Heart on my sleeve


When I miscarried my first pregnancy of twins at 11 weeks and 5 days, after telling EVERYONE about the pregnancy, naming them (we had names we would use regardless of the gender-Trysten and Chance), and seeing a sonogram of them and their heartbeats; I lost it. It was one of the hardest things I ever had to go through. It hit my husband hard as well. But he was only as bad as I was for about a month and a half. And in to the second month he was asking why I wasn’t getting any better, that he was just as affected as I was but he was starting to get through it, and I should be too. But I am a teacher. Every day when I go to work, I also have to be an actress. I have to put on a happy face for my students, even when I am in the most pain I have EVER experienced in my entire life. He is an electrician. If he wants to be in a grumpy mood or solemn and avoid people most of the day, he can do that. That allows people to get through their pain a little faster when they don’t have to put it off and pretend like it’s not there for half of their day, every day. And I am still a teacher. I have to do this with every single bit of pain I deal with. It has to be pushed off until I am alone. And then I wallow. The nighttime is when my brain goes to work and begins to heal itself, because the daytime hours are off limits.


Due to my dysfunctional childhood, I am programmed inadequately to handle any sort of conflict. While my parents never gave me a hard time about crying, and allowed it without any shame or criticism, they also did alot to bring forth tears on a daily basis. There was constant yelling in my house; whether it was at me for something trivial that I had done wrong that was blown incredibly out of proportion or things that were completely out of line for them to even be upset about in the first place; or whether they were yelling at each other, rather my father yelling at and belittling my mother. Then when I got out in to the real world, I found out it wasn’t socially acceptable to cry every day. This really affected alot of my romantic relationships. My husband doesn’t take well to my crying. Whenever we are embroiled in conflict, his knee jerk reaction is anger and mine is crying. We don’t get much accomplished. In the long run we do after things are thought over, but the conflicts become so traumatic to me due to my Complex PTSD from my childhood, that I begun to back off expressing myself altogether several years ago. I used to use writing letters as my way of communicating and expressing what I needed to say, but that seems to bother everyone as well, particularly my husband. He also doesn’t like me talking or venting to friends about our personal lives because his ex wife used to badmouth him all the time to all of her friends. So I have had no outlet to get my thoughts out of the jail cell of my mind, I have not been able to write my feelings in letters and I have just acquiesced to keeping the peace by keeping the warring all in my head. And it’s honestly killing me and killing my relationships with everyone. I can’t keep lumping everything on myself and taking it all and never expressing f my hurt or pain. I need to feel secure enough in myself that when I do speak up, to know that I am not always the person who is wrong or the person who loses every battle as my parents taught me to believe. I am someone who wears my heart on my sleeve and it’s imploding me from the inside out to be keeping everything inside. I am trying to tackle one small battle at a time to practice using my voice again within all of my relationships that need some sort of repair or boundaries and I am speaking my mind more and taking down some of the filters. For all of the filters that my child with Asperger’s Autism doesn’t have, I have them all for her, far too many of them. I sensor myself more that probably 95% of the people on this planet. And that is not healthy for my own well being and learning to love myself is going to break down some barriers that are unfortunately going to expose some people to some things they might not want to hear. But my head and heart just can’t carry this anymore. It’s time for others to share in the experiences that some of their words and actions are triggering in me. And if they can’t handle it and can’t rise to meet me and work on things the way I constantly try to work on myself day in and day out, then changes will have to come about in other ways so that I can do what I need to take care of myself, for the first time.


Author: Alice Funk Farie

Ecclectic Eccentric, Adoptee, Mom of a child with Aspergers Autism, Complex-PTSD from childhood trauma, Daughter of parents with Narcissistic Personality Disorder and Dependant Personality Disorder, Anxiety and Depression Warrior, Empath, Indigo Child, Musician, Educator, Wife of a Sociopathic Addict, Stepmom, Martial Artist, Artist, Philosophizer, Quote Collector, Survivor

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