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Drive Your Ex Nuts and Improve Your Position for Court at the Same Time

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So far, so… so-so.

April 7, 2017 2 comments

It was a LONG dark winter. My back went wayyy out. My older kitty died, horribly, at home before the vet appointment. (I think she had a stroke when her “brother” attacked her, I guess because she was sick. She became paralyzed and died slowly. It was horrible. I still cry, I still feel guilty. I should have noticed sooner she was not just getting old, she was sick.) She no longer came for her daily chin scratching orgies. She slept a lot, and hid. Then, one night, I realized she was horribly thin. (She had a ton of fur.) I could feel every bone in her back. I called the vet. Too late.

Add in literally months of cold and dark… and I did not fare well. Add in the election and it got serious. I had palpitations. I did not want to see my Trump voting neighbors, or dress up for the community parties I have been to every other year I’ve lived here. I stayed home. I ate foods I REALLY did not need.

I did’t smile. I didn’t laugh. I still get seriously irritated with the Facebook posts of the “everything is wonderful” crowd. (I’m still not down with that zeitgeist, but I’m slowly coming back to life.) Today my ONLY read fried in these parts posted on of those “everything is a choice” memes. I was pissed. You know, it is true–TO A DEGREE. But to those who carry deep trauma, the scars limit  how much “choice” you have in how you feel. Finally now that I am 60freaking 8 , there is a ton of science on that. For example: http://www.rawhide.org/blog/wellness/aces-child-trauma/?gclid=Cj0KEQjwzpfHBRC1iIaL78Ol-eIBEiQAdZPVKlxlxrRVj_nP3LXIKu4BDdwkBxiZMYbWnJueFn3fLAkaAqs58P8HAQ and  http://www.academia.edu/22177086/Awareness_during_anesthesia_and_posttraumatic_stress_disorder

My grandparents cane from Russia. Trust me, trauma is deep in the Russian soul. Deep in the Russian Jewish soul. And yes, I managed to have my very own personal deep trauma, ironically, by no one’s intention. I had my ears lanced, and the doctor apparently gave me just enough anesthesia to keep me immobile. Clearly I was “aware”– I was told I had been “crying out in pain” throughout the procedure (done in an office, not a hospital.) it was the 50s. No one knew better. (I left my body, and not in a good way.)

My mother was never loved or nurtured– so, despite her clear awareness I was suffering…neither was I.  As fate would have it, her father was (also) an EENT doc- so she said nothing to the guy torturing me. I get it. No one meant to mess me up.  But… they did. (There’s a lot more,  but enough is a enough…

I have made HUGE mental choices and come a long way. But the body remembers. So, I think I defaulted to “nothing is OK” again during the bad patch. Now, I am climbing out of that hole. Whew.

I try to use what I’ve learned in my law practice, but most people are not open to owning their own “stuff.” I do still attract people like those  grew up around– narcissists and the odd sociopath. I now shut don the sociopaths, but the narcissist can be very charming, and I do still fall for it, from time to time. (At least now I charge more appropriate fees.)

But these are chaotic times. Times of gaslighting by the president, when compassion is no fashionable. It will be interesting to see how what I have learned will play out.  Thriving in the midst of chaos. We shall see.