I have a backlog. A cave full of wishes. Unexpressed wishes for Mother’s Day. And Father’s Day too, TBH.

I remember emotionally boycotting Mother’s Day for as long as I can remember. From the time I was young. Young meaning a time when my years on this earth were expressed in single digits. I know I am not alone.

I give my single digit self a huge loving hug because I was too young to understand. Too young to realize what was behind the bitter rejection of my gift and my fearful expression of love and appreciation. I did what…

Photo by Andre Hunter on Unsplash

Donald Trump’s antics don’t bother me. Like. At all. That doesn’t imply approval of any sort. It just means that, to me, antics and drama and yelling and bullying are completely normal.

Finding a way to live “normally” amongst chaos and lies definitely comes in handy. It is one of the many survival skills that served me well growing up. It still does. It’s a product of being born to a toxic mother married to a broken, enabling father. Enabling grandparents, aunts, uncles, the like. Surrounded by multiple generations of enablers in a constant and enduring state of denial. So…

Photo credit — Elizabeth Drake

It is? Oh.

I didn’t speak at the funerals of either of my parents. What does that say about me? It doesn’t say anything about me.

Those that examine the behavior of others rather than examining their own behavior will interpret it anyway. I suppose to make themselves feel better about themselves. While tearing someone else down in their minds. In some cases using their “out loud” voices. You know what I mean if you were raised by those that whispered about others (i.e. me) while in the next room. Guess what? I can hear you.

Even as a child…

I have always been unsure of what to call them. The people I have been told I come from. Are they “family?” Are they “my family?” What does that even really mean? Are there not some very, very minimum standards for genetically similar people to be considered a “family?” For the purpose of this piece I define family to include not only spouses and/or children, but also grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, siblings. Pets are not included. If only humans communicated as clearly as animals do, I, for one, would not have these questions!

Sure — I know all about finding…

Elizabeth Rustemeyer Drake

I usually hate bios. But just my bios. Seeker, empath, INFP, HSP, scapegoat, survivor.

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