Favoritism Hurts, Please Stop

I am beyond brokenhearted rn. How some people can treat their own children absolutely blows my mind!💔😤😠
It’s one thing to have a split or blended family, it’s another thing, entirely, to treat them like they don’t quite fit in.😠😡🤬 But, to intentionally exclude a child from his own family vacation to
Disney World! —-and then, let him in on the “secret” weeks afterward, boasting that the Disney trip had actually been a gift to his brother for his 11th b’day!😡😡😤😤🤬🤬 💔😥
My son was tearful as he told me this. The sadness he feels is amplified in my heart 10000×!
How could his OWN (only living, biological) grandma and grandpa choose to leave our son out?😢 We have 2 sons!!! Not 1! Two!
……And their father! 🤬🤬🤬 How could he be so unfair to his son??? I appalled, crushed, and pissed!!!
I will NEVER EVER understand how a parent or grandparent can play “favorites” like that! SMDH!!
Don’t they realize the damage they are causing to the child being left out??? These kids are HURTING inside! They are NOT stupid! They SEE the difference that is made between them and the “favorite” child(ren).
They notice the amount of gifts under the tree with their name on them. They notice who, all-of-a-sudden fell terribly ill, and can’t make it to their birthday party, yet the very next day, take Mary’s child to the McDonalds play-place for lunch!
They F-ING notice!!! THEY ARE NOT STUPID!!! We, their mothers, their advocates, their shoulder to cry on; are drying our own tears as were explaining to them how YOU DO love them, YOU’RE just “busy”,..again!😠
They start to feel as if they are not good enough, that they are not smart enough, that they are not worthy of your love…. They recant, over and over, what they could have possibly done wrong. SAD! SAD! SAD!😭
They also begin to blame themselves…. they think that maybe if they’d behaved better at the store with grandma, the ONE time she took them, she would come visit more.
Let me tell you something…..
I will NOT allow this bs to continue to emotionally damage my child! I refuse to lie for you to spare my children the heartache! I will gently and lovingly explain to them what a sorry person(people) you are.💩 I will help my child to rise above the heartache and promote emotional strength within him!💪🏼👍🏼👊🏻😒💖
I will teach my children the skills they need to protect their tender, innocent, loving hearts from people like you. I will not allow you to embed your unfair, selfish acts upon my sons happy, childhood memories. I will NEVER EVER, EVER let ANYONE make my child feel unworthy or ignored!‼
NO ONE with half-ass intentions deserves, the privilege, of a role in my childrens lives. It’s YOU who’ll miss out in the long run.🖤
STEP-UP OR STEP OUT, the choice is yours.

💔 Found this! 👇🏼👇🏼😥😢😥😭😭
2, yes 2 of those children are mine and his. It may not be so obvious who’s the very “favorite” here, BUT, it is ABSOLUTELY OBVIOUS that, my precious guy, is NOT. His (full-blood)brother is lying on the back of the couch.
This pic was taken on Christmas Day in 2017. 😢😢😢(at his dads parents home)💔💔
My baby…he looks so sad, while all the other grandchildren are beaming!!! IT’S CHRISTMAS DAY! He should be elated! But,… he’s NOT! 💔😡
This picture speaks volumes about the emotional turmoil “favoritism” causes!!!
😡🐻😡🐻😡🐻😡🐻😡🐻😡🐻😡

IF you hug one of them,

Hug ALL of them.
If you miss one of them,
Miss ALL of them.
If you bake cookies with one of them,
Bake with ALL of them.
If you celebrate her/his birthday,
Celebrate ALL their birthdays.
If you “treat” one of them,
“Treat” ALL of them.
If you love one of them,
Love ALL OF THEM!❤💞

👨‍👩👱‍♀👧🏼👨🏾👦👶🏿🧒🏾👨‍👩‍
PLEASE QUIT PLAYING “FAVORITES”

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Depressing Diagnosis

After my dx, I pretty much became an alcoholic! I was so relieved to finally know that I had a disorder, and that I wasn’t just a complete failure at life!! But I quickly spiralled into a depression bc I realized that my ADHD was never gonna go away, that I was never gonna be a productive part of society! That I was forever gonna be just a walking collection of symptoms!! That I was never gonna get that Bachelors degree, never gonna have a real career, never gonna get a fair shot at success bc I am NOT and NEVER gonna be “normal”!
Life is better now though! I embrace my ADHD dx. I have accepted the fact that I am a hunter in a gatherers world. Learned to love myself, just as I am.❤. After all, what other choice do we have??

The Story Of A Girl

I think I have finally figured out what is wrong with me; not just the ADHD, not just the mild depression symptoms, not even the occasional bout with anxiety, but what is really wrong with me. I believe I have found the reasons for WHY I behave the way I do, WHY I feel the way I do, even WHY I struggle the way I do. Because isn’t that all we really want; an explanation for our shortcomings, a reason for our bad behavior, or maybe just somewhere to place blame. Regardless, an explanation is long overdue. And digging deep into my past, I just may have found one!

Inconsistent doesn’t even begin to describe my up-bringing. To say that I had NO idea what I was walking into, on a daily basis, would be an understatement! Don’t get me wrong; I grew up in a clean, calm, financially sound environment. And everything tangible was good; plenty of food in the fridge, a new car to ride in, and all the playthings I could ever ask for… BUT, emotionally, I was completely and absolutely neglected. At pivotal points in my childhood, where caring, understanding, an nurturing should have been ever-present, I faced loneliness, heartache, and fear. When I was a very young girl, about 3 or 4, I remember all I ever wanted her to do was wake up. My fragile mind just couldn’t understand why she wasn’t like other moms. I couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t stay awake for me, I spent my days watching her sleep, and wondering why I wasn’t important enough to her… Deep feelings of loneliness, fear and insecurities began to develop. Extreme bouts of sadness and crying spells became who I was; an innocent, yet very damaged child. I had no one else to care for me, as my only siblings were much, much older. My father was always gone on business trips, or on a golf outing. As an adult, I realize what he was running from.

Believe me, there were good days, and this is where the inconsistencies really show up. On good days, mom was awake. I’d walk in the door from grammar school and there she’d be, awake, alert and wonderful. The mom I always wanted, we’d talk and laugh and go to the local 5 and dime store. I really cherished the good days and I looked forward to them as they were few and far between. Most days, though, she was in her own world. Her escape from reality was a comfort for her, I suppose. And it wasn’t until I was an adult, that I realized her sleepiness was due to benzodiazipine abuse. When she’d use, she’d pass out, and I’d be left all alone. Fear and emotional neglect is what I faced, constantly. I craved companionship with her, I just wanted her to wake up! As she’d snooze, I’d practice taking her earrings in and out of her ears, she wouldn’t even stir. Those were the days when I’d be locked out of the house, crying on the back porch, because she couldn’t hear me knocking. Those were the days when the prescription of pills would run out, now the only way she can cope is to drink. The thing is…. what couldn’t she cope with? In my childs’ mind I knew it must be my fault. Maybe if i could be a really, really good girl, I’d be worth staying awake for. No such luck, her addiction to alcohol and benzos spanned her whole lifetime; absolutely and definitely affecting mine.

Some days, however, she wasn’t there at all. You see, years and years (even before I was born), of benzodiazapine abuse, had caused irreversible damage to my mothers intestines, and every 4-6 weeks she’d be in the hospital for 5 or so days. It was horrible! Those were the days when I’d come home from school and my older sister would be there at my house waiting for me. As, soon as I’d see her, I’d instantaneously feel my throat close up and my eyes start to tear. I just knew her presence meant that my mom was in the hospital, again and that I’d be staying at her house. Even now, it’s hard for me to describe the feelings I had when she was gone. Neglectful, or not, she was my beloved mommy and she was my world. I would be completely devastated each and every time her health drove her to hospitalization and I had to stay at my sisters house. I would sit for hours, just inside the threshold of her house, with my heavy, winter coat on. I would refuse to take it off cause then that would mean that I was comfortable with staying there, and I absolutely was NOT. The feelings were mutual, I was nothing more than an inconvenience to my sister and her new family. That was evident in the was I was treated. I was a little girl, whose mom was in the hospital. Did I get hugged, held and reassured? Um, no. In fact, I was teased and ridiculed. My feelings were never validated, just brushed off like I was a bratty, crybaby. And so I hoped, in my little head, that if I kept my coat on, I’d be going home soon. My coat and my belongings became my only link to my home and my mom, so I guarded them, viciously. All I wanted was my mommy, and I cried for her relentlessly.

wp-image-772939006

So, in considering all this trauma, and very deep seeded emotional damage, I’ve come to the conclusion that I am incapable of deep, bonded, long lasting relationships. I am forever in self-protect mode. My heart was broken long before I even understood what love was. I was broken, emotionally, by those who were supposed to love me the most. What exactly does that do to a person you ask? Well, it breeds a fear of intimacy, it causes an intense craving for attention and validation, it harbors insecurity, and it destroys any feeling of self worth. How could my only mother intentionally sleep through my entire childhood, and be so oblivious to the pain she was causing her little girl? Why didn’t anyone see what was going on? Why wasn’t I worth more? Why is that the hand life dealt me? Why didn’t you save me? Why didn’t you love me enough?

I could ask questions all day and it doesn’t matter now, the damage has been done. I’m just sorry to all the wonderful people in my life who have tried to love me, yet got nothing in return. My heart is buried somewhere inside me, I don’t wear it on my sleeve. It was broken a long, long time ago and I don’t know if it will ever be whole again. Those who reared me, failed me. I cry for the little girl inside me, and I protect her with all that I am because no one else did.

I never learned how to love, how to show love. A hug, to you, may feel like a warm, loving, reassuring embrace. To me, a hug is an uncomfortable invasion of personal space. Sad, isn’t it? This comes from an adult that wasn’t loved on or hugged as a child. This also comes from an adult that is tired of all the failed relationships in her life and tired of not feeling worthy. I have learned to live in self-protect mode, and that is a very shallow existence. It’s a very lonely place to be. Thanks for your interest. God Bless!

The Story Of A Girl

I think I have finally figured out what is wrong with me;  not just the ADHD, not just the mild depression symptoms, not even the occasional bout with anxiety, but what is really wrong with me.  I believe I have found the reasons for WHY I behave the way I do, WHY I feel the way I do, even WHY I struggle the way I do.  Because isn’t that all we really want;  an explanation for our shortcomings, a reason for our bad behavior, or maybe just somewhere to place blame.  Regardless, an explanation is long overdue.  And digging deep into my past, I just may have found one!

Inconsistent doesn’t even begin to describe my up-bringing.  To say that I had NO idea what I was walking into, on a daily basis, would be an understatement!  Don’t get me wrong;  I grew up in a clean, calm, financially sound environment. And everything tangible was good;  plenty of food in the fridge, a new car to ride in, and all the playthings I could ever ask for… BUT, emotionally, I was completely and absolutely neglected.  At pivotal points in my childhood, where caring, understanding, an nurturing should have been ever-present, I faced loneliness, heartache, and fear.  When I was a  very young girl, about 3 or 4,  I remember all I ever wanted her to do was wake up.  My fragile mind just couldn’t understand why she wasn’t like other moms.  I couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t stay awake for me, I spent my days watching her sleep, and wondering why I wasn’t important enough to her… Deep feelings of loneliness, fear and insecurities began to develop.  Extreme bouts of sadness and crying spells became who I was;  an innocent, yet very damaged child.   I had no one else to care for me, as my only siblings were much, much older.   My father was always gone on business trips, or on a golf outing.  As an adult, I realize what he was running from.

Believe me, there were good days, and this is where the inconsistencies really show up.  On good days, mom was awake.  I’d walk in the door from grammar school and there she’d be, awake, alert and wonderful.  The mom I always wanted, we’d talk and laugh and go to the local 5 and dime store.  I really cherished the good days and I  looked forward to them as they were few and far between.  Most days, though, she was in her own world.  Her escape from reality was a comfort for her, I suppose.  And it wasn’t until I was an adult, that I realized her sleepiness was due to benzodiazipine abuse.  When she’d use, she’d  pass out, and I’d be left all alone.  Fear and emotional neglect is what I faced, constantly.  I craved companionship with her, I just wanted her to wake up!  As she’d snooze, I’d practice taking her earrings in and out of her ears, she wouldn’t even stir.  Those were the days when I’d be locked out of the house, crying on the back porch, because she couldn’t hear me knocking.  Those were the days when the prescription of pills would run out, now the only way she can cope is to drink.  The thing is…. what couldn’t she cope with?  In my childs’ mind I knew it must be my fault.  Maybe if i could be a really, really good girlI’d be worth staying awake for.  No such luck, her addiction to alcohol and benzos spanned her whole lifetime; absolutely and definitely affecting mine.

Some days, however, she wasn’t there at all. You see, years and years (even before I was born) had caused irreversible damage to my mothers intestines, and every 4-6 weeks she’d be in the hospital for 5 or so days.  It was horrible!  Those were the days when I’d come home from school and my older sister would be there at my house waiting for me. As, soon as I’d see her, I’d instantaneously feel my throat close up and my eyes start to tear.  I just knew her presence meant that my mom was in the hospital, again and that I’d be staying at her house.  Even now, it’s hard for me to describe the feelings I had when she was gone.  Neglectful, or not, she was my beloved mommy and  she was my world.  I would be completely devastated each and every time her health drove her to hospitalization and I had to stay at my sisters house. I would sit for hours, just inside the threshold of her house, with my heavy, winter coat on.  I would refuse to take it off cause then that would mean that I was comfortable with staying there, and I absolutely was NOT.  The feelings were mutual, I was nothing more than an inconvenience to my sister and her new family. That was evident in the was I was treated.  I was a little girl, whose mom was in the hospital.  Did I get hugged, held and reassured?  Um, no.  In fact, I was teased and ridiculed.  My feelings were never validated, just brushed off like I was a bratty, crybaby.   And so I hoped, in my little head, that if I kept my coat on, I’d be going home soon.  My coat and my belongings became my only link to my home and my mom, so I guarded them, viciously.  All I wanted was my mommy, and I  cried for her relentlessly.  wp-image-772939006

So, in considering all this trauma, and very deep seeded emotional damage, I’ve come to the conclusion that I am incapable of deep, bonded, long lasting relationships.  I am forever in self-protect mode. My heart was broken long before I even understood what love was.  I was broken, emotionally, by those who were supposed to love me the most.  What exactly does that do to a person you ask?  Well, it breeds a fear of intimacy, it causes an intense craving for attention and validation, it harbors insecurity, and it destroys any feeling of self worth.  How could my only mother intentionally sleep through my entire childhood, and be so oblivious to the pain she was causing her little girl?  Why didn’t anyone see what was going on? Why wasn’t I worth more? Why is that the hand life dealt me? Why didn’t you save me? Why didn’t you love me enough?

I could ask questions all day and it doesn’t matter now, the damage has been done.  I’m just sorry to all the wonderful people in my life who have tried to love me, yet got nothing in return.  My heart is buried somewhere inside me, I don’t wear it on my sleeve.  It was broken a long, long time ago and I don’t know if it will ever be whole again. Those who reared me, failed me.  I cry for the little girl inside me, and I protect her with all that I am because no one else did.

I never learned how to love, how to show love.  A hug, to you,  may feel like a warm, loving, reassuring embrace.  To me, a hug is an uncomfortable invasion of personal space.  Sad, isn’t it?  This comes from an adult that wasn’t loved on or hugged as a child. This also comes from an adult that is tired of all the failed relationships in her life and tired of not feeling worthy.  I have learned to live in self-protect mode, and that is a very shallow existence. It’s a very lonely place to be.    Thanks for your interest. God Bless!

Missing You On Mother’s Day

I miss going to the greenhouse to pick out the perfect hanging basket of pink petunias, they were her favorite. I miss picking out a new set of plaid dishtowels, in just the right shade of country-blue to match her kitchen. I miss standing in the greeting card aisle, tearing up, as I read each and every heart-felt sediment. 

    Every now and again, I look at your pictures and wonder how I could ever cherish a piece paper more. At times, I’ll hear your voice, and it  sounds sweet like a song.  And, I’ll always know that no one could ever love me more than you did,  Mom.  Our relationship wasn’t perfect, and many questions will, forever, go unanswered, but, I know you were exactly who I needed you to be. Being a mother; it’s a labor of love that requires a special kind of person.  You were my person!

Thank you for being my Mom! 

Happy Mother’s Day in Heaven!  

 

The Only One

I haven’t written for a while. I’ve actually had a lot going on in my life to blog about, I just haven’t had the motivation.  And what is my motivation now, you wonder… I wonder too. Is it my ever-present need for validation of my feelings, or is it just my need to connect with others out there, like me, who have ADHD and feel like they are THE ONLY ONE..  The Only One to have feelings of emptiness that nothing can fill, the need to escape reality by any means necessary because that’s what you were taught.  The Only One who feels that they are totally unworthy of the love that those around them give.  The Only One who feels that a bad relationship is better than no relationship at all; or that ,once again, reality is just too painful too bear.  The Only One who decides what is right and what is wrong in their life.  The Only One who is left in the dark much of the time; The Only One who thinks everything is okay amidst a world of chaos.  And The Only One who feels these feelings is me; because here, in my world, I AM THE ONLY ONE.

My Closest ‘Enemies’?

Finally getting an accurate diagnosis of adult add at 27 years old was a welcomed blessing; I finally had a name for my seemingly impossible persona. To say my life was a little crazy would be an understatement; I bounced around like a high-flying superball. I am a literal poster-child for this disorder. After my diagnosis, I tried to learn everything I could about ADD, so I could have a better understanding of how I ticked.
Revealing my diagnosis to those closest to me was actually pretty devastating. No one was surprised, they reacted as if they had known all along; I honestly felt like the but of some kind of cruel joke. If my issues were so obvious, than why didn’t someone, at some point in my life, suggest that I seek a diagnosis of some sort! It seems they all just sat back and watched me make mistake after mistake, bad decision after bad decision; and come completely unravelled by the age of  27. I had been drowning in my own self-created ocean of disappointment and failure, totally aware, yet to weak to pull myself ashore. Why wasn’t I thrown a lifeline? Was my life not worth saving; or was it just easier for people to watch me struggle.
I still struggle today with that realization. Where do I find self-worth when those I loved found me so unworthy.
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Home Alone

I’m sharing this story because I have recently become aware that it could have something to do with my diagnosis.  Whether or not it does, it is still a childhood trauma that I ‘survived’, but not without some lasting effects.

Being home alone at night is one thing when you’re an adult, try it when you’re 4!  It was a very cold , dark night back in the winter of 1979.  I forget the exact date, sometime in January, I think.  My mother had tucked me into bed and kissed me goodnight.  A few hours later, about 2-3a.m., I awoke, as usual.  This was a common thing for me, I found myself at the foot of my parents bed quite often.  But this night was different; my parents weren’t in their bed!  I immediately began screaming for my mom. “Mommy, mommy!!”  No answer.  I was scared out of my wits! I ran around the pitch black house screaming and turning on every lamp and light switch that I could reach. I went to my older brother Greg’s bedroom door and banged and banged on it; no answer!  I remember being terrified beyond belief; I was just 4 years old and home alone in the middle of the night!

There was about 6 inches of snow on the ground and more lightly falling, it was probably 20-30 degrees outside, typical of a Michigan winters’ night.  I had rationalized in my young mind that my mom must have gone to Hamady’s (out local grocery store).  My mother practically lived there.  She ran to Hamady’s on a daily basis for bread or milk, and I always went with her.  And at that moment I decided that’s where I was going to look for her!  I frantically ran to my bedroom to get dressed.  I found a pair of cut-off jean shorts and a t-shirt, that I put on backwards.  I tried to be brave as I prepared to head out into the cold to walk the 2 mile walk to the grocery store;  all the while crying hysterically.

Just as I opened the big, heavy front door, I saw headlights coming up the driveway.  My mother flew out of the car and cradled me in her arms.  My dad, on the other hand, wanted to kill my brother!  He had been given strict orders not to shut his bedroom door just in case I woke up.  My mother had gone to the airport to pick my father up from a late night business flight.  I sobbed for most of the rest of that night and I don’t think I’ve ever been the same since.

After that incident, I became very attached to my mother; So much so that I was kicked out of preschool, because I cried for her the whole time.  When I started kindergarten, I became attached to a playmate of mine, and even though she was in kindergarten also, she was my ‘surrogate’ mom.  I used to tell my mom that when she died I’d bury her under the house so I could sleep next to her.  Needless to say, my attachment was slightly unhealthy.  I wonder if I have suffered permanent damage from that experience.  When you read this, it may not seem like a big trauma, but to a 4year old little girl, being home alone was a nightmare!