I have been trying to evaluate things. My life. What’s important to me. Who I am, exactly. I came to a deep reflection today about myself. I’m not living my life. I’m living my life remembering bad things and relating them to experiences in my current life. I don’t see things around me and I bury my head (not literal) so I’m unseen by most. Every person I’ve lost through death, abandonment (or perceived), betrayal, split from church, I’ve had to understand that my deep hurt today hurts like it did back then. Just not as direct. When you hear almost nothing, you learn almost nothing.

I’ve always been bad at math. Aside from the financial bind that college would cost me, I cannot do math. I recently looked up for search results of people who are bad at math. Not because they’re stupid. No, it’s how their brain processes the information.  There is something that can be diagnosed. I have no diagnosis. I wonder.

“Dyscalculia is a learning disorder that affects a person’s ability to do math. Much like dyslexia disrupts areas of the brain related to reading, dyscalculia affects brain areas that handle math- and number-related skills and understanding.”
https://my.clevelandclinic.org/health/diseases/23949-dyscalculia#:~:text=Dyscalculia%20is%20a%20learning%20disorder,number%2Drelated%20skills%20and%20understanding.

I really wonder if that’s me.

I didn’t know how to say goodbye. Not then. And I certainly don’t want to continue to say goodbye. I know it is inevitable for all of us. I didn’t know how to process my emotions. Where was it safe to go?

Every day, I walk in a near constant understanding of my epic failures, I’m well overweight, my kid hates me, I had to walk away from a job due to my mental illness. So, you suck.

At work, on Wednesday, I wrote what I was thinking, poem. Just a tiny bit.

Mirror, mirror…. Go away. No one wants you anyway.

I had to tell my therapist about my writing. I felt awful relating it to him. Letting him see that dark area. I’m letting go or saying goodbye to old programming. I’m trying to wipe the slate somewhat clean. (Even if it’s written in sharpie)

Who am I? What do I want? I’m getting better. I took a bike ride with my husband. Eight miles. Extra stamina to boot. My clothes are fitting better. My mood is… Not consistent. I’m trying to un-bury myself from life. My life. Look around. Observe the non trauma (current) life. Your husband adores you. Still good job. I’m good at it too. My credit score is getting better. I’m learning about my dreams too. Most dreams lately, I’m either lost or late for an important event/class. I’m waiting to be emotionally trampled by life still. So, I operate as if panic should be right around the corner.

My friend Missy sent me a link. I’ll try to share it with you. It’s Mel Robins interviewing Gabor Mate. In this clip, Gabor discusses the relationship from parent to child. Each child born into a family has a different parent. Depending on environmental or other circumstances. Different experiences through the fertile years and their children. Mom and Dad had first kid, maybe more strict. Finances maybe not great at first. Not even living in a home? Maybe apartment? Bad/good relationship. Stressors… Etc etc. My siblings saw different parents than I saw. And because they really weren’t around much when I was a teenager (living out of state, in college, etc), they didn’t see the people I saw. Dianne had died. Mom changed. More depressed, dieting, spoiling me, loving me. My Dad wasn’t involved in my early life. He brought in money and checked out. His enjoyment was generally solitary. And I didn’t know how to engage him. And for many years, my Dad scared me.

When Mom was medically unable to care for me, I lost my identity. I was a happy kind of kid. I had learning delays and a few seizures. Other than that and disliking church… I had great friends. I had people surrounding me. I still couldn’t handle groups. The pressure was too much. And the fear of being judged unfairly? Lived well in my psyche. Actually, still does. I was alone. Denise moved to Oconto, Wisconsin from Ishpeming,Mi. I had to call long distance now. And long distance billed per minute. Now I have to limit how much I can talk to my best friend. And I was lonely. So much. So, in order to feel something other than sadness and despair – I asked my friends to commemorate their visit by writing on my wall. My Dad hated it. I mean, I know now why. Those words on the wall reminded me of love and connection when I was alone with myself and my thoughts.

Saying goodbye is so painful. And sometimes one cannot it will not get there. I couldn’t let go of Dianne. I didn’t know what she thought of me. If she loved me or thought about me in positive ways and why? I wanted to hold onto her. The only way I knew of was through the supernatural vein. Yes, I was reaching. At the time, it helped me hold on. Even if it was silly.

I’ve had to say goodbye to a lot of people. Some haven’t been as pivotal in my life as others. Some, well .. Some have hurt badly. I really never said hello to myself. I want to be acknowledged. I want to be validated. I want desperately to be loved and to love those in my life. I want experiences. I want to observe the world. I want to see parts of the world. And I want to be important. Not just to others, to myself.

Today, after my husband and I got back from biking, I showered, dried off, went upstairs, got stressed and laid on the bed for a good half hour. Thinking very little. Just enjoying the quiet and … The ceiling in my room? I was watching myself, in my life. Not waiting for what’s potentially around the corner. Just being.

On July 5th, 2025, I got a Daith piercing. July 5th, 1988 was when Dianne died. I had to let go then, but now… I’m saying hello to myself. I’m carving out experiences. I’m experiencing happiness in ways I never contemplated. It scares me. This marks a new chapter in my healing journey.

I love being in the moment. The non dangerous, non-confrontational, non judgemental moments. And knowing I’m safe in my home with people and animals that I love?  Man….

So… Here is go. Picture of documenting my piercing. The second is Lake Michigan in Kewaunee, Wisconsin. Paradise is a little down the hill from me.