Saturday, June 18, 2016

I have not written for a little over a year.

Maybe it's because I don't need the journaling any longer. I have returned from time to time to read posts that some others have written on their blogs, but for the most part, I was healing, or moving on, and felt held back by the emotion of the continuity of information I was experiencing.

There was also the blogger who was, in my opinion, feigning, severe illness (other than DID). I reached out to her and discovered she was not honest. It shook my trust in the little community I had been so welcomed into. I became afraid to put myself out there. I worried about you all who were sharing truths.

Having said all that, I still need Shades Of Ivory, the Blog. I still am drawn to come here, to be here, to say here what society does not yet allow me to say anywhere else.

No matter who I become or I do for a living, I will always be Ivory because in my "birth" world, I am a wallflower, the one who doesn't take part, who doesn't speak often, she who was abused and forgotten. In my adopted world, I am the person I've always wanted to be. I have finally realized that the conflict in my life lies within the tiny space of my mind of real and unreal.

And it is in that space/place where Ivory and her Shades were born and where all of them live. They can entertain either side and when they choose to, they can bring me along. It's a matter of acceptance on my part because I am one of them, I am not separate.

I will remain. I am all of me. I will be. I am.


Saturday, April 11, 2015

Rough day

I can't believe how I miss my dad. Today is the first time I've felt bad for missing my mother, but only a little. I'm beginning to understand that maybe I blame her for so much because she was my primary caretaker. My dad was my playmate. There is a big difference.


I think I'm just really lonely. My friend who joins me a couple times a week for a coke is laid up and I've no one else to talk to. I think I'm just jibber-jabbing. Sorry.


Monday, February 16, 2015

Running, and Running, and Just Running

I've gotten very busy in my personal life - which is good, but it also means that I've not had the time to visit my blog.  I've wondered over the years if this would happen if/when I would begin to heal from the trauma of betrayal and subsequent divorce and the overload of memories from my childhood that seemed to have kicked it all into high gear.

I have healed quite a bit from the divorce. Being married for 32 years only to have the man of my life send someone to kill me is pretty much the worst betrayal I could have endured. Obviously, she couldn't do it, kill me, that is, but I was so traumatized by everything that had gone on the three months before then, that I couldn't respond or react appropriately. I let it slide. I actually scooped that act up onto the pile of overwhelming emotional upheaval I was already not being able to deal with and hoped it would go away with everything else.

So here I am, eleven years later and just now beginning to work through it all. I need to have an emotional garage sale, if you will. But, just like the rest of my personal belongings, there is baggage that I cannot seem to let go of. Things like a huge heavy box that contains my daughter's stuffed animals - from when she was an infant. She is now 33 years old. I have a junk drawer that has moved to a plastic tub. Not a big one, it's only six inches tall, but it has stuff in it from twenty years ago. Sometimes, I open that tub and I need to touch some of those things, I need to hold them. I need to feel the comfort they provide that I felt back then - before the betrayal and the memories. It's true: Ignorance is bliss. It's also safe. It's a safe place to be.

My alters, my Colors, are more calm, more quiet. We are nearly back to the way it was before the memories began flooding back and certainly more calm than after my ex declared his affair. I like them this way. They don't interfere, only rear-up occasionally.  I try to keep my life calm, thus keeping them calm. It's the least I can do.

I am alone. I am lonely. It has to be this way - but I am once again happy.

I have only one regret: I should have turned in my ex for whining so much that an ex friend of mine offered to "take me out" (her words) for him - and he told her was so grateful she offered because he just didn't know how he was going to live. Honestly, the idiot makes 6 figures - I had no job, he wanted my little $25,000 401K and my half of the house. I should have turned him in, but I was running.

I've run from the betrayal. I've run from the truth of my ex. I've run from the truth about the awful dysfunction of my family. I'm still running from some of the emotional part of it. I've let go of my brothers and sisters, except one, who has come and apologized. The death of my mother has allowed me to finally mourn my father - I miss him terribly. But hopefully, my healing will continue, if healing is what it is. Coping may be what it is. Or maybe, just maybe, it's that I'm just no longer running and I'm allowing myself to breathe.

Everything is different when I take deep cleansing breath instead of choking down gulps of stagnate air.

I hope everyone is doing okay and I hope you all had a wonderful Valentines Day.


Sunday, August 10, 2014

Ah Ha Moment

A long time ago, in one of my college classes, someone asked the professor what was the difference between Fate and Destiny.

"Fate," she said, "Is something you don't look forward to and are not glad you have it."  "On the other hand, Destiny, is what you can't wait to get to because you know you will love it."

Most of my life has been Fate. What is the phrase, "...the fickle finger of Fate..."? Well, it's been slapping me around most of my life. I've spent many years trying to figure out why my family treats me the way they do. Oh, I know most of it is because THEY are broken and it has nothing to do with me; however, there are some things that I've believed are directly related just to me.

Well, one of those things came to light the other day. During my adulthood, I asked my mother sever times if I was adopted. Not because she treated me so badly, but because I don't look like the rest of them and there must be something about my adoption that upset her. Well, I'm not adopted, my oldest daughter looks a lot like my mother, so that's not it, but it left me wondering - again - just why Mom seemed to hate me and went out of her way to hurt me.

A friend of mine may have discovered the reason.

We were having a Coke and talking and I shared a story about my dad and me when I was very young. Dad often went against my mother's wishes to let me have fun. Dad dressed me up and we went outside in the pouring rain so that I could play in the rain. Mom didn't want me to go out and she didn't let my older brother and sister go out, so it was just Dad and me. We had a blast! 

I guess when I think about it, Mom could very well have been jealous of the relationship I had with Dad. It was so fun and so carefree and it was that way even after I got married. 

Well, it was also very childish of her. She was the adult, she should have behaved better.


Sunday, July 6, 2014

4th of July

Another holiday spent by myself.  I tried to get my daughter to come down, but I knew she wouldn't - even before I asked.  I never even left the house on Friday. No reason to. I stayed downstairs with my small dog because she was afraid of all the noise. We watched TV.

I have spent the 3-day weekend trying to decipher why everyone I know can set personal boundaries and their family and friends still love them, but when I set boundaries, my family (don't have many friends) all turn on me. My boundaries weren't unreasonable.

I just didn't want to be used as their punching bag and I stood my ground when it came to my mother's dying wish. She wanted to go to my brother's house for the few days she had left. The rest of the family tried to go behind our backs and send her to a facility an hour away from most of us. I didn't let it happen. Now, I'm the "bad guy" in our universe. Wasn't invited to our family reunion, until the only brother who talks to me found out, then he made the other one text me an invite. It was a cold, uninviting invitation: Family reunion 7.10.14 city park.

Most of their behavior is in response to how oddly I respond/react to things, including them. They are not like a normal family and then they tell me that I am "odd".  Most families stand behind each other, lift each other up - not mine.

My family is like a dingo dog family. When one of us (mostly me) is weak or damaged, the others immediately attack to kill. I've seen them do it to each other, too. I've been attacked many times trying to stop the fray. If they see a weak spot, like when I cried because my husband left me, they all began to laugh and tell me it was me who ran him off; I had finally done him a favor; Cry Baby! - and so on. They are not nice people.

Actually, I haven't seen them for 2 years. Just talking to my one brother about them left me in a puddle of tears after he left. I cried for 2 days. I don't miss them - I miss what I thought we had because if I'm on their good side - life is fun and good.

I feel like wasted flesh. Like I'm not worth anything and I know that's how they want me to feel. But that IS how I feel, I just hide it from them. I'm such a blob of conflicting emotions. I can't wait for tomorrow so I can go to work. I'm who I want to be there. Not the person I really am, here.

Hope you all had a good holiday.


Sunday, February 9, 2014

Normal Isn't Really There

Well, "normal" didn't last too long.

I can't get over the feeling of such loss. I lost my mother a year ago last December. Along with her, I lost the whole family that I grew up with, it seems. I keep reading all the self talk stuff, but it's only that, talk.

There have been a few enlightening bits of information, tho. Just yesterday, I heard something on Pinterest (huge fan)  about it being the feeling of what used to be and not the people that I'm missing. That's true. So - very - true. But emptiness feels the same, no matter where it is generated from.

I still have my daughters. But they have their lives and I rarely hear from them. I feel so alone.


I'm watching the Beatles special and loving it -- and realizing how much of my life has been wasted or lost, or whatever. I also realize I'm depressed. Not in a good place. Haven't been for a very long time.

Seriously, I watched The Last Unicorn this afternoon and I cried all the way through it. Gosh, but what I realized is that I want so much for someone to care about me THAT way - and no one ever will. I wasted my life loving a man THAT way and he didn't care at all about me. What a fool. What a stupid, stupid fool.