Gee Holly, I thought you were always like Shoe-shine-boy (Underdog), “humble and lovable”.
It seems that “bitch” you speak of was nothing more than survival instincts. I think the “bitch” mentality in most cases is more a defensive…act tough, you can’t hurt me kind of thing…and it’s really not. The mean stuff hurt like hell, bitchiness or not. You were always truly the person you are, it just needed an escape. There was never a reason to show it, you were on the defensive. Your roommate opened Pandora’s box for you, and it was for the best,it was a Godsend.
It’s amazing that so many people have the type of experiences in Catholic Schools that you did. By that I mean the “Christian beliefs and actions” that seem to be anything but from so many. I went through it in grammar school too. You are so fortunate to be wise enough to have learned the lessons you have and more importantly put them into practice, working hard to make sure your relationship with your daughter is a strong one. Hopefully your knowledge and wisdom passes on to her as she grows and at the right time she realizes it.
Aw, Ken. Thank you. When I look back, I do feel I was pretty mean. But I can definitely see I was a product of my environment. I do feel what is underneath it all is pretty loving. I feel deeply. I want to love hard. Others in my life have made it difficult for me to do this.
But I've learned from it. I hope. And I also hope I am teaching my daughter well. I really am trying to break the cycle that I think so many generations went through before me. I am awake and trying.
I really appreciate your support and friendships here. You and so many others have given me confidence and strength and you don't know how much I really appreciate it.
I was a mean girl at times and the table flipped and I bullied. I didn't want it to be me. My poor teachers in High School. My son is polar opposite and teachers adore him. I tell myself I did something right
Survival instinct. I agree with Ken. I had a similar experience with religion and bullying in my elementary school years. Abuse and there's no where to go and CPTSD.
Phenomenal. Your words speak to my heart, sing is more like it, pluck at my heartstrings, like a lullaby soothing a new born baby to sleep. I love the images your words form. My eyes were racing to read the next sentences and then go back and reread slowly again. Thank you for sharing your heart.
It seems that we have had similar experiences! I have been hard and I have been soft. As I grow older, I choose softness, love, and compassion. That choice brings me a much deeper sense of joy and contentment. Ultimately, choosing flexibility and adaptability through love is to live in harmony with the universe. We cannot control our reality. We can only control how we react to that reality. Glad you have come to a similar conclusion despite your circumstances!
Thanks, Xavier. My drinking was never too terrible but it was definitely enough to numb the many uncomfortable emotions I never faced growing up. I am facing them now!
So appreciate all your compliments…and you reading and commenting. ❤️
“For the first time, I understood platonic love. She looked deep inside me, found the threads of my tattered warrior’s shroud, and pulled them, one at a time, until it was completely unraveled, to reveal my essence beneath. She loved me right back to the person I was meant to be.”
Beautifully written! And I agree: there is strength in softness and vulnerability.
I found this piece deeply inspiring. Its exploration of how vulnerability and kindness cultivate true strength is incredible. "It is gentleness, kindness, and softness that has ultimately served me" captures the beauty of gracefully evolving through life’s challenges. Such a good read.
I like this a lot Holly. Not the same, but similar. Hardened by others and life, was not a good place to be. You found the secret, so keep doing you. 👌
Good one, Holly! I was a precocious kid too but I had it all crushed and stomped out of me. Like you, I did much better with my kids. Far from perfect, but much better..
This is beautifully written my friend. I went through a stage in high school that I am not proud of. All my life I had been the “new girl “ in the mix. We moved at least every 3 years, if not every 6 months because of my father’s military career. Kids are cruel. I never felt like I fit in. My refuge was reading, art, writing. I lived in a dysfunctional family, ( though I didn’t realize it at the time). When I was 12, my mom had a nervous breakdown, my dad was on another 18 month tour of duty on an aircraft carrier somewhere in the Pacific, it was during the Vietnam War. No one knew that my mom had descended into hell mentally, until the money in her purse was gone, the money I had been using to buy food to feed me and my 4 siblings. Until the money ran out, I was THE MOM. Each morning I woke up to find my mother sitting in front of the tv, chain smoking, dumping those ashes into the ashtray on her little tv tray. I was the one who got my siblings up and dressed, fed my baby sister, changed her diaper, and placed her back into the playpen. My mother never moved, looked at us. Lucky for us, because of my dad’s military service, we qualified for free lunches, so we got at least one decent meal a day, and the money in my mother’s purse lasted longer. I did not have the opportunity to partake of it though at that time, because someone had to check on my baby sister. I would return home at lunch time to find my baby sister in a soggy, dirty diaper, in the playpen. It was obvious she had been crying. My mother was still in the chair, the ashtray overflowing with ashes.The cigarettes! I remember cartons upon cartons in her bedroom closet. We ate a lot of grape jelly, chicken noodle soup, baloney sandwiches and cereal during those 3 months. One day the money ran out, and I had no choice to but to go to a neighbor whom I barely knew to ask for help. The police were called, my aunt who lived an hour away, arrived to take over, and the military proceeded to send my dad home. My mom was away for about 3 months afterwards, she was never the same after that. My dad actually decided to leave the military after that, and start a business with some friends. We moved one last time, and then I began high school in yet another new place. I fell in with the one crowd that was “accepting” of all, the “burnouts”. My grades plummeted( I had always been a straight A student, I just didn’t care anymore). Until my Sophomore year when I was fortunate to have a teacher who cared enough to tell me that I needed to straighten out my act. That is a story for another day. I call it my “mean girl” phase, because I became a mean girl. There finally came a point where I realized that we all can make a choice about the direction our lives take. We either let the past suck us into a black hole, or we find a way to rise above it, and make our lives better. My childhood years are really not a place I care to revisit on any sort of regular basis. My life today is vastly different, and even with an incurable blood cancer, the blessings so abundant, so why would I?🥰
Wow. What a story Deb. I’m sorry you went through all of that. It is true we are the sum total of our experiences but it sounds like you took what you needed from them and rose above. Bravo.
Gee Holly, I thought you were always like Shoe-shine-boy (Underdog), “humble and lovable”.
It seems that “bitch” you speak of was nothing more than survival instincts. I think the “bitch” mentality in most cases is more a defensive…act tough, you can’t hurt me kind of thing…and it’s really not. The mean stuff hurt like hell, bitchiness or not. You were always truly the person you are, it just needed an escape. There was never a reason to show it, you were on the defensive. Your roommate opened Pandora’s box for you, and it was for the best,it was a Godsend.
It’s amazing that so many people have the type of experiences in Catholic Schools that you did. By that I mean the “Christian beliefs and actions” that seem to be anything but from so many. I went through it in grammar school too. You are so fortunate to be wise enough to have learned the lessons you have and more importantly put them into practice, working hard to make sure your relationship with your daughter is a strong one. Hopefully your knowledge and wisdom passes on to her as she grows and at the right time she realizes it.
Aw, Ken. Thank you. When I look back, I do feel I was pretty mean. But I can definitely see I was a product of my environment. I do feel what is underneath it all is pretty loving. I feel deeply. I want to love hard. Others in my life have made it difficult for me to do this.
But I've learned from it. I hope. And I also hope I am teaching my daughter well. I really am trying to break the cycle that I think so many generations went through before me. I am awake and trying.
I really appreciate your support and friendships here. You and so many others have given me confidence and strength and you don't know how much I really appreciate it.
I was a mean girl at times and the table flipped and I bullied. I didn't want it to be me. My poor teachers in High School. My son is polar opposite and teachers adore him. I tell myself I did something right
YES. That is all that matters. You are giving your son all the peace you never had.
Thanks, Holly.
Survival instinct. I agree with Ken. I had a similar experience with religion and bullying in my elementary school years. Abuse and there's no where to go and CPTSD.
Just recently I’ve read about CPTSD and definitely think I have it.
Thanks for reading and always for your support, Jane. I appreciate you.
I didn't connect it for myself until a few years ago with the help of a therapist
I know some of your hard, and a lot of your soft, Holly. It’s a privilege to know you more deeply through your writing. Keep it up…it’s so good.
You’ve also help soften me. Thank you. ❤️ Love you.
I can relate to a lot of this Holly. Thank you for sharing your experiences. I find your writing very inspirational 😊
Thanks, as always, Darcy. ❤️❤️
Phenomenal. Your words speak to my heart, sing is more like it, pluck at my heartstrings, like a lullaby soothing a new born baby to sleep. I love the images your words form. My eyes were racing to read the next sentences and then go back and reread slowly again. Thank you for sharing your heart.
Such an amazing comment, thank you so much.
I appreciate it. And you.
It seems that we have had similar experiences! I have been hard and I have been soft. As I grow older, I choose softness, love, and compassion. That choice brings me a much deeper sense of joy and contentment. Ultimately, choosing flexibility and adaptability through love is to live in harmony with the universe. We cannot control our reality. We can only control how we react to that reality. Glad you have come to a similar conclusion despite your circumstances!
It sounds like we are kindred spirits. Great minds and all… 😜
I love the way you discussed what we can control. That is probably something I should have included here….
Very much appreciate you reading and commenting. ❤️
First, no wonder you took to drinking…I’m sorry for the pain you endured and glad you’re sober today
Second, wasn’t Catholic school creepy? I can laugh about it now!
Third, had you submitted to Adobe or Getty stock photography 10 years ago, you’d be rich, rich, rich!
I love how you are aware of all of your behavioral eXpressions and used the word vitriolic!
Thanks, Xavier. My drinking was never too terrible but it was definitely enough to numb the many uncomfortable emotions I never faced growing up. I am facing them now!
So appreciate all your compliments…and you reading and commenting. ❤️
I wish everyone had a friend like this!
“For the first time, I understood platonic love. She looked deep inside me, found the threads of my tattered warrior’s shroud, and pulled them, one at a time, until it was completely unraveled, to reveal my essence beneath. She loved me right back to the person I was meant to be.”
Beautifully written! And I agree: there is strength in softness and vulnerability.
Thanks, Hanna. My friend is one of the best things that has ever happened to me. Over 20 years later and she and I are still very close.
Thank you, for reading, commenting, and always being here. ❤️❤️
I found this piece deeply inspiring. Its exploration of how vulnerability and kindness cultivate true strength is incredible. "It is gentleness, kindness, and softness that has ultimately served me" captures the beauty of gracefully evolving through life’s challenges. Such a good read.
Jon, you made me tear up a little. Thank you. You have no idea how your comment moved me. ❤️❤️
Thanks Holly. It really is such a great piece. Thank you for sharing.
I’m impressed by how you overcame so much to be where you are now. You’re very inspiring.
Thanks very much for saying so, John. Very much appreciate you reading and commeting.
Love this Holly. I deeply understand this. My own story has some similarities so I can really relate. You are so brave to write this ❤️
Aw, thanks Peter. I think a lot of people can relate. I’m glad I could write about how I’ve become a little softer as I’ve aged….
It is really such a privilege for others to read my words. Appreciate you so much, Peter. ❤️
Right back at you Holly ❤️
What a beautiful post, Holly. Thank you for sharing! 🤍
Thank you for reading, commenting, sharing! ❤️
You’re so welcome! ❤️
Really good stuff.
This is beautiful, Holly. Thank you for writing this, and thank you for sharing it.
Thank you so much for reading, and for your friendship Mary.
And you also inspire me as a writer and an artist
I feel the same, beautiful. Thank you for being wonderful
🤍🤍
I like this a lot Holly. Not the same, but similar. Hardened by others and life, was not a good place to be. You found the secret, so keep doing you. 👌
I do think the softer me is the better feeler…better writer….better mother. So I will keep at it. Thanks very much for reading, Ron.
You’re welcome - my pleasure.
We’re all mixed bags. Works in progress. I guess balance is the key. As Brandi Carlisle sings, “Let it bend before it breaks”.
thanks as always for reading Christopher. Love Brandi Carlisle.
Good one, Holly! I was a precocious kid too but I had it all crushed and stomped out of me. Like you, I did much better with my kids. Far from perfect, but much better..
Again, you sound like a great dad, Steve. I’m glad I’ve gotten softer as I’ve aged. It has been better for everyone in my life.
This is beautifully written my friend. I went through a stage in high school that I am not proud of. All my life I had been the “new girl “ in the mix. We moved at least every 3 years, if not every 6 months because of my father’s military career. Kids are cruel. I never felt like I fit in. My refuge was reading, art, writing. I lived in a dysfunctional family, ( though I didn’t realize it at the time). When I was 12, my mom had a nervous breakdown, my dad was on another 18 month tour of duty on an aircraft carrier somewhere in the Pacific, it was during the Vietnam War. No one knew that my mom had descended into hell mentally, until the money in her purse was gone, the money I had been using to buy food to feed me and my 4 siblings. Until the money ran out, I was THE MOM. Each morning I woke up to find my mother sitting in front of the tv, chain smoking, dumping those ashes into the ashtray on her little tv tray. I was the one who got my siblings up and dressed, fed my baby sister, changed her diaper, and placed her back into the playpen. My mother never moved, looked at us. Lucky for us, because of my dad’s military service, we qualified for free lunches, so we got at least one decent meal a day, and the money in my mother’s purse lasted longer. I did not have the opportunity to partake of it though at that time, because someone had to check on my baby sister. I would return home at lunch time to find my baby sister in a soggy, dirty diaper, in the playpen. It was obvious she had been crying. My mother was still in the chair, the ashtray overflowing with ashes.The cigarettes! I remember cartons upon cartons in her bedroom closet. We ate a lot of grape jelly, chicken noodle soup, baloney sandwiches and cereal during those 3 months. One day the money ran out, and I had no choice to but to go to a neighbor whom I barely knew to ask for help. The police were called, my aunt who lived an hour away, arrived to take over, and the military proceeded to send my dad home. My mom was away for about 3 months afterwards, she was never the same after that. My dad actually decided to leave the military after that, and start a business with some friends. We moved one last time, and then I began high school in yet another new place. I fell in with the one crowd that was “accepting” of all, the “burnouts”. My grades plummeted( I had always been a straight A student, I just didn’t care anymore). Until my Sophomore year when I was fortunate to have a teacher who cared enough to tell me that I needed to straighten out my act. That is a story for another day. I call it my “mean girl” phase, because I became a mean girl. There finally came a point where I realized that we all can make a choice about the direction our lives take. We either let the past suck us into a black hole, or we find a way to rise above it, and make our lives better. My childhood years are really not a place I care to revisit on any sort of regular basis. My life today is vastly different, and even with an incurable blood cancer, the blessings so abundant, so why would I?🥰
Wow. What a story Deb. I’m sorry you went through all of that. It is true we are the sum total of our experiences but it sounds like you took what you needed from them and rose above. Bravo.
And thanks for reading :)
😘❤️