Tag Archives: codependence

New Moon Ceremony


Last night I conducted a rebirthing spell; considering all the work I’ve done towards healing it felt appropriate to do so – acknowledge the insights I’ve gained, what’s being cast aside, and where I’m going…. At least, where I hope I’m going. 

Closing the ceremony it was a little difficult to ground my energy, but I knew my spell was a success and I’d done the right thing. The moon in Scorpio was perfect timing too. I fell asleep to a loving kindness meditation and felt a sense of peace and release. 


My kiddo got an awesome load of candy and treats this year! Bubble wand, chips, popcorn, full size snickers bar – the works! I was so proud of him too because he was able to tell me when he was all done trick – or – treating. There were a good 15 houses we passed up along the way home, and that’s okay. He was able to tell me when he was done, and other than 2 houses, we walked back home (yeah, I should have just kept going, but I wanted to make sure he got enough candy). He filled his Lego bucket 2/3’s of the way full. Silly boy wanted to go in every house and attempt to use their bathroom (showing that he remembers last year), but the answer was no. 😛 

That’s the one thing I shouldn’t take advantage of… His memory. I remember very little before the age of 6-8, as I consider this time to be the most crucial turning point in my life… He remembers though. He remembers. 

I have a doctors appointment in a little while to keep up to date with my meds; must remember to get a doctors note for work so I can keep a water bottle on me at all times. Dry mouth from my meds suck. More meditation, reading, and hard work later today. 

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The Chasm Exands


Working out of the “love yourself, heal your life” workbook, I feel that chasm again… The expanding of my chest to create space, but the more I feel that space the more I recognize what currently fills that space, and the longing that it calls for. It calls for me to love myself, but also confronts me with the messages I told myself growing up because they wee instilled within me. “Do you deserve to live?” “What are your beliefs?” I’m confronted with just how much “otherness” I live my life by… In church I was told to live for Christ by doing his deeds for others… As a kid I was starved for affection and always worked hard to meet other people’s needs… The moment I ask myself what my beliefs are I’m struck with how much my beliefs were based on making an impact on me but on others. For example if I say “I believe everyone deserves to be treated with respect, I have to take ownership at some point in time and ask myself “do you treat yourself with respect? If so how? If not, why? What’s the emotional impact?”

Finally the stagnancy is breaking as I move forward with this next chapter of healing, but this chasm… This swelling inside me… It’s like a whirlpool surrounded by rocky clods and boulders along some exotic ocean… Odd that it’s such a beautiful place but all I see is terror swirling round and around in those waters. 

Likewise, the girl at the bottom of the well no longer has that dark red and purple aura surrounding her, and light now shines in the well… She smiles at me. I’m not as afraid of her as I once was, but I’ll make my way in soon… Or perhaps, she’ll find her strength and make her way out. Who knows….

You’re Not Being Abandoned


To My Younger Self,

The one whose wounded…

The one whose scarred…

The one who’s afraid you’re going to be unloved the whole of your life…

It’s okay. I’m working on us. They aren’t your parents, they aren’t your family, and it’s my job to heal your wounds and let you know that. 

I’m sorry you hurt every time they walk out. I’m sorry it feels like they’re sneaking around you – I promise you they’re not.

Things are getting better, one day at a time, one step at a time. You don’t need to hate yourself for feeling wounded. It’s not your fault you were abandoned and abused. It’s not your fault. It never was and it never will be. 

It’s okay to feel this. You need too. You feel left out because I locked you out, and it hurts every time you see that door… Afraid you’re being locked out, afraid they’re gonna walk out… But you know what? Let them. They have their own lives, and we have our own to work on. We can have fun too. We can talk too. We can be meaningful and do meaningful things. You don’t need their light because it’s only going to mislead you; we need to find our own light and let it shine. 

It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m not a child anymore, and you’re now a grown-up… So to my inner child, the one who feels stung, bruised, slapped, kicked, and abandoned… Please… You’re okay. It’s okay. We’re okay. 

Just grieve…

Be that lighthouse. 

Become one within me. 

Breathe. 

Controlling others won’t heal your loss, but grieving will. 

Breathe…. Just breathe. 

Practicing Loving Kindness

I need to remember everyone is struggling with something, and not just struggling, but deeply.


With this context, I can (hopefully) reduce some of the internal tension I feel when doing the loving kindness mantra. I feel the positive energy when I send it to all beings, and its strongest at that point; I wish I could feel that same energy towards myself. 

It’s supposed to rain in a little while, so a ritual bath to clean my energies and collecting rain water for spell casting should be in order, and I’ve cleaned up my room for the most part to provide comfort, concentration, and space for my room. Selenite… I should use that too since I connect with that stone the most. 


I’m starting to feel depressed and I’m not sure why… Anxious too. 

*sigh* despite everything, I know I’m heading in the right direction. It’s just tough. I need to put messages into myself to counterbalance all the material I read on codependency; thank god for Louise L Hay materials…

A Slave to Control


I’m either an enabler who can’t say anything or a control freak for opening my mouth – that’s how I feel. I feel trapped over the stupidest shit, and in the end I know it’s because I use control to prevent anger outbursts because that’s the defective wall I hide behind versus saying I’m vulnerable, but where’s the room for me to say that in this situation?

It was shaming, blaming, and “no I’m not willing to talk about this” crap. I’m trying to turn it inward and ask myself where the panic comes from, where the emotions come from, and all I know is that my fear of being controlling starts with my mom from raising her children and needing to maintain the household (effectively losing my childhood), and my fear of not being able to speak up and therefor give in to enabling comes from living with my dad. He was so micromanaging that if I spoke up I’d be punished, so shut the fuck up and get it done. I’d ask him why something needs to be done and the answer was to get in my face and retort “because I said so.”

I hate myself for feeling so unbalanced, for feeling the need for control beyond a healthy limit – it mirrors codependency so damn much…. Then the moment I meditate I lose the ability to process the emotion. I do practice “rain” and attempt to re-parent my inner child by talking to my emotions as the were their own entity because in a very real way they are; each emotion is an isolation, a frozen state of time that I haven’t processed. Sadness is my early childhood, anger is my preteen/teen years, and somewhere between they evolve. Touching those emotions is touching a fragment of time and I’m shocked – it’s been 10 years since I’ve lived in a state of obsession under my parents roof, recalling every wrong, replaying every detail, and I walked away from it because I figured out it was hurting me more than it was helping, but damn… This would have been easier to deal with 10 years ago….

I’m speechless within myself, unable to conclude where to end this inner dialogue… Something feels so incomplete and I don’t know what it is.

Trust the Process

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I wonder… At the bottom of the well… Is she the pieces of me everyone told me not to be? Is this why I fear her? Is this why I hate her? They’re the pieces of me everyone shamed as flawed and bad and ugly and worthless and immature and insecure and less than, and in turn I blamed her and shoved her and locked her away…

I fear my inner child. I genuinely look upon her as a disfigured, black, ugly, oozing demon… but shes a child…

She isn’t me…. is she?

I’ve dug as far as I can for today – I MUST dedicate the rest of the evening to self-care, fun, and laughter…. thank god I have my laptop back with gaming to enjoy…

“Courage transforms the emotional structure of our being. This change often brings a deep sense of loss. During the process of rising, we sometimes find ourselves homesick for a place that no longer exists. We want to go back to that moment before we walked into the arena, but there’s nowhere to go back to. What makes this more difficult is that now we have a new level of awareness about what it means to be brave. We can’t fake it anymore. We now know when we’re showing up and when we’re hiding out, when we are living our values and when we are not.”

~Brené Brown

Beauty Towards the Bottom of the Well

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After my coffee shop venture this morning I swing by wild mind meditation shop to see if they had anything available I could use to connect with my grief… Found out about this amazing meditation app that you can use and see who’s meditating anywhere in the world – beautiful. Still, I didn’t get what I was after…

i knew I wanted to grieve, but I know I didn’t want to be home… For whatever reason it just didn’t feel safe enough; most likely anxiety triggers in the home, or too many things to distract myself with, I don’t know. I was so ready for tears this morning but then I tried my best and couldn’t do it. I went to a cemetery in town where the river runs right up against it.. It was stunning, and the concept of mirroring came into play for just a while.

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I sat by the water and cracked open the book I immediately felt drawn too from the library called “Healing Through the Shadow of Loss.” It was perfect because it was a general sense of the ways we grieve and the the wisdom contained therein, versus the “someone has just died” grieving; I so needed this. I needed to read this book. It’s small enough that I finished it in one day, but sooooo many pieces of my life I was able to connect with towards my journey of growth and healing.

We grieve only that which we have loved, and the transient nature of life makes love and loss intimate companions.

This.. This made me connect to myself in a way I hadn’t done in years… The logic follows that if I need to grieve on behalf of so much pain and loss I’ve endured, then I must have loved myself at some point in time… Which means I’m worth the struggle. That’s a huge breakthrough for me.. It brings me closer to the edge of tears, but not enough to throw myself from the edge of the precipice towards the ocean below… But at least I’m more prepared.

When we have other losses in our life that we haven’t addressed, our grieving process can be contaminated; become an observer of your experiences without judgement – this is known as witnessing your state of concsiousness

I always referred to it as being a 3rd party observer, but it’s something I’ve been in touch with lately. This clarifies so much in terms of how I’m supposed to grieve with boundaries for myself to protect myself from falling too far down the rabbit hole.

When we are overwhelmed, it is difficult to think clearly or hear what is being said to us. We are lost and at the mercy of our environment. Healing asks us to be present, concsious, and aware. By paying attention to the little losses inherent in each day, we come to be more in tune with our responses to life’s bigger losses. As Gloria Vanderbilt said – each loss somehow echoes that first loss, the one we know so well. Something falls into place, so familiar it’s almost a relief.

When I read this I came to understand my panic attacks that surround change; when change arises I’m unable initially to handle it because I don’t know how to handle grief… I’ve been severed from it. Looking back I remember people telling me “just get over it” and “stop feeling sorry for yourself.” I wasn’t feeling sorry for myself, I was a child in mourning who didn’t know how to handle the complexity of emotions I was facing – thrust from the innocence of childhood into the world of adulthood with no guide to show me how, and only the rouse of religion to create a false anchor of stability within me. It was another moment where a piece of the puzzle in my life fell into place – something I’d never connected with before. I’m proud of my insight.

Healing is spiritual, curing is medical. Healing is an active process; we must participate in our own healing process. Healing is a gift we give ourselves in the moment we decide to stay open to that which has broken us. “To heal” comes from the words “to be whole”, a etymological root derived from the belief that when we become sick, we loose our wholeness; healing includes integrating the brokenness back into ourselves to be whole.

Gried has become something so beautiful to me… We are born with grief from birth the moment we leave the safety of our mothers womb, a place what was nothing but safe and secure, and we were thrust out of it. Children it seems cry when they are born because the first thing they come to experience is loss… No wonder the first thing we do is hold them and nurture them. We are promoting healing as the first step towards our journey in life…

This too makes me sad. My mother would tell me how she felt robbed with me when I was born because she wasn’t properly medicated and felt the blade of the c-section as I was born, and fainted from the pain, losing the first few hours I was born.

Speaking of my mother, I sat with the concept of “ghosting” – when you block off all communication with someone and walk away… It’s amazing how I never feel grief in those situations… Except for when I was the victim of it; don’t get me wrong, my dad was known to pull the silent treatment when I was a child (which I now know is a wall that’s used as a defense mechanism and not a healthy coping skill), but the silent treatment and ghosting aren’t exactly the same… No, there’s only 1 man that ever left me so devastated with that move, and I learned it from him. We use it as a way of separating ourselves from an emotion we find painful and threatening – remove the person and you cut off the danger from the emotions that are trying to surface. I never grieve when I cut someone out and it feels like I should… That’s basically my moms family right there. :-/ I don’t know how to even approach it because my fear is that I’ll want to run back to them but I can’t… I just can’t do that anymore. I can’t change them, and I’m not strong enough to deal with their dysfunction, nor do I want my son exposed to it; hell, she’s such a bitch she wants to change my son by “curing his Autisim” through bullshit homeopathic remedies like swallowing ocean water (which will kill you) and tons of pills to “remove the toxic metals from his brain that the vaccinations caused.” She is by no means a safe person to be near my son, and I’m glad she can’t call herself “grandma” – on her end it shows she’s not identified herself as a grandmother, and on my end it means there’s no real connection to feel guilty over severing. What kind of grandmother seeks to change her grandson to feel better about herself? More importantly, in what ways did my mother change me to do the same… Shit. I never even thought to ask myself that question till just now. This makes me sad… But sadness is good. This means I’m taking another step forward in the right direction.

I was drawn to think of grief in the context of culture, and as pro-Christian-male-dominate-white-America, we have no culture of grieving. We don’t honor the dead by welcoming the pain as part of our lives and working through it – we cast it aside and tell people after 2 weeks to go back to work and get over it. Being the creative type that I am, I want to make an urn.. A grieving urn, and every time I grieve I write about it, and keep it in the urn until I’m able to burn the pages through my own ritual that I create… And I want the urn to have holes in the side that represent how we can’t keep it all perfectly jarred up; tears, like water, needs to flow from a vessel. If grief is the container, then that container holds loss and all its experiences. If only we weren’t conditioned to shame grief as a bad thing…

The sufi poet Rumi said: Be the thirst searching for water. What would it take to be loss searching for grief

I left the cemetery after connecting with the tombs that bare my last name, and noticed how they had become lost and forgotten to time… No one leaves them offerings every year. I fear that’ll be me someday… A tombstone that says Simpson with no one to care about me enough to pay their respects.

I went home and tried again to cry… Read some more, put on the moving art series from Netflix, and tried to connect within myself… Whenever I tell myself “it’s okay. I need to grieve. I want to grieve.” I get so close to the edge of tears but don’t make the leap… I need to though. In the end I trust the process I’m on, and know I’m doing what’s best for me. I’m getting there. I’m growing. I’m learning to love… I have faith it’s going to be okay.

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To Decompress

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I called out of work and said “fuck it, I need a day off.” Considering I had a 3 day weekend I shouldn’t need time off like this, but I need to make joy my priority today. I still carry around my therapy books like a good little Christian soldier ready to heal the masses but this time, I’m here to heal myself. I’m so burnt out… So exhausted… But in the end I’m finally proving to myself and myself alone that I am strong and able to handle this, and in acknowledging that……. *sigh*.

I don’t want this to be about arrogance through faulty levels of pride, I want this to be an authentic pride that’s more gentle in nature… A tree that has its roots buried in the unconscious, pulling its nutrients to the surface and allowing the light from above to help bloom from within.

Gentle; learn to be gentle with myself. I should really… There’s that word again – should. *sigh* it doesn’t exist. Maybe through grieving I can connect with that sorrow that begs for gentleness and nurturance. I want to be strong… And I need to be vulnerable. Strength has always been a wall to shield vulnerability so… I need to find a way to balance this – strong & gentle. Have I always followed such a masculine message of strength that casts aside gentleness as a form of weakness? I don’t think I’ve really registered this before.

Theres beauty to be found in all of this; a beauty to be found in me…. One step at a time.

its nice to have some time in a coffee shop to think, feel, observe, and become. There’s a baby girl about 8 months old to the right and she is gorgeous… I need to connect with that inner child – my inner child. In my therapy session a few years back I was doing eyes closed therapy… And I found her in my minds eye… A small girl hugging her knees to her chest, dirty face to contrast her genteel complexion mixed with the stain of tears and tattered clothing… She’s been down there for so long… My whole life it feels as if she’s been down there. I looked at her at the bottom of the well – a purple and red haze of glowing light surrounded her but didn’t touch her… I was so terrified. I balled my eyes out for days knowing I was that child trapped at the bottom of a well, it was my inner child I locked up and kept out of reach, and I’ve carried guilt about it since then because I ran away from her… I abandoned her… I was terrified of this small child and I don’t know why. I hated her. I hated her and I don’t know why… And gently she sobs. Only now that I’m connecting with that pain can I connect with her… And gently I sob.

Im in the part of my book that discusses the difference between a child raised in a healthy home and what abuse does to a child… I’m fighting myself to read it; on the one hand reading about functional children feels useless, but on the other hand, it’s helping me to connect with the pain… How I should have been raised… To affirm for myself that how I was treated as a child was not okay.

I need this. The masochist within me commands it – I need to heal,  I need to get through this, I’m desperate to get through this. Soul cleansing waters of salvation is on the other side and for once it’s not dictated or predetermined who I am after or what I’m in for… I have no idea what it’ll look like when I’m done… Those waters… Those are tears.

I don’t want to see my therapist grieve for me again. I remember sharing some personal perspective I have of myself and she started to weep… And then I started to weep. “What are you connecting with, carol?” “You’re crying… You’re crying and I don’t know why. You’re crying and it makes me feel as if you understand something that I don’t and it makes me sad…” I felt as if it was something about the healing process, the journey, or perhaps she was grieving because she could see how amazing I am when I cannot, or perhaps she’s experienced what I’m going through and she needed to connect with that pain too… It was empathy. It wasn’t pitty. The moment was too intense and too unified.

i don’t know…

i need to greive…

i need to cry…

i need to connect with that pain and reach that hurdle. I don’t know how or why but freedom will be found in those tears – I just know it… If only I wasn’t in a coffee shop trying to stuff it all down like I normally do.

im on the right path… I just need to trust the process. For now a little bit of shopping to cheer my spirits will be nice, then the library… Perhaps it’s time to greive, and I need to give myself permission to do that…