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