of that commitment, too.  I've been divorced for over three years.  At what point do I let that day go?  Maybe never, since it is tied to the death of my mom.  The longer it's been since my mom has passed, the easier it is to look back and recall the happiness and the positivity she shared with all.  My heart will always miss her. I keep hoping that like experiencing death, I will look back on my marriage ending, and at some point not feel like a failure. My heart truly is grateful to be free from abuse.  Regardless, it is hard to be thankful on a day filled with gloomy reminders of loss and failure.  

Since 2006, My sister and I have claimed Thanksgiving as a new family tradition we share. Elsa and Anna, together forever.  We joke about being those characters, but in our hearts, we do identify with them.  Sorry for our brother, who doesn't fit into a role.  He seems more planted in reality, less into the hopeless romanticism, supernatural, and magic happenings where we are planted.  He doesn't really believe in spirits, etc. and I'll sound crazy if I tell you, I do.  At least one spirit visits my house on certain days each year.  That is a story for another time.

*****

My sister and her family were to head away this Thanksgiving.  My present last Christmas was to join them, and we met in New York City.  Breaking a routine can be very therapeutic.

Over the past few years, life has not easy for my sister and her husband.  Juvenile arthritis, and Type 1 Diabetes (T1), along with Celiac Disease now reside under their roof. I watch in awe as my sister manages these in her daughters.  Apparently autoimmune diseases lay dormant in our genetic code.  My children should thank their father for his contribution to their being.  Together, my ex and I combined genes that blessed our children without any autoimmune triggers in childhood.  Under my brother's roof is a peanut allergy and Lupus.  Family should support one another.  My sister helped me through my divorce and I hope I can be half the rock for her that she was for me.  It was so nice this holiday, to share face-to-face, and in their space, their constant challenges. From a distance, I have been impacted and I am working on educating myself so I can be a help and not a hindrance.

Thanksgiving New York style meant loads of meals out, a parade, shopping, a show on Broadway, a walk through a BIG park and visiting art museums.  All done while surrounded by family, extended family, and T1. It was heaven for me, even getting to know T1 up close.  Finally, at one point, my sister had to hand off her kids my way.  The newly diagnosed Type 1 is really the biggest issue and concern.  I understand my sister's reluctance to share the managing of her baby's blood sugar.  This is serious shit.  Her kiddo could die!!!  No joke.  The time came when all three kids were literally hitting a wall and melting down.  We were in the second art museum of the day. We succeeded in boring the kids with so much Van Gogh, etc!  My sister and her husband wanted to see an exhibit, that neither the kids, nor I wanted to see it.  I suggested I take the kids for a bit.  As soon as we got away from the parents, the grumpy kids (again, I can't blame them, I would have been the same at their age being drug to not one but TWO art museums in one day), dropped to the floor against a wall.  Momentarily forgetting whom they were with, they thought we were going to wait right there for they parents. I had a different plan.  My experience is, when kids get grumpy...sugar them up.  But, we do have this Type 1 thing to remember.  Not intimidated, I said to the kids, "Let's go get a snack!"

The kids were revitalized.  Aunt L'sa to the rescue.  Mom and Dad needed time together, away from the kids, and the kids needed a diversion.  When families are separated, you can really seen what makes up their core.  Having all three kids with me, I noted how in tune with making sure our Type 1 kiddo was taken care of they were.  We looked at the menu in one cafe, and looked up carb amounts using my phone.  Together we made smart decisions.  I am proud of how my sister is raising her kids.  I suppose without our mom around to be proud of her, that honor falls to me.  My sister is a rock star who flies under the radar.  She is just like most moms I know.  We manage the challenges in front of us with grace and courage. Mostly, others never see all we do.  My sister is raising three little humans who have compassion for one another.  When my sister and her husband found us, my sister mouthed thanks.  It wasn't needed.  She hogs her kids all the time and I was grateful for time alone with them!

Our departure day came, and we rode to the airport together early in the morning, catching different flights after lunch. Our last adventure of this trip together would be to stay entertained in the airport. Unfortunately, my flight was canceled shortly after I checked in and made it through security. Within an hour of arriving at the airport, my plans had changed, and I was running to catch a new flight.  It was not the goodbye I thought I'd have with my family! My flights took the long way home, now going from LaGuardia, to Dallas with a long layover, and then on to Indy.  Thinking ahead, I had packed my lesson materials for Monday, in case my flight didn't happen at all and I needed to put in for a sub.  I would write plans from afar.  It was late in the evening when I boarded the plane in Dallas to Indy.  I was one of the last to get on, and I sat between a little girl and a guy I thought was her dad.  I quickly realized she was traveling alone.  She was nervous and quiet.  She started to cry just before we took off.  I tried to comfort her, but she didn't want my help.  Stoic and brave at 10.  I decided I should use my time to go over what I'd be teaching during the week.  As I pulled out my materials and was reading through things, the little girl asked me, "Are you a teacher?" I smiled and responded, "yes, I am... and I bet you're a student."

I was meant to be exactly where I was in that moment.

Teachers are more powerful than they know.  I felt the tension in the little body next to me subside.  She felt safe.

Looking at myself, I am safe, too.
I am glad I was able to go away this year and look at life from a different place.

Always spreading love, understanding and positivity,

Lisa Kroll

                        sister, aunt, teacher

Balanced, but Questions

Currently, I am feeling balanced.  
Life is good. 
I am happy with how things are going. 
I have let it go.  
I do not answer to anyone.  
I am my own person.   
I am successfully managing life. 

Yet, I question....
What if this is it? 
Have I reached my goal? 
I am healed.  
I have found peace. 

What if I am one of those people who can't be paired with another?  
My inner Elsa understands. 
As a person, I am a challenge.  
A good challenge, but still a challenge. 
I feel strong, capable, beautiful, smart, funny, independent, and my list of self-defining adjectives could go on, and on.  
I know that I hurt people when they try to get close to me,
because I can't trust and I won't rely on someone else.  
I won't ask for help.  
I still feel like I am too much work for another, because who wants to put that much effort into getting close to someone else?  
I have become good at concealing my weakness.  
I don't need anyone.

I think I am okay with, or at least, have come to terms with the invisible walls I have placed around my heart. 
I can handle, and enjoy life alone.  

Although, I worry...what if something happens and I need care.  
I lived through my mom having a terminal illness. 
What would I do if that happens to me? 

As someone who feels they don't need anyone, 
I guess I hope my life just ends.  
I don't want to be a burden to anyone. 
I know what will happen, and the thought saddens me...my care will fall on my kids, and my sister.  
I don't want that.
  
Did my own mom have these feelings?  
Rationally, I know it didn't matter in her situation.  
My siblings and I did everything for our mom, 
because she was our mom. 
Period. 
But, I wasn't a child of divorce.  
For some reason, that seems to make a difference in my mind.  
I know it's because I feel that divorce in a child's life seems to represent family doesn't matter.  
No stick-to-it-ness.  
No longer a united front.  
This is fallout from divorce.

Maybe if I was divorced when my children were younger, and not in their early 20's, where my ex and I had to work together for the kids sake, I would feel differently.  
I remain annoyed that I have to share MY kids, with their father.  
Maybe I haven't completely let it go, as I'd like to think. 
I was deeply wounded.

As young adults, my children have their own lives.  
Heaven knows, life has all ready dealt my sister enough adversity.  
No one needs me as a burden. 
So, how do people deal with this thought?  

Let me clarify, I am not sick.  
I do not have a terminal illness.  
I do have a mind that races though.  
I think, too much.  

Focusing on the positives, 
I am blessed.  
I do realize it. 

I do feel balanced.  
Life really is good.  
I am my own person.  

~Lisa Kroll

                                common super woman, and thinker

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Blogging Music:
     Frozen: The Broadway Musical by Kristen Anderson-Lopez and Robert Lopez

...back into the pool...

It's been over a year since I even thought about dating.  My last experience, was horrifying.  In fact, it's the reason I decided to get another dog.

I have spent the year since then, working on growing comfortable in my own skin.  Learning that being on my own isn't necessarily a bad thing.  I have needed to be alone.  I have reaffirmed, to myself of course, just how incredibly strong and capable I am.  Still, I am human.  I do long to have companionship.  I have learned, I do have many female friends, but I continue to long for a male companion.  My relationships with my girl friends are wonderful.  What am I missing then?  I think I am missing intimacy.  In order to have intimacy, that means I need to be able to trust again.  I will need to open my heart back up.  On so many levels I am starting back at square one.

Step 1. Learn how to date.

I am friends with younger teachers, ones whom could be my daughter, and I have witnessed their dating adventures, or mishaps.  I do not think that dating at my age is the same as dating at their age.  For one, they have different goals in mind.  They are thinking long term, growing with a person and starting a family.  Life is a new adventure for them.  They don't have baggage as I do.  For another thing, I think men at my age see online dating as really just a hook up site.  I don't want that.

A few weeks ago, I plunged back into the pool of on line dating.

Within an hour, I heard from three past ghosts.

The first, "Hello Gorgeous! How are you doing and are you having any luck on here?"

Ghost #1.
It was a guy I've known for three years.  He actually has my email address, and periodically emails me. He feels the need to let me know when he's read my blog, and give me his opinion that I still have a victim mentality.  I usually just ignore him.  He's really not worth my energy.  He reaches out when he wants to gloat about what he's up to, beat up emotionally on someone, and make himself feel better about himself.  It's an ego thing with him, and I recognize his BS.  He had just emailed me a few weeks ago.  In that conversation, he asked when Hootie was going to post again.  I asked when he was heading over seas, I know this sounds random, but it was about the time of year when he heads over seas to help his sister with her business. We've had this conversation for three years!  I know the routine.  October is his traveling month.  He needs to brag.  Again, I know this.  He wasn't reaching out to see about me, he was reaching out to tell about himself.  He told me where he's headed. Then, he added that he's dating my twin.  I simply said good for him and responded no further to his email.  I didn't tell him that I've moved on from my old blog.

On the dating site I asked why he was texting me.  I thought he was dating my twin?  He said he had to let her go.  It seems she was being disrespectful to him.  Ha!  I told him to have fun traveling.  The end, for now.

The next day, he disappeared from the dating site.  He'll be back.

Ghost #2.
The second ghost was a guy who wanted me to come over to his house to have wine two years ago on the dating site.  He told me he has a wine collection in his basement.  Hmm.  I didn't responded to his "Hi" this time.  I wonder if he realizes how creepy his pick up line sounds?  He's probably harmless, but I wasn't taking that chance the first time, and I definitely wasn't responding the second time!

Ghost #3.
The third ghost was bachelor number 3 from a year ago.  I would be remiss if I didn't say I felt a little unease.  He sent me a message, did I remember him?  Would it be possible for us to meet and chat.  I didn't respond at first. He persisted.  I said I would think about it.  I was stalling. I needed time to think of what to say to him. I told him that of course I remembered him.  I reminded him that our date had been horrible.  He said he agreed, and really hoped we could meet so he could tell me in person how sorry he truly was.  In the next 24 hours, he messaged me eight times.  "Hello!" "Good afternoon" "Are you still thinking?" Finally, I responded, "I think we need to let things stay as they are.  Our last date was horrible.  I know you feel bad, but we can not go forward.  I don't need to hear in person that you are sorry."  He said he understands.  Whew.

In the mist of this, I had a new guy message me.  He's not from here. He's working on a project and he's only here for another month.  I'll call him Mr. LA. He wondered if we could chat, and maybe grab dinner.  He quickly asked if I wanted his phone number.

Guys just don't understand the pressure a female deals with when attempting to get to know someone new. #metoo

Darn, in his pictures he's adorable.  He has a nice smile.
In his online texting, he seemed to be down to Earth.

I told him I did want his number, but that I needed to chat online longer.  He said he understood.  I can never tell when a guy says this if they really mean it.  But Mr. LA and I did chat online longer.  Then Saturday rolled around, and he contacted me late in the day.  Did I want to grab some food with him?  Learning from my past, I said yes, but I would drive myself to where we would meet.

When we met, I could tell we were both nervous.  I found this fascinating, I think of myself as the girl next door.  I'm not anything to be nervous about.  We ordered beers and food and then sat and chatted.  I'll admit, he did most of the chatting, but I was all right with that.  If he dominated the conversation, he would be someone who won't get attached to me.  He won't know my story, or any details about me. He can be that guy that just helps me get out again.  I was fine with that. He can be that guy that shows me that there really are nice guys out in the world.  THIS is what I need.  I listened to him and thoroughly enjoyed asking questions and hearing him talk.  He has an adorable southern accent.  He has sweet eyes, that could be dangerous to some woman.  His smile is just, so warm.  He is tall, and has dark wavy hair.  His arms are so strong.  I'll admit, he could make a girl feel safe, if that's what she was looking for.  I am not looking for anything, am I?  I don't need anything.  I don't need any one.  I am perfectly fine on my own.  This is what I told myself all night. I did long to share with him, but he was either so nervous he hadn't realized how much he was dominating the conversation, or he didn't really want to know about me. Again, it was fine.  I need to learn how to feel safe in the world when chatting to a stranger who potentially could hold my heart.

At one point, when he had a little alcohol in his system, he looked at me and asked, "Do you want to dance?"  I laughed.  "Do you dance?" I asked.  "No, not really," he said.  So cute.  Eventually, the night needed to end.  Stalling, he asked if I wanted to go on a walk.  I said I did, and when we looked around, the restaurant had been closed for 30 minutes.  No one else was there. We'd been outside, so it didn't really matter.  We walked for a bit, eventually making our way back to our cars.  He asked if he we were going to kiss.  I said yes, I'd hoped we would.  It was a very nice moment, and I really didn't want it to end.  It did though. We said goodbye and went our separate ways.  He texted me after he returned home.  I was a little giddy, and will admit I had trouble sleeping.  I had actually gone out with a person who was respectful and kind.  Maybe he had hoped we'd end up at my place, the untrusting part of my brain doesn't turn off, but he didn't push things and I was grateful for that. What did I learned from tonight? Step 2 needs to be learn how to have a balanced conversation.  Or was this a clear sign of someone who is not the right person?  It's probably a sign.

We texted a bit the next evening, but things drifted off quickly the day after that.  I was a tad sad, but not at all surprised.  He's going home in less than a month.  He's just passing through.  I told myself, it's likely he realized I'm a little older than himself and that makes a difference for him.  Or maybe he wants a girl who doesn't wear glasses, and is as smart and capable as am I. Or, he's likely having many other, younger, prettier fish chasing after him.  Regardless, I did have a nice night, and someone wanted to kiss me.

Remaining open-minded, and always hoping that my friends think of me when they find someone they think I should meet.

                                    ~Lisa Kroll

Inspired by fifth grade....Good Feelings to Birthday Wishes

So many years ago, when this teacher herself was a student, a memory was formed.  In my fifth grade, I had a teacher who would periodically make all the students spend 10-15 minutes writing down five positive things about the other students.  I believe the person who was the center of attention was likely celebrating their birthday, and this was an alternative to making us write birthday cards to one another.  It was called our Good Feelings book.  Very 1970's.  

I still have my book, although the cover was lost a long time ago.  After school on MY day, I went home and looked through the pages with a friend.  She and I labeled who must have authored each one, although some papers were signed, which made the process of identifying the writer a tad easier.  

I LOVED the fact that my teacher had us do this for one another.  When I was helping prepare for my (cough, cough) thirtieth high school class reunion a few years ago, I was surprised to find out that many of my friends not only remember these books, but also still have theirs.  

This year in my classroom, I am altering the idea, and making Birthday Wishes books.  In fifth grade, students are certainly more suave, and know whom they want to hang around versus who just plain isn't as cool as they.  In first grade, I hear, "he/she said they aren't my friend any more,"  but five minutes later,  I note everyone running and laughing together.  Part of the curriculum I teach is about Social Emotional Learning (SEL).  I think these birthday wishes books have been a wonderful addition to what makes my classroom atmosphere unique. I believe they also help my students learn how to expression their feelings, while being kind to others.  

Birthday Wishes, circa 2018

Good Feelings, circa 1974-75

Reneé M. and Carmen H. 

Terri Y. and Cindy C. 

Ann T. and Richard H. 

Kelly S. and Barb Ha. 

Kevin S. and Debbie P. 

Tracey T. and Loren C. 

David P. and Mike S. 

Unknown and Cindy E. 

Christie S. and Pete E. 

Kelly C. and Donna 

Barb H. and Frank K. 

Unknown and Unknown

Tom T. and Tom S. 

Cindy M. and Carol

Our Teacher, Mrs. Hyle

Looking back on these memories, I am not excited to publicly share the nickname bestowed upon me. Kids can be cruel when they are trying to be funny, but this was also a sign that I was accepted into the group. I had just started at this school in August. I am sad that some of my former classmates are no longer with us on Earth. It is a reminder that life is short. I am lucky to say I am still friends with many of these people though. I know we were being kids back then, and it's precious to see their kind words in their unpolished handwriting.

Some things haven't changed. I went through a stage where I tried to blow dry my curls out in the late 70's, because I wanted to look like Farrah Fawcett. It wasn't until long after college that I finally allowed my hair to be it's natural self. But in fifth grade... I had not yet discovered hair dryers, curling irons, rollers, or make-up, so my curls were naturally noticeable.  Clearly, I did not like Bob in the way the picture portrays, and you can see I needed to make sure I noted that!  Oh, fifth grade me! I also wasn't clumsy with the baton, as drawn either. I don't know if my classmates knew, but the year before this, I had flown to Hawaii to compete in a world competition where I did get a third place medal for a solo performance in my age bracket. I would go on to twirl baton for the band in high school, but eventually I would learn to twirl a wooden rifle because rifle twirlers were the in thing. My dad was sad when I stopped twirling baton. He had hoped I'd attend Purdue and try out to be the Golden Girl. Purdue was never on my radar, Indiana University was calling my name, and days as a twirler were long over. I also remember the game that was popular with our fifth grade class at recess was freeze tag. My skills for being fast are noted again and again, and I am glad to see I was a good sport!

Today when I teach, I am aware that building community in my classroom is really one of the greatest gifts I can give my students. They need to learn to work with and respect one another. I hope they go on to have life long friends from their youth, just like their teacher.

                                    ~Lisa Kroll

...but I birthed you...

I was aware of my children from shortly after they were conceived. I was sure I was pregnant before I had confirmation by home pregnancy test, and then doctors office.

For nine months, I was mindful of all I ate, how I slept, whether I emptied the cat box, how much I was on my feet, and any other thing that might effect the growing babe inside me.

I talked to my belly, saying how excited I was to have a new life inside me. I traced a little foot, or bottom as it pushed outwards from a long stretch. I loved going to the doctor's office after the 18th week, and hearing that little heart beat-beat, beat-beat, beat-beat.

Childbirth was hard, but not impossible, and the feelings of joy as I saw what I had nurtured, as each of my two children were laid upon my chest, cannot possibly be put into words.

Children.  My mom always said, "God gives them (children) to you for only a little bit.  They aren't yours to keep." I am pretty sure my response to her was, "I know mom." Even if I just thought it in my head.

Reflecting back now, I realize my mom wasn't telling me, but was speaking about me, in front of me.  She was trying to deal with her own heartache. I just didn't know it at that time.

My own baby turned twenty four recently.

She's growing into a beautiful woman. I am lucky because she lives nearby and I do get to see her.  But I didn't get to see her on her birthday. She had other things she needed to do. Other people with whom she needed to celebrate her day.

She, as most young adults, didn't realize I was thinking of her at 7:31 am on the exact time she was born. Or that I had been recalling my day before her entry into this world 24 years ago. Those memories are mine, and mine alone.

I finally understand my mom's words. I guess I'm not quite ready for my 'little bit' to be over yet.

~ Lisa