I Don’t Feel Safe in “Safe” Environments

There is a reason I tense up if someone pats my back. There is a reason why I don’t enjoy casual/friendly touching. There is a reason why I find myself the calmest in the midst of a shitstorm, and there is a fucking reason I’d rather be in the midst of a shitstorm where there is yelling, swearing, throwing of things and fearing for my safety than surrounded by people who would never get in my face or even consider raising their voice at me.

What is the action plan to protect yourself against people who want to love you for you, who are for you, and want to remind you every day you are worth it? And what does it mean when these supportive people aren’t family, what if they’re your coworkers and bosses, too? What then?

I don’t feel safe in “safe” environments because I don’t know the rules tied to safe environments, and the ones I do know I lack, i.e. trust, give the benefit of the doubt, and understand unconditional love.

Over the weekend I heard the phrase, “I just don’t think I’m at the point of where I’m ready to leave,” and it instantly brought me back to a time where one of my old roommates was explaining to me why she couldn’t dump her aggressive, obsessive, and controlling boyfriend. All the while my boyfriend at the time was doing a sweep through our apartment before we got home to double check her man wasn’t hiding there, waiting.

It reminded me of another friend, who took me years to shake and put me in situations that could’ve (and should’ve) killed me. Bottom line, the danger never scared me. I knew it, felt comfortable because I knew the rules and have always been extremely confident in my abilities to keep myself safe. I had plenty of practice.

And this is why I think “safe” environments make me itchy. I don’t know the rules. If I’m not on the lookout, then what the hell am I supposed to be doing? Enjoying? But do I deserve to enjoy it?

I Googled the definition of a ‘safe’ environment and was a little shook to see it’s described as a place where one feels safe to express emotions, security, and confidence to take risks and feel challenged and excited to try something new.

My definition of a safe environment is that nobody can get in, my space feels safe when I am alone and safe from the outside and positive nobody can get in.

There's a reason I don't feel safe in safe environments blog post quote

This journey has not been an easy one. But I am worth it. Also, this is

Introvert, Extrovert, Or Both?

I like to guarantee myself space. There is nothing wrong about you needing quiet and alone time to recharge your batteries. For a long time, I felt shame when I had the urge to separate myself, mostly because those around me made it feel like a bad thing.

Plus, being called an introvert feels like a dirty word. Who would want to be labeled as introverted when they’re the stereotypical quiet, shy, meek and feeble person in books, movies, and what your friends say about ‘those people?’

But let me tell you something, the definition of introverts and extroverts are not based on personality types i.e. introverts are shy and extroverts are fun and outgoing. It’s about where you get your energy from.

Introverts recharge by spending time alone. Extroverts recharge by being social. There is nothing wrong with you if you feel re-energized by spending time alone, and if you feel no shame about where you get your energy from then, way to go you! You’re ahead of the game!

Oh, and curveball, most of us fall somewhere in the middle and are categorized as an ambivert. There are very few true introverts and extroverts.

For example, I recharge by spending time alone, enjoy one-on-one conversations, and have close relationships with few people which are more introverted qualities. On the flip side, I accept change, can work a room filled with people I don’t know, speak up in meetings when I’m not prompted and get distracted easily because multi-tasking is. my. jam! These qualities are more extroverted.

Feel free to check out this quiz to see where you land. I got ambivert BTW. Also, this chart from HuffPost is a fun either/or graphic…

huffpost introvert extrovert graphic

I would let (again and have now realized) others make me feel bad when I needed space because of their comments, “Shannnnnnon, c’mon! Stop being such a recluse, you gotta quit being so…”

There is nothing wrong with saying no to social functions on behalf of your own need to recharge. What they think of you for needing the space is none of your business, remember?

And as Ron once said to Harry…

harry potter quote about not letting the muggles get you down

Cheers to becoming more grounded in who I am as a person. Holy shit it’s taken long enough.

COME BE MY FRIEND ON INSTAGRAM. I’M HILARIOUS.
Blog image for Tonny Robbin Mic Drop

Tony Robbins Mic Drop Part II

“Which parent did you crave love from the most…” and, “who did you have to be in order to get that person’s attention.”

This is the Tony Robbins mic drop. This question ALSO relates back to last week’s post about drowning in other’s opinion of me. I craved love the most from my Dad. I never felt loved for who I was, only for who I could be for him. The person I needed to be was someone who went above and beyond in every and any situation.

For example, one time, Dad needed somebody to help him paint the outside of the house underneath the deck. He convinced me I was a perfect size and fit for the job, so I agreed. Put on my painting clothes, climbed underneath the deck and crawled over to the spot where dad was hoisting down my paint bucket.

I got paint all over me by the time I was done. Instead of a thank you, I got criticized for how much paint ended up on me and a lecture about being better, faster, and smarter. Everything I did was expected to be perfect, there was no room for grace.

Nothing is good enough as is, you must always push for better and greater, otherwise, you’re a lazy bum who will amount to nothing. And this is a theme I carried throughout childhood and working on to this day to unwind because while it’s important to have the drive, it’s also important to celebrate your victories along the way. Otherwise, you live in a constant perpetual state that plows you through life without appreciating any fruit of your labor and leaves you always feeling, never good enough.

This constant pressure to know better, be better and do better, fueled my need to overachieve in all the things. What I didn’t know then but know now is that I was over-performing in hopes I’d get his attention. Tell me I’m doing a good job, please! Tell me you’re proud! Tell me I’m not a fuck up! 

And right about here is where the bomb exploded in my head like, oh shit. I’m still living and making decisions based off of the want to please my Dad and make him proud because I want to hear ‘”I’m proud of you,” or “I love you for you,” from him before it’s too late.

Jesus, I’m still living under his strict and harsh expectations for me and I haven’t lived under their roof in over a decade! Instead of asking myself how I want to proceed, etc. I’m operating out of habit and the underlying need to please Dad.

Well, hot. damn.

Once again, I need to get the extra voices out of my head and focus only on mine.

Let’s go back to last week’s post for a moment and bring these two together. I have anxiety because I’m trying to please those on the outside looking in and ignoring my own personal wants by burying them under endless mountains to climb/projects to finish.

By not paying attention to MY voice and worrying constantly about how I can show up for others causes massive anxiety because I feel split. Do I actually want to freelance? Do I actually want to have my own company one day? Do I actually want…

When people ask me what I want to do I simply tell them, I want to write books and make a difference. I realized I need to commit to making this real. I never commit to consistency with this blog or the content I publish on my Instagram. I’m not intentional and I keep it small by not sharing these blog posts on other platforms.

I feel less anxiety when I embrace every part of me that makes me, me. And if you need the reminder to love you for you, here it is: we need you as you are, you’re you for a reason.

Tony Ribbins Mic Drop quote on blog

Come be my friend on Instagram. I’m hilarious.

I’m Drowning In Other People’s Opinions

I am drowning, drowning, drowning in other people’s opinions on how I should be living my life and never realized how much I was holding on to other’s opinions or how it was affecting me until recently, like two days ago.

It all started with a podcast episode “How To Find Your Calling” by Rachel Hollis. The first ripple in my pond happened when she mentions her struggle with having a lot of anxiety and how it stemmed from trying to please everyone around her.

Everytime I hear someone struggling with anxiety issues I ask, who are you trying to please? – Rachel Hollis

Trying to live for others while being yourself IS like trying to live a double life. There are so many opinions flying around about how women should act, feel, or do in life, that it’s hard to differentiate between your own thoughts and those that’ve been learned.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been told I need to let my Hubs feel like he’s the man in the house and that me being a strong woman will squash his manhood. So I tried for a  to not be so “strong-willed” and it did nothing but make me resent him, even though he wasn’t the one who even said it, the first, second or third time!

He married me, he knows who I am. If he didn’t like an independent woman then he wouldn’t have married one. But I beat myself up for a bit for not being that dainty submissive lady books are written about, who gets saved and everyone protects.

If I could go back I would simply nod and smile, make no comment and not let that idea (because that’s all it is) be stuck to me. Deep down I’m proud of who I am and only I know my relationship with my husband, why would I let someone outside of it influence it? Plus, he’s only ever complimented me for my strength and independent traits.

These opinions aren’t just reserved for marriage. I feel it professionally. I recently was told, “I think you like to try new things but then get bored.”

I’ve been struggling about what I want to be doing in life and have been trying out new ways to make a difference both on and off social media, so this felt like a jab to my abilities to perform and accomplish tasks.

What I took home that night was, you’re a professional floozy, and then yes you guessed it, beat myself up about it for a while because look, look at all these women who are writing books and killing it on social who are making a difference in their follower’s lives. All I’ve done is make a 7 episode podcast I’m not sure I can continue because finding people who were homeless and want to share their story is tough, and I don’t think I want to change my topic.

Letting it consume me and beat me up is again, on me. I have control over my actions and reactions. One of my favorite lines my friend repeats to me is, “you can’t control how people act or how they react to you, you’re not responsible for their emotions or behaviors. You can only control how you act and react.” 

My small ripple quadrupled after Rachel then mentioned how hard it was for her to step down as CEO and hire her husband for the position because she felt a certain pull to be THAT woman who ran her own company and be that example for other young women, until…

Her friend asked her if she actually liked doing any of the roles required under the CEO like budgeting, scheduling, etc. Her answer was no, she’d rather write and create content because that what makes her happy. So now she’s the Creative Cheif instead.

DING DING DING.

Why am I fighting my want to write and be creative? Why don’t I just do it and stop distracting myself with all the other things? Every year I tell myself I’m going to start my word count. Every month I tell myself I want to build my own business, freelance, build my following and grow an email list but have no real plan on how to do it, so I end up getting frazzled and reminding myself that old saying I heard so many years ago about “nobody makes a living by writing” or my favorite “you’re not THAT kind of creative.”

So I drown my wants to write the stuff I want to write and create the content I want to create because of comments from others, how ridiculous, I mean really!

I’ve completely forgotten about the fun part and ps: I already DO make a living out of creating content. I do all the writing for Marconi Automotive Museum, hello!

Basically, if you’re struggling with anxiety…who are you trying to please? Are you living for yourself, or trying to make everyone else around you happy?

Me trying to please everyone and live up to their expectations based off conversations they probably didn’t mean to have such a deep effect on me is true madness. Yeah? Man, I hope someone resonated with this, otherwise, I am crazypants.

Everything you have ever wanted, is sitting on the other side of fear. (2)

Ps: there’s a part two to this story. The real big mic drop came after Rachel begun to speak about this one moment from attending a Tony Robbins growth conference where he asks which parent did you crave love from the most, and who did you have to be in order to get that person’s attention? I’ll catch you guys next week…

Come be my friend on Instagram. I’m hilarious.

You Don’t Need Permission From Anyone (Besides Yourself) To Grieve

Give yourself permission to grieve the loss you feel. You don’t need permission from anyone (besides yourself) to grieve. Do you look for permission to feel sadness? Maybe you don’t even know you’re doing it. I didn’t, until this past Friday.

A few glasses of wine, one frozen pizza, a number of tears, and one Disney themed Kinkade puzzle sesh with the Hubs was my most recent Friday night. It could’ve been an episode on a YouTube channel called #Thisis30 because the conversation was DEEP.

My Mom had called me that morning to tell me she just put Kasey down (our second family pet to pass within the last 6 weeks) and had to talk to someone because she couldn’t tell my siblings yet based off how hard they took Kristy’s sudden passing a few weeks prior.

Now, it could’ve been the wine that helped open the floodgates or it could’ve been all the throwback photos of Kasey my Pops was sending me (or both) that did me in, but nonetheless, the tears poured out while looking for puzzle pieces which resembled the seven dwarves and a Hubs repeatedly reminding me my emotions were valid.

Why didn’t I think what I was feeling was valid? Well, the short answer? Because both of my parents have gone on about how both losses have affected them and my siblings, but not once have asked me how I was handling the news. So…if they haven’t asked me then that must mean I shouldn’t be affected because I live far away and haven’t seen her for a number of years, right?

I beat myself up because I’m sad but don’t feel like it’s justified because if my parents don’t think to ask me how I’m doing then I must be fine and I’m just being dramatic or looking for attention, which is an awful trait to possess and now I’m down the rabbit hole of how awful of a person I am.

It’s exhausting to fight with yourself as hard as I fight with myself, for real.

The real question is why do I need permission from my folks in order to feel justified about grieving my pet? Yes, it’s pretty shitty of them to exclude me from the ‘family grieving’ process but the bottom line is, I don’t need their permission. I give myself permission to give an outward expression to the internal anguish I am feeling.

Did you know that grief is the natural result of love? When we love we open ourselves up to the grief that will come because death is part of life. It’s as natural as a reaction as sneezing when your nose itches or sleeping when you’re tired.

I am sad because Kasey was a part of my life for almost a decade and I loved her, too.

So I won’t feel guilty for being upset. I may not have been around her every day for the last seven years but this isn’t a pissing contest, there aren’t rules to dictate when you may or may not grieve.

Maybe my tears that night were a mixture of grief for my old pet and a lack of with my parents.

There are a number of suggestions on how to celebrate your pet after he/she has passed and one was to plant a tree, scatter some of the ashes in the dirt or place a decorative stepping stone with their name at the base of the tree.

Another suggestion was to share a blog post and some of your favorite photos…

Kasey was an adorable pup who enjoyed carrying your shoe or sock around the house. She didn’t enjoy the hardwood floors and would stick to walking from rug to rug to avoid the hardwood. She slept under my Dad’s coffee table for almost 17 years.

I think what also stings is that I was so close to seeing both dogs again and now I never will. I have a flight in April to come visit and now the house I remember won’t exactly be the same with one German Shepard and one Golden Lab roaming around. I don’t have many familiar people, places, or things, because of all the moving and shuffling so when I do have some sort of comfort with familiarity I tend to hold on to those few and those dogs were my something familiar at home.

Everything you have ever wanted, is sitting on the other side of fear. (1).png

Join my new magic friendship portal (a.k.a email list but that sounds boring) if you’d like to be my virtual penpal. You’re guaranteed good eats, embarrassing truths and a few more takeaways from your friend Ramblin. Sign up here.

Come be my friend on Instagram. I launched a podcast centered around getting to know our homeless youth in hopes to better understand how to stop it by getting to know the young people who survived it. Listen to the very first episode, here

ps: thanks to this article for giving me some lingo.

 

 

 

 

 

What is Happiness?

Kinda feels like I asked you about String Theory, right? It’s a vague question with no real answer because the truth to this question is different for each person reading this sentence. So how do you even begin to answer it?

Typically I’d blow past this question without giving it much thought because this feels like heavy emotion and homie don’t waste time thinking about emotional crap. Except now my bookshelf is filled with true stories of triumph and self-help, growth and empowerment books, so…here we go. What is happiness to you?

“Happiness is many things to many people. It can be lots of small pleasures, a general feeling of contentment or that moment when your heart soars.” The Little Book of Happiness pg.5

Happiness for me feels complicated because even when I go to answer the question, I don’t trust my answer. So I asked my husband, to stall, of course. What is happiness to you? You feel happy when… “I feel happy when…I’m watching a sunset at the beach,” he said.

My natural response to this question is, “I’m happy to have money in the bank to pay the bills and be in a place where I’m not as poor as I once was three, five, ten, and fifteen years ago.” But does making money make me happy? Not really, I could live with way less because I have. Money doesn’t make me happy, it makes me feel secure, which is comforting, but happy? I don’t know.

When I go to fill in my own, “I feel happy when…” the images that pop up in my head do hold emotion and that shit is uncomfortable. For example, I feel happy when…:

  • Reading a good book in a quiet room, snuggled between a puffy white comforter or blanket
  • Playing Rummy with my Hubs on our couch’s ottoman
  • Getting caught in the rain while running with my pups
  • Cooking a good meal for those who appreciate it
  • Any one-on-one time with my Hubs, actually
  • I love new: traveling to a new place, hiking a new trail, or learning something new always makes me happy

Hmm, maybe I’m the ‘lots of small pleasures’ person listed above. And actually, that makes sense, I’m a moment to moment person which is cool to know and acknowledge. This wasn’t too painful of an exercise except for the trying to feel what my happiness is…LOL.

***For the record, please insert 10-15 minutes of quiet time in between each of these paragraphs if you’d like to get the FULL experience of what it was like to write this thing.

Now, take the time to answer the question for yourself. What is happiness to you? You feel happy when____ .

Everything you have ever wanted, is sitting on the other side of fear.

Join my new magic friendship portal (a.k.a email list but that sounds boring) if you’d like to be my virtual penpal. You’re guaranteed good eats, embarrassing truths and a few more takeaways from your friend Ramblin. Sign up here.


Come be my friend on Instagram. I  just launched a podcast centered around getting to know our homeless youth in hopes to better understand how to stop it by getting to know the young people who survived it. Listen to the very first episode, here

Everything Will Be Okay, It Could’ve Been Worse

“Everything will be okay,” and, “It could’ve been worse,” are two of the most deaf-toned responses to someone who has suffered a loss, survived a traumatic experience, or in the midst of a difficult time. What these two phrases do is actually dismiss any of the emotions the person suffering are experiencing.

About three weeks ago my husband was involved in a gnarly accident. A driver decided at the last minute he/she didn’t want to exit and slammed over into my husband’s lane, which fishtailed his truck up an embankment, flipped, and then rolled back down to the freeway exit. The driver who hit him never stopped.

His collarbone is fractured and hasn’t been able to return to work since the accident and won’t be able to for another couple of weeks, at least. It’s been difficult. The Hubs can’t lift his arm up, he’s in pain, he can’t work or do simple things like taking out the trash because it requires two hands to lift the lid and pull.

The air in our apartment is tense at most times because we’re both a little frustrated we don’t know what we didn’t know and we couldn’t know unless we’d experienced it prior. You think you’ve asked all the right questions but if you’re going in blind there’s no real way to know, until you’ve figured it out, which is frustrating and confusing. It’s been one big crash course in health and auto insurance.

It’s frustrating that some faceless no-name driver who caused this pain in our life, won’t be held accountable, because they simply chickened out and left the scene. How does that person even sleep at night? They don’t even know if he survived. Ugh, makes me rage.

Add the holiday season to the mix and currently, in the midst of moving apartments, “you’re going to have a bad time,” as that ski instructor on South Park once noted.

It’s been difficult. I’m grateful I got the phone call I did that night because I understand it could’ve been an entirely different situation, but that doesn’t mean I don’t get to feel frustrated and angry, or tired and upset just because it wasn’t a lot worse.

Two things have surprised me throughout this entire experience. One being how defensive I got when random people noticed my husband’s sling and asked what happened. Mind ya business. Two is how people respond after THEY’VE asked the question.

So how is he doing? Well, he’s in a lot of pain. We’re trying to do our best to keep his movements limited. Yeah? He’s SO lucky it wasn’t any worse.

How are you (me) holding up throughout all of this? It’s kinda sucky. He’s frustrated about constantly asking me for help and I’m frustrated about reminding him to ask for help so he doesn’t further injure it. Everything’s going to be okay. 

Was he able to return to work? No, the doctor wouldn’t clear him because he can’t lift his arm above his head. We’re a little stressed about an extra three weeks off. It could’ve been a lot worse, work won’t let him go. 

Over and over again the same thing, he’s so lucky it wasn’t worse, everything is going to be okay, it could’ve been way worse, over and over and over again. For the record, you don’t know if it’s going to be okay or not, nobody has a crystal ball they can look into and see that in fact everything will be okay. So. Hush it.

I’m a little surprised about how frustrated it made me, like why ask the question if you don’t want the truth? How come when we answer with the truth about our pain and discomfort it makes YOU so uncomfortable you fumble for a response? What if you just said nothing and sat in the suck with us for a moment?

I remember the friends who didn’t try to pull out some positive remarks to help “remind me of the bright side,” or try to give me some crap about life’s lessons. It meant more to me when their response was, “This sucks, I’m sorry. What can I do?”  Even if the answer was nothing, the simple acknowledgment of the suckiness made it feel less sucky, because it does suck and that’s okay.

 

Everything you have ever wanted, is sitting on the other side of fear.

Join my new magic friendship portal (a.k.a email list but that sounds boring) if you’d like to be my virtual penpal. You’re guaranteed good eats, embarrassing truths and a few more takeaways from your friend Ramblin. Sign up here. 


Come be my friend on Instagram. I  just launched a podcast centered around getting to know our homeless youth in hopes to better understand how to stop it by getting to know the young people who survived it. Listen to the very first episode, here

Someone Like You – The One With Dj

It’s Friday, which means another episode of Someone Like You is ready for download. This week is The One With Dj and we meet a young man who has been to hell and back, back again and got back on the wagon.

I’m glad you’re here, especially those who have stuck with me these last three months and have fared my nervous laughter and questionable audio. I appreciate you all SO much. And for those of you who might be new, my name is Shannon and I’m the voice who narrates this show. Someone Like You is about putting a face to the homeless and answering these three questions: Who are the homeless? How did they become homeless? How do we end homelessness?

For the last few months we have been able to meet a new voice who shares their story of survival ever other Friday, and today is a little bittersweet because my guest today is the last interview I have to share for the year. But don’t worry! I’ll be working on getting more interviews next year so I will be back for season 2. Follow me on Instagram @sjrandol to know the second season two airs.

Dj grew up in Highland Park, spent some time in Hollywood and now lives in a sweet apartment next to Staples Center.

He’s working at Trader Joe’s and Bed, Bath & Beyond, AND has prime physical custody of his 18-month old son. He spends his free time getting his little guy familiar with sports and prepping him for pre-school/daycare.

There are nearly 6,000 homeless youth searching for a safe place to sleep each night in the city of Los Angeles and 4.2 million young people will experience a form of homelessness within the next year.

Meet Dj.


Come be my friend on Instagram, I’m on Facebook but I think I play better on IG, lol. I also just launched a podcast centered around getting to know our homeless youth in hopes to better understand how to stop it by getting to know the young people who survived it. Listen to the very first episode, here.  

Glee, Cyndi Lauper, Tears & Why

I found my Glee soundtrack CDs again and had my own little mini concert this morning that took me down memory lane. Just as I was really getting into Cyndi Lauper’s True Colors something clicked and I started to cry, which is really fucking annoying when you’re trying to win a Grammy for best new Karaoke Artist before work.

This whole ‘learn to be vulnerable’ and ‘feel shit’ is cramping my IDGAF attitude. Why did I start therapy again? For a long while, I was able to control my emotions and only show anger or happiness with the notion it would be a cold day in hell before I’d let anyone see me cry.

Well, it’s winter and I’m crying to True Colors at 8 a.m. and now blogging about it for the 1,000 of you to read about. So this must be Hell.

Instead of ignoring the tears, telling myself to suck it the fack up, and beating myself up for getting emotional… I did what Daring Greatly, Braving The Wilderness, and Girl Wash Your Face asks you to ask yourself: why am I getting emotional. Can you identify the why?

So while I continued to belt out the lyrics, and cry, I tried to string together what was running through my head and how it could be related to my now puffy eyes and running nose. And realized I was thinking about my upcoming trip to Florida and how it was going to be strange to possibly see people that know me, who have a history with me and have seen some of my worst days, and how familiar it would all feel.

And how uncomfortable that familiarity felt.

My thoughts also wandered to a family that welcomed me as their own. We had Wednesday night dinners and a no cell phone rule during dinners. They took me in as one of their own and I started to imagine what it would be like to see them all again.

It made me happy and warm to imagine walking into her home again…cue tears.

I chewed on the uncomfortableness with familiarity and why happy and warm would make me weepy…and came to the conclusion this is one of the parts of me I killed off a long time ago in order to protect myself from getting emotionally hurt. Let’s break it down.

Uncomfortableness with familiarity: it’s no secret I spent a lot of time saying goodbye because of the excessive moving from state to state, deployments, and then regular goodbyes of life regarding friendships, and family relationships. I coped and overcompensated by learning to never get attached to one place, person or thing.

Happy and warm: something inside of me enjoyed the idea that I’d be around people who knew me and have known me for a while. It’s been such a long time since I’ve been around familiar faces and places. Florida and this home are nostalgic.

Conclusion: Never getting attached to a place, person or thing made it easier to leave (because undoubtfully I’d be leaving again so why get dependant on a relationship or home that I know won’t last?) with the least amount of emotional turmoil. It let me feel independent from those emotions. Does that make sense?

I got weepy because I let myself feel it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

What Is Emotionally Immature?

What is emotionally immature? Grown-ups are assumed to be more mature than their kids. So is it plausible children can come into the world and within a few years are more emotionally mature than their parents?

Here’s an assessment formulated after years of research. How many of these potentially describe your parent?

  1. My parent often overreacted to relatively minor things.
  2. My parent didn’t express much empathy or emotional awareness.
  3. When it came to emotional closeness and feelings, my parent seemed uncomfortable and didn’t go there.
  4. My parent was often irritated by individual differences or different points of view.
  5. When I was growing up, my parent used me as a confident but wasn’t a confidant for me.
  6. My parent often said and did things without thinking about people’s feelings.
  7. I didn’t get much attention or sympathy from my parent, except maybe when I was really sick.
  8. My parent was inconsistent–sometimes wise, sometimes unreasonable.
  9. If I became upset, my parent either said something superficial and unhelpful or got angry and sarcastic.
  10. Conversations mostly centered on my parent’s interests.
  11. The even polite disagreement could make my parent very defensive.
  12. It was deflating to tell my parent about my successes because it didn’t seem to matter.
  13. Facts and logic were no match for my parent’s opinions.
  14. My parent wasn’t self-reflective and rarely looked at his or her role in a problem.
  15. My parent tended to be a black-and-white thinker, and unreceptive to new ideas.

How many describe one or both parents?

I read that emotional neglect in childhood leads to a painful emotional loneliness and is as real as any physical deprivation. If emotional neglect is detrimental, how come nobody speaks about emotions as a necessity?

My cousin sent me a meme the other day and it read: [in Baby Boomer voice] Kids today are too soft. In MY day we were emotionally abused by our parents and we repressed our trauma so deeply we incorporated that abuse into a toxic system of values that prize a mythological ‘toughness’ at the expense of actually dealing with our pain.

Does this at all resonate with you? if so, maybe think about reading the book I’ve been reading. I cried so hard when I read the first 50 pages, for the first time in a long time I felt like someone understood. I’m going to try and write more about it but for now, it’s too painful. Sharing the questionnaire from the book just in case it helps someone else. 

I think it’s possible children come into this world more emotionally mature than their parents. I know a few.


Cultivate it.

Come be my friend on Instagram, I’m on Facebook but I think I play better on IG, lol. I also just launched a podcast centered around getting to know our homeless youth in hopes to better understand how to stop it by getting to know the young people who survived it. Listen to the very first episode, here.