Toxic people, situations, or environments.

poison-bottle-medicine-old-159296.jpegAbout the time I start to wonder if I should be judged harshly for my decision to extricate myself from the family of origin and its tentacles that extended, a health care or specialist of some kind affirms my decision and I feel less like a monster and more like a human being who simply had to put an end to the toxicity. Today was such a day.

I don’t remember thinking about it really, but when my doctor spoke with me and asked such probing questions as to make it impossible not to answer her, I realized that the family of origin had crossed my mind recently. Maybe because I am home alone and it’s triggered a few things. Like…having no locked doors when I was younger wherein my step-father made his nightly visits, or the OCDing the doors and windows like after I was raped. I feel decidedly unsafe. To counter this I sleep with a baseball bat next to the bed, music on my kindle and a lit candle. Intellectually I know there is nothing to worry about. There is a gun in the house, a machete near by, my bat and of course there is the pitbull/terrier mix standing watch. But that feeling is very present, almost as though sitting in the room watching me.

Feeling safe is not common for me, though I think to some degree lately I have felt safer because, at the moment, that feeling has left me. And maybe that is why I was thinking about the decision about the toxic people and circumstances in my life. I am feeling vulnerable and judged as I am reminded of years past and questioning everything including if the doors are locked properly because I am home alone. OCD is no comfort here, I keep asking myself did you check it twice, three times would have been better. Countered of course with the judgement that if I wasn’t such a mental case, once would be enough.

It is not kind in my head. And it’s cruel to call myself a ‘mental case.’ But that is how I feel about myself right now. Though I am far kinder to others who suffer the same anxiety disorder. If only I was that kind to myself, perhaps I would feel less judged.

Judged by who you might ask? Judged by a chorus of naysayers, haters, users and manipulators, all united to question my every decision, especially the ones I made for ME and my kids to escape the abuse and dysfunction.

It helped to talk about it today, though I had no idea I needed to. I was reminded as I shared that I gave my decision a lot of thought before I made it. I am at peace about it 90% of the time. The other 10% is mostly when I am feeling especially vulnerable and harshly judged (even if from within).

I’m fortunate that I opted not to drink the KoolAid (poison) of my youth.

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