Middle Ground

Recently I have been thinking about how I feel a little lost as to where to go with my Blog. Was I going to go back and walk through the things that have come up for me from my childhood or was I going to use my career as a platform to correlate my experiences into ways to help others? Was simply walking through my life and my mother’s death in writing enough, had the blog served its purpose? What I have come to is that this was always about being transparent, about not being ashamed,  about wanting to help people see that everyone has something they struggle with. It’s about being human and real in a time when everything in the world is so focused on how we look from the outside. For me it has become about my journey to be ok with who I am and all the things that brought me to this place in my life.

The truth is being transparent does not some how end at a certain chapter, it does not stop existing simply because we have shared the most vulnerable parts of ourselves. I feel that sharing is truly the jumping off point to being transparent and open. Helping you to understand why you are who you are and then not being afraid to be yourself. I have started to see a counselor, I meet with her weekly and in the beginning thought it would be the best way to deal with my grief. Losing my mother caused me to look at so much more of my life than the actual loss. The truth is these weekly sessions have become about me, and how I face the world and interact with people. They have become about me being able to overcome and become who I truly am.

Now I know this sounds very “mid-life crisis” like, but what my counselor asked of me this week has put it into perspective. We talked a lot about my wounded child vs my adaptive child, and where the real me falls in between the two. SO yes in some ways it is a crisis of sorts, but in a positive love yourself sort of way not a get a spray tan and a sports car sort of way. She explained my wounded child as the little girl who felt and saw everything, sad and afraid. Struggling with needing so much from a mother who couldn’t give it. She went on to describe your adaptive child as the part of yourself that learns to survive, for me that was about being quiet, accommodating, and not having any expectations of my own, only focusing and catering to the needs and expectations of others. My assignment for the week is to write a letter to the adaptive child part of myself and tell her I don’t need her anymore…..

Dear Adaptive Child,

I am not sure where to begin. The reality is you are a part of me, in some ways you are a part of the most endearing parts of me and in some very hard to face ways you are the reason for my inadequacies. The things that you have helped me to face and endure are unexplainable. You’ve protected me and faced demons no one knew existed for me. Without the shelter of your lessons, the most wounded and difficult parts of who I am would have been too much to handle, as a child and even still as an adult.

I am grateful for the walk we have taken together, the truth is I could not have made it through without you. You gave me the ability to be agreeable, accepting, and even invisible at times. Because of you I never rocked the boat, I never felt anger, and loved unconditionally. As a child those were all things I needed from you. As an adult I will hold onto many of the things you have taught me. Being kind and accepting, and loving are things you’ve given me that I am proud of , proud to have as part of me. On the other end though is a girl who never expected anything, and never spoke up about her own needs. This is where I have to let you go. Not out of a place of sadness or regret, but out of a place of acceptance, something I would know nothing of without you. This time I will lend the acceptance to my true self and stop hiding behind the shield you’ve become.

As I have walked through the last almost 2 years, I know that you stood by me as my mother died, gave me strength and helped me to hold onto the most precious parts of who she was. Gave me strength when I wanted to crumble, when I felt like nothing more than that wounded child you were protecting. Yet I have also realized that was our final walk together. I see now that its ok to take care of myself and have a voice. That I was letting myself down with my fear of not doing everything for someone else. With this realization I say thank you, thank you for braving the darkness with me. But I got this.  Just as I have had to realize I cannot save anyone else, I don’t need to be saved by you any longer. It’s just time to say goodbye.

With love and gratitude,




One thought on “Middle Ground

  1. It’s so good to reach out for outside help. I’m so proud of you. I love you and want you to know that in you, I see love, giving, helpfulness and kindness. Thank you for sharing this journey with those of us who care about you.


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